-1Chapter IX - Catharsis/Called in Sick

Lean against the night and laugh as I try to scale the walls.

Vincent sat on the bed, eyeing Sephiroth up and down. His verbal assailant looked despaired and hurt and finally finished, sitting on the very edge of his bed, knees apart, arms resting on his thighs, head hung low. The sheets on the bed seemed to curl around the edges of his form, as though empathizing but afraid, much the way Vincent was feeling. Sephiroth's hair hung down, a grey privacy curtain, hiding his true face from the world, and the world from his true face.

Valentine, however, was not so easy in his somehow. He clung hopelessly to the corner of his bed, sucking the life out of his cigarette. The smoke burned his lungs deliciously, pain soothing his mind, eyes watering from both carcinogens and fear. Sephiroth's words had nested themselves into the holes in Vincent's heart, the freshened wounds bleeding. He couldn't resist his own thoughts: am I really just a psychopath? Do I really not love her? God, how could I not love her?

Ignored futility fills the air.

Sephiroth looked up and caught Vincent's wandering gaze. For a moment, he saw again that familiarity, but it was gone as he exhaled a thick, blue could of smoke.

"And you live this way?" Vincent asked him, "accepting that you do not love and cannot be loved?" His fleshy hand continued to shake, as though gripped by some poltergeist or palsy, and he flicked an ash out the window into the rain.

Sephiroth's expression was an honest by weak smile. "Who would love me." The sadness of it was that it was not seeking an answer.

Vincent, embarrassed, could not respond. He turned back to the window and the night and watched the rain as it smashed itself blissfully against the cold, wet cobbles. Taking another long drag off of his cigarette, he closed his eyes and said, "What were you doing out there tonight?" and motioned toward the window.

Sephiroth rose, paced across the hardwood floor, and searched for an answer, though one seemed to elude him. No, that wasn't true; he had an answer. It was just…as he tried to put it into words, it seemed to make less and less sense. He had been out there, in the dark, in the rain, because he had wanted to lose civilization and find humanity. Sephiroth hadn't wanted to be alone, but being in and amongst people only made him feel more so. It seemed as though he was stuck in some sort of paradox with no way to escape.

Of course, he couldn't actually bring himself to say any of that, so he only shrugged and this enigmatic response only prompted another question from Valentine: "Why did you approach me?" The last time he and Sephiroth had stood face-to-face, they had been on opposite sides of a battlefield which was a great rift between one man and the rest of the world. Sephiroth didn't seemed to carry any of that weight now, except for that of the emotional strain with which he was now burdened. But he saw in Vincent at least someone he knew, perhaps even with home he share common ground.

"I thought…I think I can trust you," he answered. Another conundrum, but Sephiroth figured that Vincent had already exacted his revenge fire years ago, and had had plenty of a chance to lash out tonight. In his presence, Sephiroth was almost able to relax. He figured, too, that if he was going to die this evening, at least at the hands of this man he would know why.

Vincent lay his head on the pane and crushed out his cigarette between his thumb and index finger, before flicking it into the storm.

"You trust me."

"More so than a stranger."

"You trust and enemy more than a stranger?" He picked up his head from the sill.

"At least I know where you stand. Besides, we share something in common," Sephiroth said, and he meant it quite innocently, for he was still a simple creature. Vincent, however, was not, and hadn't been for sometime. Sephiroth's answer elicited at first something of a weak chuckle from Valentine, which grew then into a swollen, painful laugh.

They did share something in common, thought Vincent. They shared the cells of an alien woman whom they both would have been better off without. However, JENOVA was the source of Sephiroth's tragedy; it was the aftermath of Vincent's.

When his laughter died down, Vincent invited Sephiroth to sit on the bed beside him. He obliged, but slowly.

"Do you…" Vincent paused and swallowed. "Do you ever wish it would just stop?"

"Wish what would stop?" Sephiroth delved.

"This. All of this…I don't know."

"I think that's the problem. I think it already has," he ventured. "My mundane life never existed, you understand," he made a fragile sort of smile, more like a pursing of the lips, and it faded. "Everything has stopped. And this is just some…some eternal nothingness."

"Some eternal nothingness…" Vincent felt the phrase in his mouth. "That's exactly what this is, isn't it." It was no question, but a cosmic recognition of truth.

A shared, understanding silence passed between them.

You're only there to watch me fall.

"Vincent," Sephiroth then murmured boldly, "you were there, weren't you? When it all happened? When I was…made? What happened, Vincent? What went wrong?"

"I…" Valentine began slowly, trying to word himself gently, "I think the horror of it all is, nothing went wrong."

…o…

Let's admire the pattern forming.

The change in Lucrecia was not immediate, now was it drastic. In fact, the next few days passed without incident; however, this was probably due to the fact that Vincent would not allow her to return to the mansion, or even to check in with Gast when her pager when off, which I did, once every half an hour or so, at least up to the point where Vincent was forced to remove it from her person and wail it up against the wall, where indeterminate pieces broke off and flew into corners of the room, never to be found again. Oh, of course he could have taken the batteries out, and he knew this, but at the time, throwing the device, no matter how innocent it was in the scheme of things, seemed to be more appropriate, especially after Lucrecia had divulged to Vincent just what Hojo had tried, and how she had seemed to be trapped within her own body, her own mind. Throwing the pager was the Turk's display of how much he detested Tavarius Hojo and all that was connected with him, even it Gast was the one trying to check up on his employee-turned-daughter-turned-experiment.

Murderous filigree.

The beeper left a small knick in the wall of Lucrecia's apartment, but Vincent didn't "give a shit, God damn it! - they can go to Hell for all I care!", and he then rushed to her side, to protect her, though she was already safe.

He stayed with her in the apartment, staring at eggshell walls and beige tile floors. He waiter for her to come out of the shell he has built around herself since she had cried to Vincent of Hojo's wrongs when she flung herself at his feet. On the morning of the fourth day, Gast has decided that Lucrecia's absence had gone much too far, and he knocked loudly on the apartment door, demanding answers. Vincent answered him.

"She's not going back there, Sir. I can't allow it," Vincent insisted, and the professor was taken aback.

"Valentine, I'm going to have to ask you to stand down -"

"No. I refuse. Now until you get rid of -"

Lucrecia stepped forward from her bedroom, hair brushed and tied up, make-up perfect, clean lab coat covering a white dress shirt and black slacks. "Sorry, Professor, I'm very sorry. I just…I just needed a few days." She took a deep breath and mustered up a smile. "I'm ready, now. Let's go."

Vincent was open-mouthed and wide-eyed, not to mention speechless. The transformation in her was amazing, but Vincent couldn't help but distrust it.

"Lucrecia, I don't think -"

"It's alright, Vincent; I'm ready now." Lucrecia was confident and proud and Vincent was powerless to stop her. This was what he'd fallen in love with, wasn't it? And indeed, how could he not? And her she was, walking out the door.

"Don't worry. I'll be back soon. I promise." Lucrecia smiled a lovely, wonderful, inspiring smile and her eyes seemed to light up, just for a moment. In that delicate instant, Valentine had an epiphany. Lucrecia's work was more to her than just another job - Lucrecia thought her work was about life, and the preservation and improvement of it. She wasn't playing God, no, she was playing mother, and now she finally had a chance to do physically what she had been doing mentally all her life. She was living her dream.

So where did he fit into her equation?

I'm caught in the twisting of the vine.

Lucrecia winked at him and the both she and Gast were gone.

…o…

"How's your back, Lucy?" Gast asked, once the had returned to the basement. He was flipping through the records that Hojo was supposed to have made, and found them blank. Wonderful.

"My back?" Lucrecia was shifting around some old journals from shelf to shelf, to create some semblance of order. She slid one out of the bookcase and about six more toppled over, sending up a cloud of dust. Instinctively, she coughed, but stopped abruptly when she realized it hadn't bothered her at all.

"Yes, your back. The one with the spine that was fairly literally stabbed with a three-inch-long straw?" Gast put down his pen and looked up anxiously.

Lucrecia set down a stack of unbound paper. "It's okay," she replied, trying to repress Hojo's attack on her, "I'm okay. I mean, it didn't hurt too much, I think thanks to her." She meant JENOVA and Jeremiah knew. Lucrecia sucked on her bottom lip, then went back to work. Gast did not resume writing, only watched her for a spell, then inquired, "Have you thought about the baby?"

Lucrecia grinned, "Every night. What about it?"

"…Where is it going to come from?"

She thought hard on this for a moment, clearly not understanding the professor's meaning. Then, "Oh! I see. Yes. Don't worry, Jerry. I think I've got that sorted out."

Gast adjusted his spectacles and rested his elbows on the desk, atop many layers of paper. "It's that Turk, isn't it. Valentine. Lucy -"

"Jerry -"

"Hojo told me he saw you with him, in a bar. I though it was benign. I mean, who am I to tell you who you can and can't associate with?"

"Who are you to tell me who to sleep with!"

"You're sleeping with him?"

"NO!" Lucrecia was fuming. "What else did Hojo tell you, Jerry? Did he tell you what happened after you left on Wednesday? Did he?"

"No, Lucrecia. I haven't seen him since then, which is a huge pain in the ass for me, because he hasn't kept any of the records from then on either. What happened? Where has he been?"

"What am I, his keeper?" she threw up her hands, still frustrated and offended. Gast knew this.

"Look, child. I didn't mean it like that. It's just… I'm sure Valentine is a good man. But…he's a Turk," he rose from his chair and approached her. "You know what he does for a living."

"Because we're paying him to! It's his job! God, you sound like Hojo! Anyway, you're the one who said this wasn't about love!"

"But Lucy, I'm not stupid." He put a calm hand on her trembling arm. "You are in love, or you wouldn't be defending him this way. I'm just watching out for you."

Lucrecia wanted none of it. "You're so blind! Both of you!" She threw off his hand and stormed out. She needed some air, and some time alone.

Standing behind Shin-Ra mansion, the cool fall air swept around her like an embrace. Winter was on the wind, she could smell it, but the afternoon sun was warm and welcoming, and a few last desperate wildflowers swayed in a gentle breeze. Stripping off her lab coat, despite the chill in the air, Lucrecia felt good, just to be outdoors, and to be alone. She had been couped up to long, and this was nice. This was quiet, and good. She greeted the sun with an upturned face, closed her eyes, and leaned against the back of the building.

For a minute, she lay docile, listening to the birds and the wind, and the sound of her own breathing. And for a minute, she was calm. Her mind was clear. But her back carried a sort of tingling, and she reached around to touch it. Her eyes opened into the sun, blinding her, but that wasn't what mattered at the moment. Lucrecia was afraid - her back was moving against her will, and she was afraid that she was going to seize, or already was in some petit way. Was her body trying to reject the foreign cells? Was JENOVA trying to reject her body?

"Lucrecia?"

She jumped and turned at the sound of her name. Hojo.

"What do you want?" she hissed, then clapped a hand to her mouth, amazed at the sound that had just come from her. She was still very angry and afraid of Tavarius, and she did not want to be alone with him.

"Lucrecia," he repeated and stepped toward her, though she stepped back. He, however, seemed surprisingly sober in mind and body. "I saw Gast just now."

Vincent, the first thought in Lucrecia's mind.

"He…uh…says you're okay."

"No thanks to you," she spouted.

"Look. That's what I wanted to talk to you about. What happened…in the lab. I didn't mean it. I never meant to hurt you. But…for a minute, it almost seemed like…like you wouldn't stop me. Hell, it seemed like you wanted it." Lucrecia made to interrupt him, but he stopped her. "No, I know you didn't. And I'm sorry. I don't know how I can convey that to you. I mean…" and he stopped, and lowered his head.

Lucrecia watched him fro a moment. Did I really want it? she thought. Why did it take me so long to fight him off? Did I…I lead him on! Dear God, he's just a man. She touched her back again. There was no pain. Hojo had done his job, and well. If he had wanted to hurt her, he very well could have.

"Look, Tavarius, I -"

"No, Lucrecia, it's okay. I've asked Gast to move me to another project." She could tell he was forlorn, and she was stupefied. Hojo? Another project? But he loved JENOVA! He loved her as though she were really a person. He knew everything about her, and he was irreplaceable.

"Hojo. Professor. Sir. You can't do that. We need you on this. What happened, happened. No one…was hurt. Don't leave, sir." Lucrecia took a small step forward.

Tavarius looked up. Though he stood several inches above Lucrecia, he had always seemed small. Maybe it was his waif-like build, or the glasses and hair that seemed to dwarf him, but now he seemed almost diminished by his apology. To Lucrecia he said, "Ms. Winthrop, you're too good. Too good." His smile was awkward as he turned away from her, forgiven.

It was awkward because it was false.

Hojo congratulated himself on his acting, some of the best he had ever done, patting himself on the back mentally as he walked away. Yes. He would have her.

I can't help my laughter as she cries.

My soul brings tears to angelic eyes.