A/N: I was gone. I still have no idea how I managed a chapter. I feel like it's a bit choppier than I'd like, but I'm not going to nitpick. I will likely be posting every two to three days during the holidays, since everyone seems to drag me into stuff *shakes fist* I'm the Grinch. I hate Christmas, and it's not even here yet!
Don't worry, I adore all of you, and I am loving writing this! And if I could I would skip sleep to get out another chapter for you! I feel guilty. Thanks to: KT, kiralover44, Valitiel, Gismo1, DelphiProphesy, Nalie, CaseyAnn'sPrecious, minoki, Kyuubi-ismy-homie, Risikaa, OvenBased, whatevergirl, and NicotineGum! And Nalie, don't worry, it was totally me; I fucked up. ghost of gene rayburn, you have permission to smack me on the head...I was talking to you in chapter...19? I think it was chapter 19. Anyway, you mentioned Malcolm MacDowell and I wrote Nalie for some reason. Yep, smack me with an axe. Sorry. I keep posting at 4:00 in the morning while I'm half sleeping on my keyboard.
Vincent was still very weak, however, he did his best not to show it.
He was sitting next to Sephiroth in the helicopter, his dark eyes looking out at the scenery that continually passed by the open doorway.
Sephiroth was doing something similar, as Vincent stole a glance at him. He couldn't help but look; Sephiroth was exceedingly quiet at times, which made Vincent feel somewhat awkward. He realized though, that the General had as much to think about as he himself did.
The flowing silver hair was trapped behind Sephiroth's back, but wisps of it always managed to escape, flitting their way into the man's face, or finding their way over to Vincent.
Vincent had always wondered why it was that Sephiroth wore his hair down; he never changed it. It must have been difficult to fight with so many silken strands to get tangled in. Vincent smiled to himself. It was...rebellious, not only to have such long hair, but to refuse to make it at all times, neat and orderly. And Vincent knew no one would dare tell the man that he needed to cut his hair, or arrange it differently.
There was so much he didn't know about Sephiroth. The man kept secrets, his eyes told that much. Yet everyone thought they knew him. Vincent knew he himself had at times thought he somehow understood the General, but really, what did he know about him? Virtually nothing when he actually considered it.
Vincent looked over again for a moment, only to find the green eyes in question staring right back at him. Vincent could feel his skin heat a little, but he refused to seem so shy and unsure, his own gaze unwavering from behind the locks of black hair that kept getting in his line of vision.
Sephiroth only observed him, saying nothing. The man seemed like a statue, save for his wild hair.
Had Sephiroth known he was watching him?
"Can I ask where we're going, sir?" Vincent said through the loud noise of the helicopter.
There was the slightest hint of a smile on the General's lips. "Near the ocean," Sephiroth replied simply, his eyes darting to the scenery passing outside of the doorway Vincent was closest to.
Renault was still alive and well. Sephiroth had chosen to leave him alive; instinct told him the assistant was no direct threat. He had also easily convinced Renault to keep in contact with him. Sephiroth had decided he would use the assistant as a way to get the drugs he needed, as Renault was far too nervous to ever turn against him. As long as Sephiroth kept an eye on him, he could be useful the same way Hojo had been.
It was likely the assistant would maintain Hojo's lab; there would be many questions, but Sephiroth had made it clear that he was not to be mentioned, nor was Vincent. It would be Renault's responsibility to create a lie for all of the hosting companies. It mattered little to the General if Renault was killed because of it, or confessed his involvement. Sephiroth did not regret his decision to finish Hojo, as it was what had needed to be done for quite some time. Any consequences would not negate that simple action.
Vincent nodded, not sure what to say. Instead he tried not to stare, turning away toward the doorway. He was very painful, his muscles sore, though the mako solution seemed to have helped somewhat. He wasn't stiff and almost immoveable as he had been before, though he definitely wouldn't be doing anything that required exertion for several days, if not longer.
The rest of the way was quiet as they neared Nibelheim. Vincent had never seen the place, only heard of it. He knew though that it was not their destination; Sephiroth's motorcycle was strapped down in the small space in front of them, held by several thick ropes that were tied to metal plates in the floor. Nibelheim was not near the ocean, at least not very close.
It was odd the way Sephiroth seemed to trust the two Turks; they weren't always on the best of terms with SOLDIER. Though they worked alongside one another, it was often quite grudgingly and with little more than a vague respect. But he had the impression that Sephiroth knew these two quite well, as they had all talked easily with him when they had arrived to pick them up. It was almost joking (at least on Reno's part), which made Vincent feel somewhat at ease. He remembered the Turks from his flight to Wutai, as well as glimpses of them through half lidded eyes when Sephiroth had taken him to Hojo.
The helicopter set down outside of the place itself, sending puffs of dirt up and anything nearby swaying.
The blades slowly winded down, their shadow swirling over the ground in the midmorning sun.
Reno turned in his seat, giving Vincent an arrogant smirk over his shoulder. "Thank you for choosing Reno air."
There was a bit of clattering as Reno struggled with his seatbelt, trying to wrench it from the holder. Rude only shook his head, easily undoing his own buckle and rising from the chair.
Sephiroth had gotten up as well, crouching to begin unfastening the ropes that lashed down the silver vehicle. Vincent tried to help, but realized almost instantly that if he bent down far enough he might not be able to pull himself to his feet again. Luckily Rude was already untying the ropes alongside the General.
Reno was all smiles when he made his way past the motorcycle, casting a glance at the two at work as he adjusted his goggles on his forehead.
"You know, I think they deserve each other," Reno said with a grin, jabbing a finger over his shoulder and raising his eyebrows suggestively. "Too much hair and not enough hair. Baldy and Hairy."
Vincent couldn't help but laugh a little, noticing that both Sephiroth and Rude were ignoring the redhead.
"They both don't talk either. Strong silent types," Reno was nodding to himself, his grin even wider.
Vincent shook his head, smiling. He could feel himself beginning to blush slightly from the implications. Unlike the conversations from other SOLDIERs, he knew the Turk was just being himself and meant no harm.
"Kid, I think you need to be recruited," Reno said, cuffing Vincent on the shoulder. "I need someone to laugh at my jokes; it helps the self esteem. All this silence and staring is hard on a poor lonely bachelor. There's so much tension it's...uh...aw fuck, what's the word?" Reno waved a hand around in emphasis, "You know that fancy one?"
"Palpable?" Vincent suggested.
"Yeah, yeah, that one, yo!" Reno agreed, pointing back to Sephiroth and Rude again. "Yeah, they're uh...palpable. It's palpable...whatever... And besides, don't you think they would have lovely, mute children?"
"Reno..." Rude warned, though his lips twitched a little.
"What? I'm just saying. Like don't they do that crazy kind of shit over in the labs? Yeah, I'm sure they do...like blend things together and stuff...Besides, don't be ashamed man, it's okay. I know you really want some kids with hair on their heads...it's the perfect solution. You don't have to be bald forever; I'm sure they'll figure it out, yo."
Vincent tried not to laugh audibly from the way one of Rude's eyebrows arched from over the top of his dark sunglasses. Reno had his arms crossed in front of him, as he glanced over at his partner. Upon seeing the look Rude had conjured, Reno's expression changed to 'oh fuck, I think I'm in trouble', as he grinned broadly and made his way out of the helicopter in full retreat, red ponytail swinging behind him.
Vincent's eyes had traveled to Sephiroth, who looked up at him momentarily. The General wasn't smiling, but his eyes were different, amused. Both he and Rude easily maneuvered the bike out of the doorway, Vincent moving to the side to give them room.
They set it down on the dirt, Reno skulking off to the side, trying to hide his mischievous grin. Vincent slowly made his way out and to the ground, having to hold into the doorway to help his battered body.
He was still wearing the clothes that he'd found in the chair. They were oversized, but they covered him at least. The slight breeze kept catching under his shirt, chilling his stomach and chest and blowing the material in every conceivable direction. Sephiroth's silver hair and long coat seemed to be likewise affected.
Sephiroth was prepping the motorcycle and adding their luggage, as Reno came sauntering over to Vincent.
"Yeah, look at those lovebirds," Reno said lowly, wagging his eyebrows.
Rude was standing next to the bike, talking quietly to Sephiroth from behind his dark sunglasses.
Vincent shook his head, unable to suppress a smile. "They're going to hear you..."
Reno was quite for a moment, seeming to decide whether or not he wanted to say something. Naturally, impetuousness won out. "So uh...you okay?" Reno asked, his look becoming more serious.
Vincent frowned for a moment, then nodded. "Yes, I'm fine."
"Cool," Reno answered, messing with his goggles. He seemed nervous suddenly, pushing at the dirt with a shoe. He was about to say something else, but never got the chance.
"Private Valentine," Sephiroth called.
Rude was standing stoically with his arms crossed, his expression looking stern. Reno followed Vincent, grinning cheekily to his partner, all seriousness forgotten. Sephiroth was already on the motorcycle, the engine rumbling almost imperceptibly.
Sephiroth would have brought a second motorcycle for Vincent to use, both for the trip, as well as for later when he would be staying at the house, but it would just cause more questions to arise. There were enough of those.
Vincent was suddenly embarrassed. He hadn't even taken the time to think about the fact that he was going to be sitting very close to the General. He shook his head as discretely as he could, and stood next to the bike awkwardly. Firsts shared motorcycles all of the time; in fact he'd received brief training both on how to operate one safely, as well as to compensate for a second rider. It was a perfectly normal occurrence, but for Vincent it was suddenly a nightmare.
He hadn't thought of the dreams lately; he hadn't had them, only the ones filled with strange monsters and bloody corpses during his unconsciousness. In fact, he preferred those gory dreams and had been thankful that the others had not returned to haunt him during his stay at the lab. There seemed to be a residual anger deep below the surface of his consciousness, something that he couldn't exactly acknowledge openly, but he somehow felt, unsure of what it meant.
Vincent moved to get on the motorcycle behind Sephiroth, awkwardly trying to not sit too closely to him. He grabbed onto anything near his hands to brace himself, completely avoiding Sephiroth.
"Reno, Rude," Sephiroth said, giving a nod. "Thank you."
"Later," Reno grinned, giving an exaggerated wave.
Rude inclined his head, giving a short, reassuring smile to Vincent. It did help to calm him slightly, as he gripped onto the metal until his knuckles turned white.
When the motorcycle began to slowly move, Vincent suddenly had flashes of how fast it had been going when Sephiroth had found him in the desert. He swallowed nervously, as it made its way around the helicopter and toward Nibelheim at a steady pace. He looked back at Reno and Rude over his shoulder, their figures shrinking with each passing second.
It became apparent very quickly that it only seemed as though they were going to Nibelheim. They skirted the village, not even going close enough to be spotted by anyone except for a very brief instant.
Sephiroth, Vincent noticed, had pushed his hair inside his coat prior to getting on the bike. Not only did it keep his hair from flying in Vincent's face, but it made him hard to recognize when he passed by at a swift speed.
It was easy to hold on, at first. It suddenly became an entirely different matter when they had moved away from the village. Suddenly the speed increased drastically, and Vincent felt unsteady holding on to the edges of the bike.
Sephiroth's gloved hand appeared behind his coat just as Vincent tried to quell his own panic. Sephiroth looked back for a split second, his green eyes conveying a silent message. Vincent understood, and took the hand, which wrapped his arm around the waist in front of him without ceremony. It shouldn't have been a problem, but Vincent was completely uncomfortable within seconds.
He could feel the heat radiating off of Sephiroth, even through the smooth leather. His black hair was no longer in his face, the force of the wind so strong that he lowered his head behind Sephiroth's body so that his eyes wouldn't water. He could feel Sephiroth breathing, and concentrated on it as the ground seemed to become a blur. He didn't like looking down; it almost made him dizzy, as his eyes tried to focus on something that was nothing but streaming images. It was exhilarating, but at the same time, terrifying. He had never gone so fast before.
Vincent did everything not to think about how close the General was, trying to ignore the solidity of the waist beneath the coat, and the way he was slowly being moved closer and closer to the boy in front of him. He kept trying to move backward without seeming too obvious, but within a few minutes he was back where he started.
His body seemed to be reacting of its own accord, but combined with the fear he was feeling it wasn't as bad as it could have been. The cold wind had sort of a numbing effect on him, making his face feel dry and his lips feel papery. He had long ago tucked the huge shirt into his pants, which kept it from rising over his stomach and exposing the skin to the wind, and also decreased the likelihood of Sephiroth noticing anything else.
Sephiroth drove insanely compared to what Vincent was comfortable doing himself, making extreme turns at times as they followed winding paths through the landscape. But Vincent wasn't so much afraid of the driving as he was at falling off. He clutched at Sephiroth when they moved too quickly, cursing himself for being so obvious about it. Sephiroth slowed down after that, much to Vincent's comfort and embarrassment.
The wind started to smell different; that was the first thing he noticed. There was the distinct scent of salt and a sort of wetness to the air that seemed to stick to any exposed skin, particularly his face. Vincent felt as though he could taste it, which was a bizarre sensation.
He had noticed that everything seemed...clearer somehow since after whatever it was Hojo had done. Being outside really amplified those differences in a way that the lab could not. Smells and sights had changed somehow, becoming more intense, more sharp. Vincent felt as though he was closer to them, as though he could appreciate them in a way he had been incapable of previously.
When he saw it, his breath caught.
The horizon was water, swaying frothing water as far as he could look into the distance. It seemed to stretch on past the world itself. The partially covered sun sent yellow and white glints across the shimmering ever moving surface, making Vincent squint to see.
The beach was sandy at first, but as they advanced it changed to piled, broken stone, which at times was almost clifflike as it descended into the ocean. Waves pushed forever into the shore, always forced back, never making much more progress than the last attempt.
Vincent couldn't help but sniff the foreign air. It was a welcome distraction to the sensations in his lower body he was pointedly ignoring.
The ground got bumpier as they moved closer toward the rock-covered shore. Vincent was forced to remember just how damaged his body was, as every little movement made him ache. He had been sitting in the same position for too long, which made it all the worse. He didn't dwell on it though, as he realized that they were moving toward a small house in the distance.
Like most homes near water, it was built on a foundation of tall poles, which would hopefully save it from any particularly high tides. It was noticeably weather-worn, the wood slats long turned a deep brown that was almost black and rotted in spots.
The ocean was in front of it, though a good distance away. Directly in front of the residence, were round, polished rocks that had long been worn into the ground from being driven over. There was a small structure toward the back, which didn't seem to be inhabitable.
The oceanfront itself was also rocky, not the sandy beaches that Vincent had seen earlier. Either way though, he didn't mind; the rocks looked as though they would be a good place to train. They would definitely be slippery and a challenge to cross quickly when he was well enough to even attempt it.
They finally stopped in front of the house, the heat rising invisibly off of the bike, though Vincent could easily feel it against his cooled skin. He released the General, moving to hold onto the motorcycle again as Sephiroth turned off the engine and moved off of it. Sephiroth stopped to look at the house for a moment, while Vincent struggled to swing a stiff, sore leg over the side.
He was thankful for the huge shirt he had stuffed into his pants; it covered anything that was still going on.
Sephiroth turned back to him just as he managed to get off of the bike, his green eyes noticing the strain of such a simple movement.
"Are you alright?" he asked, moving forward as Vincent stood near the silver motorcycle unsteadily.
Vincent nodded, trying not to wince. He waited a long moment before walking, taking his steps slowly and avoiding any rocks that would trip him up. Sephiroth walked alongside him, not saying anything, though his hand moved out each time Vincent stumbled.
He could hear the ocean in his ears as he followed Sephiroth all the way up the tall staircase, his eyes wandering across the expanse.
"Is this the only house here?" Vincent asked quietly, as he waited for the General to unlock the door.
"Yes, for several miles. This part of the coast isn't considered as desirable as many of the other locations; its generally rented out by fishermen rather than tourists," Sephiroth replied conversationally, as he let Vincent inside.
The inside was surprisingly well kept. It was almost reminiscent of a log cabin, with the doorway leading straight into a livingroom covered in polished wood with a monumental fireplace that took up most of the back wall. The mantel was made from a huge scrap of wood, though it had been sanded, still full of knots and interesting indentations.
There were two huge couches, which had a velvety black material that seemed out of place with everything else. The carpet was pale, but clean, turning into scratched hardwood flooring as it moved toward the kitchen.
Vincent felt at ease; it was very unpretentious. It wasn't too neat or too clean, and everything seemed to be meant for comfort rather than looks, from the short coffee table, to the sparse decorations and plush couches. It was the complete opposite of the lab he had just come from, and for that, Vincent couldn't help but feel his anxiety diminish. Vincent smiled.
Sephiroth gave a small smile himself, as he turned back to the door.
Vincent was left alone as Sephiroth descended the staircase to get their things. He walked into the kitchen, his hands tracing over the counters as he ignored his stiff, painful limbs.
The island and counters were spaced a good ways apart, with a refrigerator in the corner and a sink that took up a lot of space. It seemed to be for cleaning fish, as Vincent thought of the fishermen Sephiroth had mentioned.
There were two bedrooms down the hall, one larger, the other slightly smaller and more cluttered. Both had nice beds and desks, and the larger one had a floor to ceiling window that the ocean was visible from.
As Vincent was standing in one of the rooms, the lights flicked to life with a dull hum. He realized Sephiroth must have started a generator.
He moved back to the livingroom, noticing that their things were already there. He smiled a little, though he was somewhat angry with himself for not being able to help. He settled on a couch, letting out a shaky breath, as his muscles relaxed against the softness of the cushions.
It wasn't the labs. His eyes closed at the thought, as the familiar antiseptic smell arose from the memory alone. He shook his head, rubbing his face with his hands.
He was just grateful to be somewhere that didn't smell like floor cleaner mixed with blood and mako. It smelled like a house, with the underlying scent of the ocean and all things associated with it.
He was grateful to be away from that place, that dark, sinister metal box.