Summary: Vincent's body begins to reject the protomateria that is keeping Chaos in check; to combat this, he has to accept help from Shinra, Inc., who have developed an experimental drug that might help keep Chaos at bay…or, it could eventually make things worse.
Disclaimer: The usual...I don't own Final Fantasy, Square Enix does. This fic is written for fun, not profit. Any song lyrics quoted within are attributed to the appropriate artist.
Rated M just in case.
This world is spinning around me
The whole world keeps
spinning around me
All life is future to past
Every breath leaves me one less to my last
"Pull Me Under" – Dream Theater
Vincent sighed and gritted his teeth as he pressed the elevator button, bracing himself. He was at Shinra Headquarters, and his final destination was Tseng's office. It was a recurring, monthly appointment that Vincent had with Tseng - to receive injections of an experimental drug designed to keep his body from rejecting the protomateria that resided within, to keep Chaos from taking over.
And it just so happened, that Tseng was one of the few people – if not the only one - within the walls of Shinra Headquarters that Vincent felt he could trust enough to give him the injections. Too many years of being Hojo's guinea pig had conditioned Vincent to being somewhat gun-shy about anything remotely resembling a medical exam or doctor's appointment.
Even so, even with Tseng giving Vincent the needed injections, he dreaded them. For one thing, they were often painful; Vincent's muscles would twitch and spasm violently as the injected drug coursed through his veins. It was not quite a seizure; more of a constriction of every muscle group in his body. The spasms could last anywhere from thirty minutes to an hour, sometimes as long as two hours. And Tseng, bless him, would stay by Vincent's side the entire time.
Often, Vincent would wonder why Tseng spent all this time with him; surely he had other things to do, as Commander of the Turks? Vincent even asked him this once; the question was met with a disdainful snort from Tseng.
"It's fine, Vincent," Tseng had told the former Turk. "I've left Reno in charge."
Vincent expressed surprise – and, a bit of concern at this – as he asked Tseng, "Are you certain that's a good idea?" And Tseng had chuckled with great amusement. "Vincent, Reno is my second," he explained, smiling. "I agree, his methods may be a bit…unorthodox, at times. But he does get the job done."
"Hmm," Vincent muttered, digesting this. He said nothing further on the subject that day, but still wondered about Tseng and his motives. Even though Vincent felt Tseng was trustworthy, he was still suspicious of anyone who showed an ounce of kindness toward him. Vincent hated feeling this way, so paranoid and wary of everyone.
I wasn't always this way, he thought. Lucrecia…I was a different man, back then. How much I've changed. I'm not even…quite human, anymore. What am I, indeed...
As the elevator came to a stop, the doors opened, and Vincent broke out of his reverie. He walked quietly down the corridor, heading to Tseng's office. Reaching the door, Vincent knocked on it briefly, then entered without waiting for any acknowledgement. Tseng was bent over his desk, poring over a spreadsheet on his laptop. "Have a seat," he murmured, without looking up. A few mouse clicks, and Tseng shut down the laptop, closing it with a snap.
"Sorry about that," Tseng said apologetically. "Finishing up some reports."
"That was my least favorite part of the job," Vincent commented. "Although...it's been many years since I've been a Turk, hasn't it?"
"I suppose it has," Tseng replied, studying Vincent curiously. He still had to remind himself, from time to time, that Vincent was nearly thirty years older than he appeared.
"Well," Vincent muttered, as he removed his cloak, then his shirt, throwing both garments on a nearby chair. "Let's get this over with, shall we?" He stood before Tseng, wearing only a thin cotton shirt.
"Of course," Tseng murmured. He opened a drawer in his desk and withdrew a plastic tray containing a row of small glass vials that contained some sort of serum. Tseng then reached further into the drawer, and brought out a small bin of hypodermic needles. He inhaled, bracing himself; of course, the injections were far more painful for Vincent than they were for Tseng; but oddly, he felt a bit of emotional pain himself, for the torture he was about to inflict upon the ex-Turk.
"Would you like to have a seat?" Tseng asked quietly, as he readied the injection. Vincent set his jaw and curled his hand into a fist. "No," he said coldly. "I'll stand."
"As you wish," Tseng replied. It was the same drill every month, he thought. Vincent would stubbornly refuse Tseng's offer of a chair – even though he knew he'd more than likely need it just minutes after the injected serum coursed through his bloodstream.
Tseng stood next to Vincent, who had already removed his gauntlet, and rolled up his sleeve. The arm that remained hidden most of the time under Vincent's metal gauntlet was mangled and scarred, the flesh a mottled purple color. Tseng had visibly flinched the first time he'd seen Vincent's arm exposed like that - and Vincent had caught the brief flicker of horror in the Turk's eyes. It was nothing new to Vincent. I'm a monster, inside and out, he told himself disdainfully. No doubt that is all Tseng can see, as well.
Lost in his thoughts, Vincent hissed at the unexpected sensation of something cold and wet on his upper arm; Tseng was dabbing at it with an antiseptic pad, preparing the injection site. His eyes met Tseng's, and he lowered them, almost in acquiesence, as if granting Tseng permission. Somehow, the Turk Commander correctly interpreted Vincent's gaze. "This is the week we're increasing your dosage, Vincent," Tseng said softly, as the hypodermic pierced the skin, and Tseng pressed down on the plunger. "So please...let me know if you have any side effects."
Vincent gritted his teeth as he felt the serum coursing through his veins; it burned, as it always did initially. Usually the initial burn faded after a few brief and unpleasant minutes, and was followed by the muscle spasms and constriction, which by now Vincent had become accustomed to. This time, however...that was not happening. The burning sensation was not fading, it actually seemed to be getting worse, increasing in its intensity. Vincent gripped the back of the chair that Tseng had offered to him just minutes before, swaying as he tried to steady himself to keep from falling. He broke out into a cold sweat, feeling droplets of sweat drip down the back of his neck, underneath his thick veil of hair. Still, Vincent stubbornly refused to sit.
"Vincent...are you all right? You don't look well all of a suddden," Tseng remarked, his voice full of concern. That's an understatement, the Turk thought grimly, as he studied Vincent's face, which was now a rictus of pain. "Come, please...have a seat," he urged Vincent, tucking a hand behind his elbow as he attempted to guide Vincent around to sit in the chair.
"I said NO, Tseng!" Vincent snarled, shoving the Turk's hand off of his arm. "Leave me be." An agonizing cry ripped forth as Vincent's legs buckled; his entire body was spasming and constricting with pain. "Fuck! Make it...stop," he said pleadingly, not addressing anyone in particular as he fell to his knees on the floor. Yet, Tseng was the only one present in the room, of course, and he was at Vincent's side instantly.
"Shh, I'm here, Vincent," Tseng whispered soothingly, reacting with uncharacteristic tenderness. "I'm here for you." He draped his arm around the fallen man's shoulders, attempting to comfort him, and to move him into a sitting position. Tseng was finally able to force Vincent up into a half-kneeling position, unconsciously rubbing his hand up and down his back.
"Why are you touching me like that?" Vincent asked in a low growl. Tseng blanched, and quickly removed his hand.
"I'm...sorry. I hadn't even realized I was doing it," Tseng replied. "I apologize, if I upset you..."
"You didn't," Vincent replied in a pained grunt, forcing himself to stand. He did so shakily, grabbing on to Tseng for support. He nodded his head at Tseng and said, "I'll sit now."
"Good," Tseng replied, the corners of his mouth threatening to turn up in a smile. He led Vincent over to the small couch tucked into the corner of his office, and helped Vincent to sit. "Can I get you anything...water, perhaps?" Tseng asked, as Vincent stared, dazedly, at a small spot on the wall facing him.
"No," Vincent replied flatly, not even glancing at Tseng. "Water will not help matters. Every inch of my body feels as if it's on fire," he hissed through clenched teeth.
"I am sorry, Vincent," Tseng murmured apologetically. "Perhaps we should discontinue the drug protocol. I'll inform the lab that you've had a reaction - "
"Should have known better than to trust Shinra again," Vincent spat. "What in the hell was I thinking?"
"You were thinking that this would provide you with some hope," Tseng replied, taking a seat next to Vincent. "Hope that you could regain control of Chaos."
"Chaos," Vincent echoed bitterly. He sighed, and sat back on the couch, sinking back into the cushioning. "Chaos has been a part of me for so long...one would think that I could learn to live with his...outbursts, so to speak."
"Damn Hojo for what he did to you," Tseng said darkly, setting his jaw. "It pains me to see you suffer like this, Vincent."
The former Turk looked up at Tseng in surprise. "And why is that?" he asked, curious. "Why do you care, Tseng?" Nobody's truly cared for me, not since...her. And look at how that ended.
"I...don't know," Tseng replied honestly, frowning in puzzlement. Why did he care about Vincent's well-being? Was it just because the man had once been a Turk? Perhaps it was just that, Tseng reasoned. The Turk brotherhood...that's all it is.
Or was there more to it than that? It was a very good question. Lost in his thoughts for but a moment, Tseng jerked his head up in surprise as he felt something touching his knee; glancing down, he spied the fingers of Vincent's mangled hand brushing gently against him. "What - what are you doing, Vincent?" Tseng stammered nervously. It wasn't like the Turk Commander to feel so unnerved like this; normally, he was the picture of cool confidence. Not so whenever he was around Vincent however.
"I don't know what I'm doing," Vincent murmured, locking eyes with Tseng. "Don't you...feel something, though?" Chaos roared from deep within the recesses of Vincent's brain. Take him, Chaos urged. You know you want him, so take him. Then...kill him, after you're done.
"No," Vincent replied hoarsely, addressing Chaos. "I won't do that. I can't do that." I...care for him too, I suppose, he thought, somewhat bemused by the sudden realization.
"Who...who are you talking to, Vincent?" Tseng asked quietly, already knowing the answer. It can only be Chaos. Hojo's damnable demon.
"Tseng, you should go now," Vincent warned. Before it's too late. He shifted uncomfortably on the couch, as he felt a flush creep to his cheeks, and felt the blood roaring in his ears again. The burning sensation in his veins remained, but had lessened somewhat since Chaos had awoken within him. Stay down, Vincent told Chaos. I'm warning you. I will not allow you to use me, to make me hurt Tseng. It will not happen. Vincent felt Chaos moving within him. He was laughing at him, the bastard.
So you say, Host, Chaos told Vincent tauntingly. So you say.
Tseng shook his head, frowning. "I'm not leaving you, Vincent," he insisted. "Not while you're in pain like this. Isn't there anything I can get you? Perhaps some opiates to help relieve the pain - "
"I don't want more drugs," Vincent interrupted, turning to face Tseng. He reached his mangled hand up behind Tseng's head, locating the tie that held his hair back in a ponytail, and slid it off, tossing it onto the floor. Tseng's hair fell down around his shoulders in a cascade of black silk.
"This is what I want," Vincent whispered, as he cupped Tseng's face with his hands and kissed him, fervently. The Turk was wide-eyed with surprise at first, but then responded in kind, wrapping his arms around Vincent's shoulders as he returned the kiss. Vincent groaned as he leaned into Tseng, who was pulling him down as he lay on the couch.
"Yes," Tseng managed to get out, gasping for breath. "Oh gods, yes...I want this too, Vincent. But...not here," he added, smiling slyly.
Vincent quirked an eyebrow and smirked. He checked himself; the pain from the injection was starting to fade, but it was being quickly replaced by another, much more pleasant pain in his groin. "If not here, then...where?" he asked.
"My place," Tseng replied quickly. He kissed Vincent again as he sat up, then cleared his throat. "If...you're okay, that is," he added, concerned. "How are you really feeling, Vincent? And please...be honest."
"I'm fine," Vincent replied. "Much better." He stood up and replaced his gauntlet, then turned back to Tseng with a smile. "Let's go."
A/N: I've been wanting to write a fic featuring these two for quite some time, so here it is. This might end up being a few chapters in length. Please read and review! :)