Capt'n 's Personal Log

I thought I had a six sense about 'im now.

Sure, he could creep up on me, still startle me... Ye don't become a Turk or Undead Gun Wielding Freak without learnin' how te be stealthy. Still, I thought I could tell... Could at least tell when it weren't him.

Byron made such a fuckin' fool outta me. Used my handicap an' my expectations against me. Know he were just tryin' te pull a prank, but now I just doubt myself even more.

I couldn't tell.

What right have I got te claim 'im?

The last few days 'ave been... interestin'.

We got boarded by 'cutoms', turned out te be a raid. We fended 'em off, or Vincent did mostly, and I got shot in the goddamn fuckin' face, glass in my eyes. My left eye is... royally fucking fucked. My right aint so bad, I'm usin' it again, it's a little blurry, but I'm told it'll pass in a couple days. Wearin' a stupid goddamn eye patch.

Soon as I could get inte the bathroom without Vince, I checked out my reflection. Look like a goddamn pirate. Pretty fuckin' pitiful one at that. Looked under my eyepatch too... Can't see it great, because o' the blurriness, but fuck... it don't look good, and it weren't happy 'bout bein' exposed te the light none either.

Vince is constantly offerin' me support, tryin' te bolster me up. Wills is lookin' inte some eye specialists... Vince is right, it aint in my nature te give up, and I so badly don't wanna let 'em all down... but what fuckin' good is all of it, if I can't get my vision back te fly again?

Feels like everythin' I've set out te do in my life, everythin' I touch or hold dear, just fucking dies.

Godfuckingdamnit. We just got denied at Junon port for Quarantine reasons. I don't wanna have a goddamn fucking holiday there, just wanna give 'em their fuckin' supplies. Jesus.

Now we're gonna have te hit the nearest port an' pay fer couriers or some such bullshit. Wish Cloud would answer his fuckin' phone.

The world's goin' te shit.

We dropped Collen and Caleb off at their new boarding school the other day. It's been tough not havin' 'em around, worst still when we call and all Caleb does is mostly cry and Collen ignores us.

Carbunkle been's pretty torn up, but Vincent especially has been very quiet and withdrawn. I have te admit, 'm worried. Maybe we shoulda waited. It was too soon after Vincent recovered from his mental breakdown, te send the twins off. I don't want 'im relapsin'. 'M gonna talk te him soon, he's gettin' too much inside his own head, starin' outside an' gettin' that look in 'is eye.

... I miss 'em.

Vincent an' I are gonna sit down with the boys teday, have ourselves a chat about schoolin'....


Goddamn, I just know this aint gonna go smoothly.

Byron surprised both me an' Vince with real nice christmas presents. I can't stop lookin' at 'em, can't help thinkin' how damn close we came te losin' the Freak.... not that he's healed yet either. He still doesn't eat as much as I'd like, 'though the new reward-incentive scheme has helped some.

There's some strange rumors floatin' about the world these days. I tried te get in contact with Cloud, but Tifa said he's hard te get a hold of, often doing a Vincentish disappearin' act, or takin' his time with the deliveries I set 'im on.

Don't hardly recognise this world no more.

I think I might o' settled Vince's eatin' problem. Least fer now. Made 'im think o' something he wants, as a reward, if he eats more. His request was a bit of a surprise, but it certainly weren't unwelcome.

He mentioned the boys too, about their schoolin'. So far he's always comforted me that we've been doin' the best we could by them. But now I aint the only damn one thinkin' that maybe the boys'd be better off, learnin' what it's like te be around kids their own age, learnin' things other than oil changes and engine belts and how te stave off air-sickness...

We're back on the Highwind t'morrow. 'M eager te get back in the skies... but a part o' me's a little sad te be leavin' Rocket.

Christmas was good. Peaceful. Warm. Familiar. Surrounded by friends, kids, pets, in the kind o' town ye could raise a family in. A man couldn't really ask fer anythin' better.

Vince's eating habits aint improved much, but he still makes the effort, and I don't wan' te punish that just yet, with threats or stern words. Per'aps I can find a way te bribe 'im...

We'll have te head off soon, get back te work. The bills won't pay 'imselves.

It's almost Christmas.

Most o' the crew 'ave gone back te their families. I've shut up shop fer the seson, but some have opted te stay, either havin' nowhere better te go, or just happier te spend their holidays with their mates.

We're in Rocket, o'course. Shera's puttin' up the boys. I've told her I'll be mostly stayin' onboard, 'cause o' Vince. I didn't go inte details, but she understands, bless her.

Quip and Iever have gone back te their house. Iever's still not copin' so well with open-spaces, but he didn't seem as bad as that first time, after 'is kidnapping, so maybe there's some hope there...

Vincent is... alright. Given everythin' that's happened, and what he's been through, he's doin' alright. He still aint eating as much as I'd like, but he's taking in juice, and I can get 'im te keep soup and sometimes nibbles of solids down. I can't push 'im too much, or he throws it back up again. I'm considering a goddamn drip, if he don't improve any time soon...

Small steps though. Small steps. He came back. That's all that matters.

I'm so goddamn grateful this Christmas.

He's back....

I think, properly back. For good.

We talked a bit, and drank tea..... We'll need to talk more, later, but I think... I think he's on the mend. Finally. Finally...

He's back.

I can't believe I forgot about her letter. I thought it'd only make things worse. Hell, it still could, but it's the only gamble I got left.

I'm bettin' so much on it.

God Bannie, please, please...

Bring 'im back for us.

He seemed te be the most normal he's been in weeks....

.... and it just made it clear how far from normal, from bein' healthy, he really is. I dunno how seriously I can take all that he said. Because if he were speakin' the truth, then all this time... all this time he's wanted to...... And I dunno how right it is te want te stop him....










I need te talk to Iever. Of everyone I know, he's the closest one I can think of, who's been in a similiar place. I need te know....

Why do I keep losing everyone, evenything, that ever matters to me? Why can I never save them? Don't they deserve to be happy?

Don't I?



Byron thought I was gonna kill Vincent, or myself, or both. It's not what I meant to do. I wasn't going to..


.... Was I?


Gods... help me help him, please... please.

Quip and Iever are still around. I reckon Iever feels guilty he weren't able te help. He's keepin' the twins company, and 'as taken Snootch and Tabby off my ruddy 'ands so I don't 'ave te worry so much 'bout them.

Vince is.. the same. I remember when that use te mean somethin' different.

'Pparently I owe Petra a blue dress too.

I dreamt Vincent recovered last night. Dreamt we were fightin', side by side, back te back... We were bein' overrun, we were gonna die, but all I could think of were how goddamn glad I was Vince had at least got better, that we would die honourably, tegether, the way we use te be. We smiled at each other, then the monsters overran us, and I woke up...

I need te stop goin' te sleep.

Iever and Quip came. It got a response outta Vince. Can't say too much more 'an that. I dunno if it's really helped any at all. I feel as though we're back te square fucking one.

Is it cruel, te want him back the way it was? Is it hopeless te think it can be done.....?

I feel like I aint had a cigarette in months. Like every happy memory I've ever experience were just a goddamn dream.

I dunno what te do anymore. I dunno how te handle this.

I'm takin' Vince back te Rocket. Hopin' a visit from Iever might do the trick, or at least, do -somethin'- te help. Anythin's gotta be better than the rut we're in. Just now.... I aint sure it can get much worse than this. I just hope it doesn't end up causin' Iever 'n' Quip more grief. That kid's so delicate himself, I'd hate te see 'im get broke all over again.


I got so many hopes pegged on this encounter... Yet a part o' me is resigned te Iever's presence havin' no effect. And I just... dunno what that means. Dunno what anythin' means anymore.

Here's te hopin'.

Time t'call in some favours. Before Vince ends up losin' another goddamn limb.

Sometimes I wonder if we all just don't have invisible hour glasses, hangin' over our pretty, clueless heads. It aint a matter o' skill, or luck, or self goddamn preservation. All that matters is when that last grain o' sand falls through, and reveals itself as the face of our death.

Who'da thought Vincent's would be his last grain o' sanity?



and something makes me think giving him up is gonna be mine.

Sometimes at night, I dunno anymore if I'm awake, or dreaming I'm awake an' can't sleep.

Who is Vincent Valentine?

What if, all this time, he's been asleep to himself, in a waking coma, what if he's not been himself, and 'himself' is a person none of us really knows?

He didn't know me, or Wills. God, Wills... Only Iever's picture vaguely got te Vince, an maybe that were more luck 'an anythin' else.

Is everything I know about him a fabrication?

God, this is.. fuckin' with my goddamn head.




He still feels good, in my arms. Why can't I keep him, help him?

It's.... fuck, what's the fucking date?

The days are blurrin' tegether. I work, I sleep, I eat. Sometimes I change the order just te amuse myself. Sometimes I drink with Byron.. I forget half the time if he seeks me or, I seek him out. S'pose it don't fucking matter.

But I'm always thinkin' of Him. There's been nothing, no change.

What if... he don't wake up?

I dreamt I was building a coffin last night. Fuck...