Journey
AN: Thanks for the reviews, guys, it's encouraging to hear your comments. Chapters are going slow but steady, hope you enjoy this one, too.
/
Cid's plan was to return to his room, smoke a much craved cigarette, do a couple hundred push-ups and then turn in for the night. However, after two steps away from Vincent's door, another one opened at the end of the hallway. Tifa half- stepped out, clutching the bathrobe she was wearing at the lapels. She spotted the pilot.
"Cid! Can you do me a favor?" She asked, leaning out her door.
"Depends what it is," Cid replied, walking to her with his tray.
Tifa smiled apologetically as she said, "There's a really gross bug in the bathtub. Could you?"
Cid huffed in amusement. "Yer can kick the ass off any monster we fight, but yer don't like bugs?"
"Just the ones with more than four legs."
Sighing, Cid followed her into her room, setting his tray down on a storage chest. Her room, like Vincent's, was identical to his own. He strode straight to the bathroom to find the culprit wriggling about in the tub. It froze when it sensed movement, and Cid had to admit, it was a big little bastard. Maybe he should get Barret…
Like fuck! Not one to lose rep, Cid reached straight in and grabbed it, writhing little legs sticking out between his fingers. Oh shit, it's really wriggling.
Tifa had already opened the window in preparation, and before the unidentifiable insect could confirm his niggling suspicion that it bites, he threw it outside, scratching his itching palms after.
"Thanks, Cid," Tifa said as she closed the window. "I know it's silly, but I've never really liked big bugs. It's the way their legs move. Uugh!" She gave an exaggerated shiver.
"S'long as they don't have teeth, I ain't got a problem with 'em," Cid told her as he re-entered the bedroom, taking up his empty tray again.
Walking him back to the door, Tifa asked curiously, "Were you coming out of Vincent's room a minute ago?"
"Yeah. He wasn't gonna eat so I got his dinner from the maid." Cid grasped the door handle and cracked open the dooor. "He's been lagging again lately, so if he won't sleep, I'll be damned if I won't get him to eat. Fuckin' idiot," he added fondly. He paused as a train of thought crossed through his mind and settled there, unmoving. He closed the door. "The old man said the last Valentine went missin' thirty years ago, but… Vincent must be the last of his family, right? So… he was wrong?"
Tifa's brown eyes looked deeply up into his, a frown pinching her fair skin. "You don't know, do you?" She asked quietly. Cid cocked his head, questioningly. She blinked, looking slightly guilty for perhaps being ignorant to Cid's own ignorance. "I thought maybe you'd have heard it from one of the others by now."
"Heard what?" Cid pressed.
Tifa watched him a second longer before answering. "…Vincent was the one who went missing nearly thirty years ago."
Cid narrowed his eyes, disbelievingly. "But that's impossible. He'd be, like, nearly sixty fuckin'years old."
Tifa's grave expression seemed to confirm him. It sent chills down Cid's spine. "Technically he is. Cid… Hojo locked him in that coffin for almost three decades." She studied the pilot's reaction closely, her own softening, a sad flicker. "That's why he is… how he is."
Cid felt words elude him for a minute. "… How in the hell can any human look like that and be nearly sixty?" He asked, determined to get some answers, hoping this was a poor joke. Then he remembered Cloud's strangely haunting words, "He's not like us any more… Just remember that." …Cid realized just what sort of taboo Hojo had truly committed. "So what, is he immortal?" It seemed such a ridiculous notion. But Tifa was not lying to him, and what she'd told him had, until a few moments ago, been inconceivable. Immortality? It was a fools dream.
"I don't know," Tifa answered, lowering her eyes. "I don't think he knows what was done to him, either. But considering he hasn't changed since… since he was captured, it's a possibility."
Cid knew he shouldn't probe any more, it wasn't his business, he had no right. But he felt the question slip from his lips before he could stop it. "Yer saw what he looked like before it all happened?"
She looked back at him. "There was…" She hesitated. "…a video footage in the Shinra laboratory. We didn't know what it was when we played it," she confessed, as though pleading their innocence. "We hadn't found Vincent, so we watched the recording." She swallowed, her eyes falling from his face as she recalled the video. "I wish we hadn't seen it…" She added in a whisper.
Cid watched her, drawing unwilling images into his mind of the possible contents in the video. He forcefully wiped them away and attempted to say something, but he couldn't string a sentence together. He didn't know what to say. He almost wished he hadn't asked about Vincent. But it did explain a few things; namely Vincent's reaction to new technology, and his overall behavior. Thirty years? Cid couldn't comprehend waking up to a time that left him behind for so long. Vincent was a stranger to their world.
She looked back at him once again. "I tried to forget about it. Whenever I look at him all I can see is a man who's lost everything…. I can't imagine waking up to a completely new world. It's easy to forget what he's been through. He shows nothing of it."
Cid had to agree there. He could sense Tifa's subtle willingness to maintain the topic as he remained silent, absorbing this new information. Women seemed to need to talk about things, almost as though they needed to sort out their own feelings in relation to the subject. Cid understood, but he couldn't really relate.
"I hope this doesn't change your opinion of him," she continued. "You seem to be the only one he actually talks to."
He eyeballed her.
"I noticed," she explained simply, kindly.
Cid let it go. "Why the hell would it change my opinion on him? At least now I know why he's so emotionally-retarded."
"Cid!" Tifa admonished.
Cid shrugged. "Well he is." Flippancy aside, the pilot found himself with some serious new information. He opened the door once again. "Thanks for tellin' me." Cid stepped out into the hallway with his tray balance on a palm.
"It makes you realize, doesn't it?"
Cid turned to Tifa in her doorway, tilting his head in question.
"How strong he is."
Cid stared at her, understanding. He said nothing, but nodded in agreement, and then turned and headed back to his room. The sound of Tifa's door closing met his ears when he reached his own room. He paused at the handle, glancing along the hallway at Vincent's room and wondering if the man had finally decided to sleep. Somehow, Cid knew he hadn't.
/
He woke later than usual that morning. He blamed it on the ridiculously comfortable bed and the lulling properties of the bath solutions of last night… and the strange dream he had involving a pair of red eyes, a dark, fluttering shape and a deep, abysmal coffin that slammed shut on him, locking him in suffocating darkness. It was one of the most disturbing dreams he'd had in a long time.
Cracking his eyes open, he found his room darkened by the drapes shielding the sunlight from the double window doors, and seriously considered turning over and going back to sleep. His stomach growled.
"Fine," he grumbled to it, throwing the covers off him and swinging his legs to the floor. He'd slept naked, unwilling to spoil the sheets with his grimy clothes, so he pulled on his undies, pants and shirt, stepped into his boots and left his room to seek out food. He'd moved two meters down the hallway when Red appeared, spotting him.
"Cid, I came to find you," the hound said, falling in step beside him. "The maid has set a table in the conservatory for us to eat. The rest of us are down there, so I came to show you."
"Good, I'm starvin'," Cid slapped his belly. If he didn't get food soon he would get 'cranky', as Shera used to put it.
At the back of the house a beautiful glass conservatory sat in a small courtyard between the building and the outcrop of rock that rose above them. A small garden had been tended and manicured and in the center sat a small koi pond. Cid wouldn't have expected something so completely different attached to the mansion. He'd put money on it that the 'Master' had nothing to do with this bit.
A large round table sat in the center of the conservatory, around which sat the whole team excluding Vincent, who was a no-show as usual. The maid, Katie, greeted him in passing as she took a rack of toast to the table, which Yuffie promptly savaged. Cid sat down next to Cloud and grabbed what he could while there was still food left.
"The weather's in our favor," Cait remarked conversationally as he watched them all eat from his mog. Cid took note of the bright day and fairly cloudless sky.
"Katie told us the edge of the moor is about a four hour walk from here," Tifa explained as she buttered a slice of bread. "We're about a day's trek from Bone Village. That's where we're heading."
"I wonder if Aerith came through the moors," Yuffie mused. "Maybe we're not far behind her."
"I haven't been able to detect her scent," Red said regretfully.
Cid threw Cloud a searching look. It was under his orders that they were heading to this City of the Ancients, and all caused by a random dream. Still, it was the only thing they had to go on.
"I trust you're enjoying my food," came a scathing tone from the house. The Master approached them, eyeing the table of food with distaste, apparently disapproving the hospitality Avalanche was receiving
"Mm, it's good," Yuffie said earnestly – mockingly.
The old man's nose crinkled. "You'll be leaving soon, I assume." His eyes traveled around them all. "Where's the Valentine?"
"Who knows," Barret shrugged, reaching for the scrambled egg dish.
Looking livid once again, the old man bristled and shook the cane he was holding. "I told you not to go wandering! Another reason to never have guests – they never listen!" He turned to his maid. "Katie, go and see if you can find him. Living up to his heritage, I assume – sticking his nose where it doesn't belong!"
"And Shera calls me cranky," Cid remarked, a mouthful of toast. He swallowed it as the maid left to seek out Vincent. "Whaddaya mean, 'livin' up to his heritage? I thought yer said yer didn't know the Valentines."
The Master turned his cold gray eyes on Cid. "Rumors, gossips, newspaper articles, take your poison. People of my class gained information in all ways. Doesn't mean I had Sunday tea with the blasted people."
"Was Vincent's family a bunch of nosey people?" Yuffie asked. Apparently Cid wasn't the only one whose ear had been perked. The rest of the team was casting curious glances, too.
The man froze, fixing his eyes on the young ninja. "Vincent? It was a Vincent Valentine that went missing thirty years ago. I should know. His father was a very intelligent scientist. His name cropped up all over the place. Secretive and shady work, in my opinion." He made a sour face. Obviously the Master was not a fan.
"Our Vincent was named after that Vincent," Tifa said quickly, throwing a look around the table. "Long lost son." She smiled meekly.
The old man eyed her for a second before sniffing and turning back into the house. "I don't care whose son he is, he shouldn't be wandering in my house!" And with that, he left.
"What a miserable old bastard," Cid said, turning back to his food and snatching the last toast before Yuffie's outstretched fingers could steal it first. She tossed him a glare. He barely saw it, sinking into a forest of new thoughts about their strange, pale gunman. The very air around Vincent was wrapped in mystery, and Cid found himself slowly pulling at the very end of the line.
He drew himself from his thoughts in time to hear Yuffie chuckling, "they won't find him unless he wants to be found."
"I could find him," Red stated, his muzzle upturned into a smile.
"Well, you're the only one with a good sense of smell – hey, what does he smell like? I bet it's old and musty, cobwebby –"
"Yuffie," Cloud warned.
The girl shrugged, stuffing a forkful of scrabbled egg into her mouth. Cid watched her eat, wondering what it was like for the six of them to find that coffin, to open it and reveal a man instead of a skeleton. What must it have been like to wake and find unfamiliar faces looking down at him? How did he wake? Had Hojo drugged him? Cid still had trouble wrapping his mind around the notion of someone sleeping for such a long time. What had he looked like before?
"Red, maybe you should go and get him," Tifa suggested. "I doubt the owner will rest until he's sure Vincent's not really snooping around."
"I doubt that guy rests, period," Barret huffed.
Red nodded and trotted off into the mansion. They knew him well enough to trust he kept out of view of the Master – the sight of Red running around without a chaperone would probably give the old man a heart attack.
"We need to pack up and leave as soon as possible," Cloud announced to them all, on the opposite side of the table from Cid. "We can't afford to waste daylight." He turned his eyes to the spotless windows, his eyes bright but distant. Cid knew he was thinking of Aerith.
Their team finished breakfast shortly after Red and Vincent arrived only minutes later. They were given as much supplies as they could carry in their knapsacks by the kind maid (the Master was thankfully absent, still), and finally, reluctantly, stepped from the front porch back onto the moor. Katie waved them off, still watching as they turned and began their delayed trek to Bone Village. The Master did not make a goodbye appearance, but that was rather a blessing than a disappointment.
Refreshed and fed, the team made their way across the remainder of the moor with renewed energy, tossing opinions and gossip back and forth about the strange mansion they had left, speculating why it was built in the middle of nowhere. Barret stood by his claims that the old man simply hated company, and would have no desire for neighbors or indeed civilization. Cid loudly agreed.
Their path through the rest of the moor passed surprisingly quickly for Cid, and he realized why when someone called out and he was pulled from a deep pool of demanding thoughts – the same thoughts which had been swirling around inside his mind for the whole trek. He really couldn't recall what the past few hours had been like. If anyone had tried to talk to him, they wouldn't have gotten a response.
Wrenching himself from the distracting memories of the conversation he'd had with Tifa last night, Cid looked up, aware he wasn't even sure who in the team had called out. It didn't matter though, because his eyes fell on a welcoming sight: Trees and grass and level landscape – the end of the moor.
"Onward to Bone Village," Cait announced heartily, pointing towards the mountain range in the far distance.
They took a rest at a set of boulders, passing around a small portion of the food they had acquired at the mansion before Cloud ordered them on, clearly desperate to regain the time they lost indulging themselves at the Master's home.
Much of the day was spent hiking over rolling hills and fairly flat terrain with very little stops. There was an apprehensive gleam in Cloud's eye as he marched them on, focus trained on the horizon as though he could spot Aerith wherever she was. Cid knew he was worried for her – they all were – but Cloud had taken her leave personally, and whatever dream he had had back in Gongaga had set him on edge.
At last they came to a thick forest, sheltered between two mountains. Before the line of trees began a small group of buildings sat beside a road that disappeared into the forest. The group approached it, grateful they had made good time. Darkness was only a couple of hours away.
"Hi, folks," called a man in a cap with an iron hammer. He nudged his hat up to gain a better look at them, his appearance oiled and dirty, but friendly and open. "You guys looking for transport to Bone Village?"
"As a matter of fact, we are," Cait said before anyone else could speak. The man's eyebrow shot up.
"How far is it from here by transport?" Cloud asked, his team halting behind him and Cait Sith.
Turning his gaze from the robot, the man rested the hammer on his shoulder. "Three hours. There's no rest stops along the way so I suggest you guys take care of 'business' before you leave." He smiled, and turned to point to a small hanger behind him. "The office is over there."
He left them to it as they headed to the indicated structure – what looked like a small converted aircraft hangar – passing a man and woman who were carrying boxes of papers. The old, creaky-hinged door swung open as Barret pushed through it, and they descended a short set of stone steps into the office.
"Hi," called a middle-aged man from across what now resembled a bunker from the inside. "Can I help you?"
Barret took charge of the arrangements for transportation, which he sorted quickly and easily. They were guided to a yard outside where several vehicles, small and large, were parked about amongst machinery and cargo containers. People milled about, paying them little attention as they were loaded into a dusty green truck. Cid settled into the seat beside Vincent, who had claimed a window position and was staring fixedly out of it. This close proximity was obviously uncomfortable for him. Cid wondered with a smirk what he'd had done if Yuffie had chosen to sit next to him. She'd annoy the shit out of him the entire ride. Maybe he knew some Turk move that would render her unconscious.
Their driver, a man named Tuo, adjusted his cap, told them in a merry voice to buckle up and then slammed his foot on the gas, jerking them all back into their seats. They left the small group of buildings rapidly, merging onto a bumping track.
"Ugh, I don't like rough roads," Yuffie groaned, hand on her stomach, the other clutching the headrest in front to steady herself.
Barret shifted away warily.
The road eventually leveled out and their journey was relatively smooth from then on. Aside from Tifa trying to wheedle some conversation from Cloud, and Cait requesting a chance to read Barret's fortune, the trip was boring, and Cid's mind began to focus on his increasing need for nicotine. He took a deep breath and tried to push it from his thoughts, consequently inhaling a faint scent of leather from his neighbor. Cid rather liked the scent, and right then it smelt pretty good in nicotine's absence. He turned his eyes on Vincent, staring in vague surprise at the man. Vincent's fatigue had apparently caught up to him, and his head was resting against the window, eyes closed. Asleep. Cid suspected the lull of the road had gotten the better of him. He hadn't slept in days, and they had been pushing their bodies since the beginning.
Tifa's voice floated into his head, echoing all the startling facts she had revealed to him last night. This man was practically sixty years old, yet still appeared physically to be in his late twenties. It was just… unbelievable. Things like that were a trait of science fiction and fantasy. That meant Vincent was, well – no other way to put it – a scientific miracle. Cid didn't think that the science community had even found a way to cure wrinkles for the populace, let alone immortality. Sure, SOLDIERs infused with mako lived a longer, easier life, but it was still a proven fact that they aged; evidence of such was noticeable after five to seven years of first dose. But thirty years? Nothing stopped aging for thirty years.
Cid was mildly surprised to find he'd been staring at the gunman again, unbeknownst to his own mind that he was memorizing the very lines that constructed his face. Damnit, why did the word 'beautiful' keep popping into his head? And why the hell did he feel so relieved to see the man getting some damn sleep? He convinced himself he was a good friend, and that thinking another man looked beautiful was alright if it was so obviously true. Yeah…
It was only a few minutes later when Vincent jerked awake. His eyes were wide, but he kept his composure. He seemed momentarily frozen, and Cid suspected he had to remind himself where he was. His eyes closed again and his shoulders sagged slightly in an inaudible sigh. He'd had another nightmare.
A second later his eyes opened and he glanced sideways at Cid. His face was tired, and he looked desperate for a good, long, uninterrupted sleep. Trouble was, he just couldn't get any. It wouldn't be long before he became a liability in battle.
Cid reached for his water canteen. Uncapping it he handed it to Vincent silently. The man hesitated before accepting the bottle, taking slow, deep gulps. The cool water would refresh him a little, at least.
Their drive ended over two hours later, and the truck dropped them off inside the boundary of Bone Village. Rising above the treetops ahead were the tips of some skeletal structures. Cid had been here twice before, and nothing had changed.
"Welcome to Bone Village," came a voice. They turned to find a man approaching. He looked like a gardener, clothed in blues overalls and covered in dust. "Home of nature-lovers. Can I help you guys?"
Assuming he was part of the excavation team, Cloud stepped closer. "Have you heard of the City of the Ancients?"
The man frowned, repeating the name as though it was foreign on his tongue. "Oh – you must mean the Forgotten City."
"I guess…" Cloud said uncertainly. He glanced at Tifa before continuing. "Have you seen a young woman pass through here? Wearing a pink dress?"
The man nodded, his eyes widening a notch. "Yeah, she went into the Sleeping Forest. We warned her, but she went anyway."
Cid remembered rumors of the Sleeping Forest. Apparently no one could pass through the trees without some object, so no one really knows what's past the Forest in the valley of the mountains.
"When?" Cloud questioned.
"Uh, only a few hours ago."
Cid caught Cloud's eye. They were close behind Aerith after all. Finally some good news.
"What's in the Sleeping Forest?" Tifa asked in concern, stepping beside Cloud.
"It's not what's in the Forest," the man replied. "It's the Forest itself. You can't get through it without the Lunar Harp, otherwise you find yourself running around in circles. You simply can't pass through."
"That even true?" Barret asked, skeptically.
The man nodded seriously. "Yes. Many people have tried and failed to get through without the Harp. But luckily we just recently dug up the actual Lunar Harp – it was an exciting discovery." He beamed in achievement. "It'd been lost for a long time. We were going to conduct an experiment, attach a few of our guys to radios and send them in with the Harp, but before we could, this girl – your friend, I assume – demanded it." He looked around them all, his face grave once again. "She said it was a matter of life and death… and I don't think she was joking."
"Where's the Harp now?" Cloud asked, a strain of impatience in his tone.
The man frowned, puzzled. He put a hand on the back of his neck, a gesture of confusion. "That's the strange thing. When your friend used the Harp, she must have left it just inside the Forest, where we found it. But it… it disappeared."
"Stolen?" Barret said.
Shaking his head, the man gestured they walk with him towards the bone structures. "No, it was kept locked in a glass case, no one had time to steal it, we were guarding it. Before we knew it, it just disappeared into thin air."
They followed the man up a neat, narrow stone pathway through a short expanse of trees, emerging into the excavation site Bone Village was famous for. People were crouched about, brushing at the dirt with specialist tools, unearthing new fossils and ancient objects on the various levels of ground.
"There's a theory," said a new voice, "that once used, the Lunar Harp returns to rest in the earth it was created from."
Avalanche turned to find a second man in the same overalls, top half undone and wrapped around his waist. He was wiping his hands on a dirty rag that wasn't much cleaner than himself.
"If that's true, can you guys find it for us?" Yuffie asked from the middle of their group.
The two men glance at each other thoughtfully. "We can," said the first. "But it's just a theory. We're not sure it's fact."
"Only one way to find out," Cid stated, looking meaningfully at them.
Nodding, the second man stuffed the rag in his pocket. "It takes our team and equipment a day to locate and excavate any potential readings."
"We'll wait," Cloud gave a confirmed nod.
The two men gave them directions for the local inn where they could stay, with instructions to return to the site at midday tomorrow. It was another delay, but one they couldn't avoid. They paid the team for their services and then left to find the inn. It was a tall building flanked by large, branchy trees, and boasted a cozy, dark bar a floor down that they all retreated to once they had booked their rooms.
Cid reclined into an old, worn, but comfy leather armchair and took a long, refreshing gulp of his beer. It felt good. His cigarette felt even better though.
"We'll be at least a day behind Aerith," Cloud muttered to no one in particular, his full glass of… what was that? Juice? Pft… his drink was clutched in one hand, probably forgotten as his vacant blue eyes stared into space.
"Can't be helped, man," Barret replied, propped against the side of the faded burgundy leather couch Tifa and Yuffie were sharing. He held a half-finished glass of beer in one hand. They were indulging. Why not?
"What if they don't find the Lunar Harp?" Cait piped up, straddling the couch arm lazily. His mog was sat beside him on the floor.
"We go in anyway," Cloud answered tersely.
"I don't think that would be a good idea," Tifa said quietly, lowering her eyes to the floor pensively.
"If we had air transport we could've gone in from above," Cid remarked offhandedly, swirling the last few mouthfuls of beer in his glass and gazing at it neutrally as his cigarette smoked softly in his other hand.
"Well, we don't have a lot of options, so let's just see what they dig up tomorrow," Barret said firmly.
Tifa, Yuffie, Red and Cait all nodded in agreement. Cid glanced at Cloud. He looked tense and impatient. Turning his gaze to the support column a few feet away, the pilot caught the end motion of Vincent raising his head back up, his eyes bleary and blinking. He was close to collapsing, but he was fighting his exhaustion stubbornly. How long did he think he could continue?
It was already dark outside when they finished their drinks a few minutes later. No one felt like a second beverage, all too preoccupied with their thoughts and tired from their day's journey. Cloud left their group first, with little more than a 'good night'. It was clear he was troubled, who knew what was going on in that spikey head of his?
Cid drained his beer as Tifa and Yuffie unfolded from their couch and left them. He put the glass down and stood. "I'm gonna pop out," he announced simply. Turning his eyes on Vincent, he added as an afterthought, "don't lock me out."
Once outside, he headed towards the line of shops they had passed on their way to the inn, a certain store in mind that he had noticed earlier. He had to pound on the door for a few minutes before anyone answered him, and, ignoring their irritation, told them his purchase was important and left a few gil lighter. He returned to the inn under the light of a waning crescent moon, taking a moment to stop and admire the clear sky above the reaching tree leaves.
"One day," he promised the twinkling stars.
He made it to room #23 a few minutes later after acquiring a cup of boiling water from the reception desk, passing a trio of other guests as they locked their door and left, probably to hit the boozers. Inside his room, Vincent was sat on the bed nearest the window, reassembling his newly cleaned gun.
Cid said nothing as he closed the door, set the steaming cup on the nightstand and took out his earlier purchase: A box. He dipped the small-bagged contents into the mug and then stood before his companion. Vincent looked up at him, questioningly.
"Drink this," Cid ordered, all but shoving the cup into Vincent's free hand. "It'll help yer sleep."
Vincent's eyes lowered to the bag slowly releasing its leaves into the hot water. "I don't – "
"Don't gimme that shit," Cid chastised, folding his arms. "Someone with your sure skill is fuckin' great for our group – but if he ain't in his game, he's a danger to the rest of us, too."
Vincent's will-power seemed to sag. "Cid, I –"
"Just try, okay?" Cid requested, leaning against the wall by Vincent's bed. "I kno – no… I can't really know what hell yer go through when yer sleep. But yer need sleep. Yer makin' yerself ill." It's getting kinda hard to watch, now… "That's somethin' called chamomile, it's a tea. It'll help relax yer, and with any luck, calm those bastard nightmares."
Vincent's eyes narrowed and gave the carpet an undeserving scowl – or as close to, anyway. Some strange urge in Cid yearned for the chance to touch him, to put a hand on his shoulder. But Cid wasn't a console sort of man. That stuff was still as awkward to him as it undoubtedly was for Vincent.
He was going to object, Cid could tell. The gunman's lips parted and shut before his eyes closed resolutely, almost painfully, and his shoulders lowered as a silent breath escaped him. Cid did him the favor of taking out the teabag by the tag, tossing it in the small trashcan provided.
"You're really the expert on tea, then?" Vincent finally spoke, raising his eyes to meet Cid's blue ones. He was trying to divert the unwanted attention that had fallen on him.
Cid smiled. "You bet I am," he said. "There's no other drink that's got so many varieties and beneficial properties than tea."
Vincent's lips seemed to twitch into what could vaguely be called a Valentine smile. The light in his eyes returned slowly. "When did you discover your fondness for it?"
Cid tilted his head, contemplating his memories as he propped one leg behind the other. "Grew up with it. Ma loved her tea, had it every day. Guess I inherited her tastes."
Something curious swam over Vincent's crimson eyes. "What else did you inher – " He stopped himself, shaking his head. "Sorry. I'm prying."
Cid grinned. "Pryin' is askin' me which hand I use to wipe my ass, Vince." He paused as the gunman met his eyes again with a tilt of his head, probably surprised by the butchering of his name (pleasant or mortified, Cid couldn't tell). "I'm not gonna hold a grudge if yer wanna know about me."
Their held their gaze for a moment longer, and Cid felt distinctly uncomfortable with the way those crimson eyes caused a tightening sensation in his chest.
"Very well… Chief," Vincent said finally, a sly tone in his voice and a faint – very faint – smile curling his lips. "What else did you inherit from your mother? Your charming personality?"
Cid surprised himself as a laugh burst from his lips. "Actually, that one's all me. Ma had the blue eyes, though. Pa had blond hair."
Vincent listened respectfully. "The combination used to be very common…. Now, I have only seen two people with both features during our entire journey."
Cid knew 'used to be' referred to the man's 'time' thirty years ago. "Me and Cloud?"
Vincent nodded.
Cid's brow lifted slightly, recalling various other examples of his own traits. "You haven't seen Rufus Shinra before, have yer?" Vincent shook his head, and Cid realized he wouldn't have seen him at Rocket Town during the hailstorm of bullets that had chased them out. Cid shrugged. "Another example, but a bad one." Thinking about the President brought a bitter taste back to his mouth. "Bastard," he swore under his breath.
A silence fell between them as Cid sunk into a mood, his thoughts of the space rocket dredging up bad feelings again. Movement caught his eye as Vincent raised the still steaming tea to his lips and took a careful sip. Cid watched.
Minutes later he stood from the wall and flopped onto his own bed, tugging off his goggles and dropping them on the nightstand. When he closed his eyes all he could see was his first, but stolen, baby, the Highwind.
/
When he woke the next morning, he felt cool, even under the sheets. He had discarded his clothes, save for his boxers, and despite the comforting feel of the cotton against his skin, knew he needed to expose his body to the cold air in order to get dressed. With a quick motion, he kicked the sheets off and sat up, rubbing his face, glancing across to the other bed. He was extremely surprised to see Vincent still sleeping.
"At last," Cid whispered to himself, getting to his feet.
Vincent must have fallen asleep sometime after the pilot. During the middle of the night Cid had been woken up to the sounds of moaning, finding Vincent tossing restlessly in his sleep. It was a miracle he hadn't woken himself, but he had calmed down shortly and fallen back into a deep, mostly dreamless sleep. Either he had been incredibly tired, or that chamomile tea really worked.
Getting to his feet Cid gave a quick stretch and looked over at his sleeping companion. One hand was hidden under the pillow, and Cid knew without a doubt that it was wrapped securely around his gun. Even in sleep he didn't let his guard down. Strands of his hair had strayed across the mattress around his shoulders, his head turned to the window. His cape was half-wrapped around him, he hadn't bothered sliding beneath the sheets.
Unwilling to wake him, Cid slid on his boots silently, grabbed his goggles and left the room, closing the door as quietly as possible. He hoped Vincent could gain another few hours of sleep – it would at least make up for his lack of rest. Strange, considering just how long he really slept all those years.
He found Red and Barret downstairs in the bar area, lounging around the couch. Red rose to his feet when Cid appeared.
"Cloud's already gone to the excavation site," Barret announced, standing tall from his perch on the arm of the furniture. "Spikey-head couldn't wait 'til noon."
Cid looked around for a clock and found one hanging above the reception. It told him it was mid-morning. "Can't blame him for being impatient." Not when they were so close.
Agreeing to join their leader, they left the inn and stepped out to a cool but bright day and circumvented a large group of guests returning to the inn. A few curious murmurs followed Red as they disappeared inside.
Cloud's blond hair swam into view a few minutes later amidst the darker browns and blacks in the excavation site, and Cid was reminded of Vincent's conversation last night.
Someone was talking to Cloud when they approached. "…just cleaning it up. It's amazing, I guess that theory was true."
"They found our Harp?" Barret demanded, coming to a stop behind Cloud.
Turning to them, Cloud passed his eyes over each of them as he said, "yes. They dug it out a few minutes ago. The team is dusting it off. We can have it in a few minutes."
"Better get the group rounded up, then," Cid announced.
"I've called Tifa, she and Yuffie should be down with Cait," Cloud told him, looking back over at the tent near them. He turned back to Cid. "Where's Vincent?"
Cid was about to say the gunman was resting, but felt it was too private for the others to know. Strangely. Instead, he said, "I'll get him." And with that he took off at a sure pace back to the inn.
He expected Vincent to have disappeared, or at least be up and awake. But when he opened the door, the pale man was still sleeping soundly. Cid paused for a surprised second. It was rare, and he hated to disturb him, but they needed to get going.
Cid stood by Vincent's bed and reached down to shake a shoulder softly. "Vincent. Hey, Vince, wake –"
Vincent shot up in bed so quickly Cid didn't have time to blink, red eyes wide beneath a very dangerous scowl. The Captain was very clearly aware of the triple-barreled gun at his temple.
"Cid," the man breathed, lowering the weapon. He closed his eyes briefly and pressed a hand to his face, taking a deep breath. "Please don't stand over me," he said so quietly Cid wasn't sure he was speaking to him.
Frowning vaguely, Cid realized he was bending over the bed, a hand still on his shoulder. He gave it a squeeze before he could stop himself and let go, flopping down on the end of the bed, putting sufficient space between them. He'd never seen Vincent look fragile, but it seemed to be the most accurate description right then. Cid could only guess what nightmare he had woken up from. Or to, said a nasty voice in the back of his mind. Cid questioned it. You were standing over him when he was lying down. Remind you of any crazy scientist scenario?
Well, shit.
Unclasping the water canteen that he always had clipped to his belt, Cid unscrewed the top and offered it to the gunman wordlessly. Vincent raised his red eyes to the bottle and lowered his hand from his face. He'd been caught in a weak moment once again, and Cid could feel the shame radiating from his body. Still, Cid gave him no show of sympathy, and instead adopted a firm expression and shook the water canteen stubbornly. Vincent took it.
"We got the Harp," Cid told him as he watched the man drink. "We'll be leavin' for the Forest as soon as everyone's ready."
Vincent swallowed, his composure recovering quickly, his eyes seemingly stuck to Cid's, as though he couldn't decide what the pilot would do next. It was unnerving how piercing those eyes were when they were boring into Cid's.
Feeling a little uncomfortable – not at all what Cid was used to feeling – he forced himself to stare back, even as Vincent returned the half-empty canteen and blinked softly, effectively ending their staring session. His eyes lowered from Cid's blue ones, flickering across his features before turning them on the window, frowning at the sunlight behind the flimsy curtains.
"What time is it?" Vincent finally spoke, looking back at Cid.
"Mid-mornin''" Cid said, returning the cap to the bottle and then to his belt. He offered Vincent a lop-sided smile, pleased to see that the dark circles had disappeared from Vincent's once-again flawless face. "Guess that tea worked."
The gunman gave him a semi-confirming look. There had been nightmares, but they had been bearable. He slid his long legs off the bed and stood, his hair falling back into a neat mess down his shoulders. He holstered his gun and resituated his cape mantle, tucking his chin behind it. He looked down at Cid from the corner of his eyes.
"Ready?" He questioned, emotionless as usual.
Cid stood and spied his weapon on the far wall (he'd almost forgotten it again). He grabbed the spear and followed Vincent out of the door. They were with the rest of Avalanche a few minutes later. The Harp was clutched securely in Cloud's hands. A gleaming, golden instrument of beauty.
"Let's go," their leader said resolutely.
With that, they followed him to the end of the village, to where the Sleeping Forest lay waiting.
/