Fairy Tales
Chapter Two: Waking
Up; Moving On
No, Vincent Valentine wouldn't die till he was good and ready. That's just how he was and the proof was here in front of Veld. Of course, Veld had died to get her, hadn't he?
The gun reversed itself in Vincent's grip and he lobbed it to Veld. At the same moment he lunged at the heartless, it was hard to not pay attention to him. The claw was… fitting for him and it made Vincent look like the monster he always moved as. He'd always been fast, but this was something surreal.
What had happened, what did Lucrecia do to him? Veld paused a moment, wondering where he remembered that name from again.
Gritting his teeth Veld made himself snap out of it. He fired the weapon at the heartless, the kickback stunning him, the shot went wild. He glanced in Vincent's direction.
Shoot the target already.
I'm trying.
No, you aren't.
Veld grit his teeth against yelling at Vincent. 'Not everyone is a born killer'.
The dark man wasn't paying attention to Veld, however. Instead the gold boot flew in a high arch before coming down on a heartless, exploding those orbs about again. Two of them jumped up at Vincent, disappearing into the floor as the one on the beech had. A dark puddle on the floor slid under and he sunk into the floor. The heartless formed a black ball, trying to consume him. They welled up, as if there was pressure below…and then he heard the chainsaw.
In an almost surgically smooth sweep, a grey skinned monster slung his chainsaw, littering green orbs about the floor. It looked around at the heartless and then attacked, in a quick, lumbering step. Veld backed up to the stairs eyes wide.
"He he he… POP! Gonna make you POP!" The monster's laugh wasn't right. There was something very off about it.
The remaining heartless tried to run, but the monster laughed at their attempts to work the door. It was stalking forward on those uneven footsteps with the chainsaw dragging on the floor. "Don't wanna pop!? Pop pop pop!" That wasn't Vincent's voice at all. That… how was that sound even in existence?
The heartless lay in little green orbs then, scattering the floor. The monster jerked its head as though shocked and looked up at Veld. "You should not be out alone." The chainsaw stopped then and the monster's head tilted. "It is good to see you."
"What the hell are you?" Veld hadn't cursed a good one in nearly ten years. He felt like a teenager, gaping at that... thing. And just what was the bastard presuming to sound PLEASED to see him?
It… chuckled. "Never did grow up, did you? Though I suppose, Veld, this is a bit of a shock to you? I apologize." It twitched again, and its eyes rolled. "He he he he… and you bleeed, I haven't had something bleeeeed for so-" The monster fell to its knees then, hands clutching its head.
He opened his mouth to protest the 'growing up' comment, but he realized protesting would sound childish. And why the hell did he care? And the thought occurred to him. "So you really are a fucking monster now. Fitting."
Vincent appeared, bubbling from the grey flesh. He panted a few times, face not showing pain if he felt any. "Was—" He stood slowly, "wasn't I always?" This was the voice of Vincent Valentine, the monster before him was one that he knew.
"I'm not here for you." He made sure to specify that, right away, so there was no confusion. "I heard that... a friend of mine came looking for you. They called you a vampire."
Red eyes narrowed at him, reading him. Black hair fell into his face, but Vincent ignored it. He simply stared without blinking, waiting.
"What?" He didn't like the staring. He could never tell what the bastard was thinking when he did that.
Vincent started up the stairs then; he reached down and removed the gun from Veld's hands on the way. The cape draped over Veld's shoulder for a second, sliding off of him as the ex-Turk walked up the steps.
"I'm looking for Ifalna. You probably don't remember her, because you didn't pay attention to much of, well, anything, but she's a friend of mine." If he kept walking, he wouldn't turn back or answer or acknowledge and gods, it pissed him off when he did that. But Veld was over fifty when he died, not fifteen, and why did he feel fifteen again?
Vincent paused for a moment, but did not turn around. "I remember her." He started walking again.
"Wait! Have you seen her? Gods, I just got here and she signed in yesterday, and I just wanted to see her." The brief thought about the vampire killing her that the others had commented on went through his head... and if Vincent didn't answer he was going to assume it was true. Then he would probably have to kill him- check that, try to kill him.
At the top of the stairs, Vincent turned and looked down at Veld. His expression very plainly told Veld that he knew how he felt about Ifalana. It plainly said that he was incapable of hiding anything from Vincent Valentine. "She was here, but left." He motioned to the ocean.
"Left? Where? Did she say anything to you?" He frankly didn't care if Vincent thought him a lovesick puppy or whatever wording he would use. He needed to apologize to Iffy at least. Because, yes, she mattered to him.
But the fallen have a tendency of getting back up again. So they fought.
Vincent didn't say anything, he simply walked slowly down the hallway and into a room.
"Don't you fucking walk away like that! Did she say anything?!" He was following. Veld always followed. And he'd learned a few things in the years that Vincent was dead. He'd become the Chief. And he wanted to tell him that. Except... he couldn't.
He threw the door open, Vincent was seated at a desk, taking the gun apart, three more sat on the polished desktop, and even though he'd only used one, Veld knew he would clean all three. Vincent didn't need to look at the weapons when he cleaned them. Instead he studied Veld. "Are you that lost without her?"
He blinked. Well, he probably wouldn't have to see the bastard ever again, so he'd better be honest. "I am. Yes, this makes me a Turk failure. Now tell me if she talked to you."
One black eyebrow rose from over his red eyes. "Is that a bad thing? Being a failure as a Turk?"
Veld was nearly panicking, and it was really disconcerting how easily he could still unnerve him. But he didn't stutter, didn't ever shake. It had been properly beat out of him like everything else. "Did she, or did she not talk to you? This isn't about me or Turks or anything like that." Only Veld was perpetually defined by that role.
Vincent looked back down at the weapons even opening the bottles of cleaner came easily. "You're so damned in love you can't see straight, kid." He muttered, though it seemed to be half to himself.
"Look who's talking." No, he wasn't going to mention Lucrecia, he wasn't going to rub it in, that was wrong and mean and he didn't hate him enough to do that.
Gods, he wasn't fifteen anymore!
"I always thought you said you were better than I was, kid." Vincent said, back to the gun parts.
"I'm not a monster, if that's what you're saying. Not sure if that's better or worse anymore..."
Always searching for the Light. They both did, only they never noticed, fixated on their own parallel destinies.
Vincent started clicking the gun parts back together, not speaking. The weapons came together with practiced ease, despite the monstrous claw that drew attention. He never blinked. Focused on the task sitting the weapons down one by one.
"If you're not going to help me, I'm just going to leave. I don't have time for this." He was walking, yes, he was the one that was going to walk away this time. He felt uncommonly brash, then. "Oh, and Vincent? I made chief." He felt it proper parting words.
The look that Vincent gave him was as though Veld had told him that black was a dark color or that ice was cold. "She said you'd come here."
He stopped. "She has that... tendency. I don't know how she does it. She just... knows." He took a breath. "Anything else I should know?"
"Ya did good, kid." Vincent got up and walked to the window, he looked down over the water. The heartless were stalking around town; they seemed to give him a wide enough distance.
His eyes went wide for a moment. Did he just...? No. Vincent fucking Valentine didn't compliment people. He broke their arms for not moving quick enough. Or broke their jaws for smarting off. At best, he ignored them. "Um... thank you."
He just stood at the window, watching. His hands behind his back, human wrist held in the metal claw.
If Iffy knew that he was coming, she must also have known that he would follow her. And she would be waiting. "What... what happened?" He shouldn't have asked that question, no, he shouldn't have, gods, the man didn't hate him, why was he still so worried about that?
At first he didn't think that Vincent would answer him. They stood there for what seemed like forever, Veld could feel sweat start to form on the palm of his hands. "She said you'd find her." He glanced over at Veld then, staring before looking back over the water. "She took the boat."
"Thank you, but that wasn't what I was asking about." Stupidly brave. How many times had he been told that?
"I am aware." Vincent responded.
"Never mind. Have fun brooding in here until you die for real this time, jackass."
He could see Vincent smile as though the comment amuse him, but the older man didn't turn and look at him fully or acknowledge out loud that Veld had spoken.
But Veld wasn't done. Because he was almost happy to see his poor excuse for a mentor. "What is your problem? Daddy beat you or something? Well mine did too, and I didn't turn out like you." Stupidly brave.
"Don't you have your eternal love to find or something poetic to that effect?" Vincent asked. Deadpan, no sarcasm, no bitterness, there was nothing in his tone.
"Oh come on, you know it doesn't work like that. People like you and me don't get happy endings. Especially not fucking poetic ones." His apathy was making him angry. It always made him angry.
Vincent's eyes closed. "Missing the obvious, kid."
"Well, I learned from the best." What had happened to him? He would have threatened to break his arm by now and in a couple more words from his mouth, made good on that threat.
Vincent turned and looked at him. "Go find her, already."
Veld didn't think. "Then come with me."
"Go away, kid."
"I'm not like you, I won't walk away and you know it."
"Yes you will. Get out."
"No I won't. You see, I grew up some after you died. Probably not much in your eyes, but then again, you only see what you want to see." He didn't even know why he wanted the man to come with him.
"You're still a punk. Ifalana wants to see you, she loves you. Go away." Deadpan. Still totally deadpan.
"Why are you so insistent that I go away?" He was mildly shocked that Vincent had paid that much attention to Iffy, but then again, it must have been some kind of obvious if even HE noticed. Which made himself, Veld, a rather dense idiot.
"Because I want to go back to sleep, kid." Vincent said matter of factly.
"That's a stupid reason." Veld's tone matched his.
Vincent flopped onto the bed then, not bothering to turn down the covers and closed his eyes.
"She really did break you or something. Gods." Veld didn't feel pity for the man. That was something you reserved for other kinds of people.
"No one fucking broke me, brat. Sod off." Vincent's eyes didn't open but there was an edge to his tone, the closest he ever got to a warning. Vincent Valentine didn't make threats if he said he was going to do something, it would happen.
"No. I died and you're the first person I've seen that I recognize and you're being a brooding prick. You need something to do." He crossed his arms. This was the tone he used with rookies, not mentors. Vincent had slipped.
"I died too, quit fucking whining about it and get out of here before I break your jaw." Vincent snapped.
"There's the Vincent I know. And that threat doesn't scare me anymore. I'll just heal up and come and annoy you again." He always acted as if Veld was some kind of great burden. At least, that was how Veld saw it.
One eye opened and glared at him. It closed then. It was enough of a warning. Vincent said he'd do it, Veld didn't doubt that he would.
Veld sat down at the desk. He'd stay awake for days if he had to. Iffy was waiting for him, and he must just be happy this time around. But he was forever lieutenant to this man, and it was his job to make sure he got his head out of his ass.
"Out." Vincent repeated. He did not need to attach a bodily threat; the tone did it for him.
Veld got up. "I'll be back tomorrow." It was still dark outside; he'd have to run again.
"Take one of the fucking guns, stupid punk." Vincent said, drawing Veld's attention to the obvious. He then fell silent.
"Sleep well." He didn't take the large one. But he wasn't stupid enough to take the small one.
Special thanks again, goes out to my cowriter, Verdot
