Disclaimer – Not mine. Humbug.
A/N – Written for Ani Mama, who requested Vincent Valentine fic. Please bear in mind that I've never written Vincent before, so this is a bit of a learning experience for me. Also, though it should be obvious, this veers from canon before canon even starts.
Three Parts Dead
© Scribbler, May 2008.
Those who fear life are already three parts dead. -- Bertrand Russell
Vincent was aware of heartbeats. He wasn't sure how he recognised the noise as heartbeats, but he knew. He also knew there were two of them, fluttery like birds or small frightened animals. For a moment he considered whether the rats had returned – they cleared out when they realised there was nothing to eat here – but dismissed that when something tapped the lid of his coffin.
He'd been fading in and out of reality for a while, no real conception of time or how much had passed since the last time he surfaced. Now, however, with actual movement his senses came online like a sprawling computer system finally finding its back-up generator. He smelled dust and tasted the acrid tang of a large abandoned space – memory and loneliness and sorrow left to moulder and be forgotten. Things that couldn't possibly register with the five senses suddenly did. The confusion from his sensory feedback was intense but short-lived.
The coffin lid shifted. Vincent tensed. It took a while, but eventually it moved back enough for light to penetrate. He kept his eyes closed, not needing to rely on his sight and not wanting to give away the advantage of surprise. If Hojo or his minions had indeed returned then Vincent wanted the man close enough for him to tear his throat out without interference. Blood flowing quicker than it had in years, he listened, he scented, and he felt the soft touch of exhaled air from somewhere above him.
"It's a … dead body."
"Wow…"
"It's a dead body!"
"So this mansion really was abandoned for a reason! Aren't you glad you came up here with me?"
"He's so pale … I think I'm gonna throw up-"
Vincent didn't frown, but he thought about frowning and that was enough. Facial expressions lingered in the back of his mind, dismissed as useless and time-consuming. The two voices were high-pitched and obviously those of children. That was … unexpected. He couldn't hear anybody else in the room and the sense that he'd been asleep longer than he realised struck him like a bullet between the ribs. He opened his eyes.
He could've done without the screaming.
Two children shot away from the sides of his coffin. They both bolted for the door but Vincent needed answers and wasn't above grabbing one to prevent it leaving. His reflexes weren't impaired for being dormant so long, neither had his iron grip been damaged. He kept hold of the struggling boy easily, pinching a nerve that ceased the thrashing as though switching off all muscles at the mains. The boy's eyes were wide with fear but Vincent spared him only a glance, more focussed on the girl by the stairs. They were alone in here but that didn't mean there weren't adults upstairs and a small person wailing into their midst would be problematic.
"Y-You put him down," she said bravely – uselessly brave, since he was at least three times her height and outweighed her even without his gauntlet and the other accoutrements Hojo had left him with. "Or you'll be sorry."
For some reason that struck Vincent as ironic: he was already far sorrier than any man should have to be, but he tucked the feeling under his cloak and revived his vocal chords. "Why are you here?"
"We were just exploring. Cloud said … I just … It was my idea but nobody else would come with me. We weren't doing any harm. Please, let him go. We'll leave, we promise!" Her eyes were pleading. She couldn't be more than six or seven years old. Her thick hair, high ponytail and pained expression struck a note deep within Vincent that he preferred not to contemplate.
The boy's eyes were equally pleading. Vincent met them briefly but didn't release him. "You say this mansion has been abandoned?"
"Yes," the girl replied.
"For how long?"
"For as long as I can remember. Nobody comes up here. It was stupid of us to come. Please, just let Cloud go-"
"I won't harm either of you if you cooperate."
"What?"
Vincent sucked in a breath. The air outside his coffin was still stale, but with these two in the room he tasted something like possibility. It had been a long time since he sensed that, but desire to exact revenge on Hojo still burned inside him, nestled against all the dark, oily, vile things clasping his vital organs. And then there was the pang the girl's appearance provoked. Selecting an appropriate response to the conflicting emotions was an interesting conundrum.
He focussed once more on the two children. The girl still hadn't run away, exhibiting a loyalty and courage unusual in one so young. The boy had transferred his gaze to her and Vincent saw the message clearly written there: Go, leave me, save yourself.
Vincent breathed out and unclenched his hold. The boy dropped bonelessly to the floor. The girl rushed to him and they both stared up at him, transfixed as he stepped out of the coffin and back into the world of the living.
"My name is Vincent Valentine, and I am not dead."
Fin.