I sigh as another person stomps past, splashing mud all over my already disgusting clothing. Of course, the Edge doesn't have much respect for those in the streets, and they hold even less regard for those who are truly suffering. Looking to my right, I see a small group of children whose arms and legs and faces are draped with dirty cloths of all kinds to cover the Stigma. To them, forgetting is a means of healing. To me, forgetting is a blessing. A bark snaps me out of my daze and I tear my eyes away from a little girl's moogle toy.
"Hey, Ruka," I greet, smiling softly and ruffling the muddy fur on the dog's head. Her matted fur stains my hand with dirt, but I don't pay it any mind. I take the paper bag from her mouth and open it up. Two cookies, still packaged. The corner of my mouth twitches and I force myself to my feet, my aching legs protesting as I carry myself over to the group of kids.
"It's the dog lady!" a little boy calls.
"What did Rukie bring this time?!"
"She has something!"
I shake my head, amused, and crouch to their level, opening the bag and starting to split the treats. Four kids, each gets a half… I pause and look over at the girl with the moogle, who stands a short distance away, watching curiously. I can't evenly divide...
Yes, you can. Divide each into fourths and keep the rest for yourself.
No, I'll find her something else.
You're star—
And she's dying!
What would Valentine say?
I freeze, my hand outstretched to offer the last cookie half. The last child snatches it away, savoring each sweet bite as he gives me a muffled "thank you."
He'd say nothing because he's not here.
I stand, shaking my head and watching the moogle girl while she stares at the other children. I've only ever seen those four push her away, force her out, because she "cries too much." I can tell she's been through a lot, and she hardly looks a day over nine. She has every right to shed a few tears. The fact that any child has to suffer through anything like this… It makes me sick.
Ruka barks and I run my hand down her dirty fur absentmindedly. I wonder where he is now? He saved my life after I blew Sephiroth to smithereens. He saved Shadow from an eternal prison with my soul. I can't thank him enough—but it's all mental, of course. I haven't seen him in a long time.
~2 years ago~
Red. I see red, too. My eyes slide shut and I cough, the smoke that's filling the crater burning my throat.
"Violet!" How cute… Hearing his voice before I go.
"Vi! Where the hell are ya?!" Cid, too, huh? Weird, but okay.
"Damn… Cid, over here!"
I frown and force one eye open, my world rocking back and forth beneath me. More red. And… blue now? Everything's made of scattered patches of color, some black, some blue, some red.
"Violet…" I'm hoisted into the air, a face nestled in the crook of my neck as my rescuer runs from the crumbling cave. Another man runs at his side. "...You lied."
"I'm sorry," I croak, finally giving in and letting my head loll back as exhaustion consumes me.
When I next wake, I'm not entirely sure where I am. I can make out the smell of oil and something herbal. I open my eyes to see patchy brown curtains drawn tightly and a mug of cold tea sitting on the nightstand alongside a half-full pack of cigarettes. The plain white door is cracked open and I can hear voices downstairs. The clock on the wall tells me that it's nearly midnight. The closet to my left is open, showing my boots on the floor, my cloak hanging up, and my leggings and shirt folded on a bin. A thin layer of dust coats my black pants and I frown. How long has it been? I force my legs to move; they feel stiff as if they can hardly move from staying still.
Frustrated, I take hold of the wall and use it to support my weight on my way down the stairs. I'm dressed in a shirt that's far too big and pajama pants that have been tied tightly to fit my narrow hips. I pull them back up sharply when they begin to slide down. Where am I?
I finally manage to get to the first floor of the house and I recognize my surroundings. Cid Highwind's house. Where is everyone? I press on until I reach the living room, where I catch sight of something that both warms my heart and floods me with relief. Cid lays with his head flopped back, snoring loudly, and his arm thrown along the back of the couch. Vincent sits in a big chair farther away from the television, head having fallen onto his shoulder and his feet propped up on the ottoman. He's still wearing his ridiculous shoes.
His neck is gonna be sore tomorrow. There's a soft rattle in the kitchen and I use the wall to get there, my knobby knees aching as I turn into the bright room. Shera stands by the sink, drying dishes and placing them in their cabinets quietly. I clear my throat softly and she jumps, turning to see me giving her a weak smile.
"Miss Crescent! You're awake!"
"Eh, yeah," I shrug, surprised by how different my voice sounds, as if all it needed was a good rest.
"Gods, I'm glad you're alright," she smiles. "But what are you doing walking around in that condition!?"
"Just came to let you know I exist," I shrug again, uncomfortably pulling the pajama pants up again.
"Vi?" Cid? I turn my head sharply to see a sleepy confused pilot rubbing his eyes. "Yer up?"
"Mhm."
"Good," he grins, standing and heading over. "Doc kept sayin' you were gonna stay down forever. Told 'im that wasn't my Violet." I laugh weakly and accept his unintentionally bone-crushing hug. "Vin's been worried, y'know. Wouldn't stop pacin' and goin' upstairs to see ya."
"How long was I…?" My voice trails off as he lets me go, eyeing Shera over my shoulder. Without his boots, he's clearly shorter than me. I hide a snide smile.
"Lemme see… You went out the day we beat Sephiroth, and that's one, two… Three weeks ago?"
"Sounds right, Captain," Shera nods, pushing her glasses up.
"Three weeks?" I repeat, trying to wrap my mind around how many things could have happened in that time. I should be dead.
"Yeah," he crosses his arms. "Had Yuffie worried sick, too. Poor brat worships ya."
"She definitely should have stuck with Leviathan," I scoff, rolling my eyes. He grins.
"Glad to see you haven't changed at all."
"Mm…" Vincent hums, stretching his arms as he stands, his brows furrowing when he turns his neck. "I'm going to bed now, Cid—" He stops short when he sees two heads of blonde hair instead of one. "...Violet?"
"Yeah?" I raise an eyebrow.
He stares. I awkwardly pull my pants up.
"Whose clothes are these?" I ask finally. "They're kinda big on me."
"They were mine from a while back," Shera sighs. "They fit alright when you first got here."
"Oh."
"Violet." I'm enveloped in a blanket of black and red, long, thin arms holding me tight.
"Vincent," I reply dryly, hugging him back just as tightly. "Okay, wow. You never struck me as a touchy-feely guy who would squeeze the orange juice out of me."
"I'm not."
"Then please let go. You're crushing my ribs."
Almost immediately, I'm set free, forced to dizzily look up at Vincent. Shera clears her throat, catching Cid's eye and nodding toward the stairs. He huffs and leads the way; Shera follows with brisk steps. I lean against the wall and give Vince a once over. Yup; still skinny and pale.
"So, how've you been?" I ask casually. He frowns.
"Impatient."
"Aw, sorry." I grimace. "They don't happen to have a spare toothbrush I could use, do they?"
"Follow me." He starts to lead the way, pausing when sees me using the wall for support. "Would you like help?"
"Yes," I roll my eyes. "No need to be a stranger."
"… Sorry." He steps back and lifts me effortlessly, flinching when my elbow stabs his ribs.
"... I mean, you don't have to carry me, but alright." A moment of tense silence passes. "Hey, do you know anything about Shadow?" I ask, letting my head fall back so that the world passes by upside down. "She hasn't said anything."
"I don't recall anything."
"You're still as awkward as ever."
He sets me down beside the counter, fishing through the medicine cabinet. Something topples over and he reaches to catch it, nearly knocking me into another three-week slumber when his elbow smacks me in the face.
"Ow!"
"Are you alright?" He turns to examine my face where he struck me.
"I'm fine," I laugh, snatching the toothbrush from his grasp and look it over. "Well, it looks clean."
I shrug and get to brushing. Oh well. What do I have to lose? Vincent stands outside the bathroom, arms crossed as he waits patiently. I yawn when I step out of the small space, and despite my protests, he lifts me up again and takes me upstairs, setting me in the bed I woke up in.
"I'm not tired," I pout. "I just slept for three weeks, remember?" Vincent ignores me, pulling the seat beside the bed closer and sitting down. Just to irritate him, I sit up, crossing my legs. "What happened while I was out?"
"Yuffie and I assisted the people escaping Midgar after we took you back, as Reeve commanded. Meteor was ultimately stopped by the Lifestream."
"Reeve?"
"He's planning to start a program to rebuild the city—it's called the World Regenesis Organization. However, it's far from order. While we were there I—" He pauses, shaking his head.
"What?"
"Nevermind."
"Vincent."
"It's nothing," he replies, offering a slight, hidden smile. "I'm relieved you're awake. I was tempted to leave, but Cid forced me to stay."
"It worked out, just like I said," I grin. He frowns.
"I thought I had committed another unforgivable sin by simply allowing you to go." His eyes fall to the floor for the moment before he looks back up. "I assumed you would never awaken."
"But I'm alright," I smile, placing my hand over his soft cheek. He sits there a moment before leaning into the touch ever so slightly.
"Are you?"
"Yeah."
"Hm."
I roll my eyes and lean forward, using his shoulder as my support as I kiss him for the first time since the Northern Crater. He stiffens unexpectedly, but he follows along eventually. Something's bothering you. I pull away, searching his eyes for any sign of what.
"What's wrong?" I demand.
"What do you mean?" he frowns.
"Vincent, what's bothering you?"
"It's nothing for you to be concerned about," he shakes his head. "I merely assumed that, if you did wake up, you would want nothing to do with me any longer."
"Why would I do that?" I frown, cocking my head to the side. "I went through with it because I wanted to."
"I don't know," he sighs. "I… read the letter Lucrecia gave you." He reaches up and gingerly tucks my loose hair behind my ear. "...You did it."
"I know," I grin. "I'm a real genius, right?" He shakes his head, standing and forcing me to lay down.
"Get some rest, Violet."
"Where are you going?" I demand.
"I have my own-"
"Stay here. I don't feel like waking up alone again just to forget where I am." He hesitates before granting my request, coming closer to sit back in the chair. I shake my head. "In the bed, Vince. And take off that cape first. I don't feel like getting strangled." He raises an eyebrow, his eyes never leaving mine as he unbuckles his cape and drapes it over the back of the chair. "Why are you looking at me like that? It's not like a told you to strip."
"You may as well have." He starts toward the bed, pulling back the covers. I fight a smile.
"Would you?"
"Pardon?" He frowns, arching an eyebrow.
"If I asked," I sit up, laughing. "Would you?"
"Get some sleep," he shakes his head and shifts onto the mattress beside me, keeping as much respectful distance as possible. I roll my eyes, flopping down so the bed bounces and curl up against his back for warmth.
"I missed you."
"Hn."
"Wow, okay," I laugh smacking his back.
"Violet—"
"I know, I know, time to—"
"I missed you too."
"Aw," I coo, snickering at his silence. " Aren't we sweet? Goodnight, Vince." I freaking hate you, Vincent Valentine.
After that, I'd woken up every morning in the Highwind house with him by my side. It only took another few days for me to recover once Shadow's presence returned, and then he finally admitted he was sick of the place, despite how much he genuinely enjoyed Cid's company. So, we wandered the Planet, doing odd jobs for the first year. Six months ago, after my first attack, he told me to go to Midgar and stay with Tifa until he could figure something out. I didn't go right away. I'd sooner die from the Stigma than live with that bitch. I insisted on staying, on not leaving him behind. After he found me writhing in the woods during my second attack, he carried me all the way to Edge and left me in Tifa's bar.
I have my phone, of course, but he doesn't own one. Very rarely does he find himself in the company of Cid, who forces him to call me and let me know he's still alive. To make sure I'm alive. I haven't received one of those in three months. I don't think he gives a shit anymore. He could visit, but I won't make him. I know he hates it in the Edge.
Ruka barks cheerfully and faithfully follows me as I head down the street and take a right. The gray, drab city is overcast as usual. Hardly any color marks the streets, buildings, or people.
"Ruka, fetch," I sigh, motioning toward the dumpster just ahead of me. She bounds off obediently, leaping into the trash and digging. I crouch in the alleyway beside her, ignoring peoples' disgusted looks. You think they'd at least try to acknowledge a member of Avalanche, the whole reason they're alive, but I think that's just it. Most of them would rather have died by Meteor than deal with this suffering, the Stigma, and the loss of their homes.
Tifa made it very clear that she still doesn't trust me and I made it clear that I still dislike her. I left shortly after I woke up, and we hardly run into each other anymore. When she does see me, she remarks that I could use a shower and a job, which she is oh-so-willing to provide, and a hobby to distract myself while I helplessly await the return of my lover. She says, as she tends an empty bar and hangs around waiting for Cloud to return. I'm no damsel in distress; currently, I'm just a woman trying to feed these starving kids.
Ruka returns with a plastic bag, and inside is a perfectly clean, ripe apple. I grin, scratching her ears and taking the bag away.
"Good girl." I turn tail and return to the children. The moogle girl stands in the same place as always, watching the others play. She looks up as I approach, her brown eyes lighting up when I hold up the fruit. "Hey, look what I found."
"Thank you, Miss Violet," she smiles, gingerly taking the apple.
"Yeah, it's no problem." I grin, ruffling her hair gently. "You enjoy that."
"I will, Miss Violet."
I nod, motioning for my dog to follow me. We head down the road side by side, most people avoiding me because of my stigma and Ruka because of her stench. To be fair, she smells. An old woman who lives on the way to my makeshift shelter stands on her porch, waving me over when she sees me coming.
"How are you, dear?" she asks, her wrinkled face breaking into a pitiful smile.
"Alright," I shrug. "It's been a while since I had an attack."
"Good! And how's the eye?" I sigh and gingerly touch the bandage wrapped around my head just enough to cover the splotches over my right eye.
"Not great. I still can't see very well."
"Yes, it's quite unfortunate when the Stigma ruins our bodies," she sighs, absently tightening the gauze around her forearm.
"I guess so," I reply, petting Ruka's head absently. "I should get going now. It's going to get dark soon."
"Dear, can I get you anything from the kitchen?" she asks, her gray eyebrows pinching together.
"No, thank you," I shake my head.
"At least take some water. It would make me feel better."
"Alright," I give in, rolling my eyes at Shadow's snickering. She opens her chipped door and motions for me to follow. So I do, stepping into the entryway of her rickety old house cautiously. I've been in here before; this woman shows more compassion toward people than anyone else I've met since Meteor.
"My grandson, Jeremy, is still in bed with the illness. His poor mother," she shakes her head as she bustles about the kitchen. "She passed from it last month."
"I know the feeling," I nod, scanning the bland walls of the house. Mandy…
~Six months ago~
"Hello?" I answer my ringing phone with a frown, poking at the fire with a stick. Vincent watches in silence, the flames casting eerie shadows onto his face.
"Mom?"
"Josh?" I frown, glancing over at Vince. He raises an eyebrow in response.
"Good, I got the right number!" I smile to myself, noting how similar his voice is to David's. "Listen, uh… Could you get over here any time soon?"
"We're in the mountains right now," I frown. "Why?"
"It's Mandy. My daughter?" Joshua sighs on the other line. "She's had the Stigma for a while now, and it's getting pretty bad. She asked if she could see you before she, uh, saw 'Grandpa.'"
"Uh…" I chew on the inside of my cheek, thinking. Is this because I changed it all? Is this my punishment? "I can try to hurry over there."
"Thanks. Why don't you bring Vincent along?"
"Like I have a choice," I roll my eyes.
"Yeah, right? See ya soon, then."
"Bye," I nod, snapping the phone shut. Groaning, I throw the device onto the dirt and run my fingers through my hair.
"Is something wrong?" I shake my head, letting my head fall onto Vincent's shoulder.
"Mandy… Do you remember her?" I ask. He blinks at the fire for a moment before nodding.
"Joshua's daughter."
"Yeah. She's got Geostigma, now." He sighs and looks down at the green and gray splotches on my arm. "Only, he didn't tell me until just now, when she's on her deathbed." I sigh, shutting my eyes. "He wants us to stop by and say goodbye."
"… How old is she?"
"Five."
"Hm." He hums. "Perhaps this is the Planet's way of killing us off instead of using Holy."
"Yeah. Maybe."
"Is Mandy aware of her own father's illness?"
"No," I shake my head, squeezing his hand gently. "She… doesn't know. She thinks she's the only one."
"She doesn't have to—"
"Like you would do any different," I snap, quick to defend Josh. "He's not going to tell his daughter that he's going to die just to scare her more."
Vincent clamps his mouth shut and stares at the flames. Both of us are irritated by the circumstances. Finally, I push myself to my feet and he frowns, watching me head toward the trees.
"Where are you going?"
"Just for a walk, Vince. I'll be fine."
"But your—"
"I'll be fine."
I start off down the path, ignoring the soft ringing in my ears. Why Mandy? Why Josh? Somehow, the Stigma was carried from those who were exposed to the Lifestream in Edge to people outside. Some say that people who were in Midgar at the time of the Lifestream's appearance headed home immediately afterward and contact infected a few others. I don't care how it works; I want it gone.
The ringing only gets louder and louder until my head's spinning and I start to see spots in my blurred vision. I should probably turn back. I turn around and continue stumbling down the path until dizziness knocks me to my knees. My drive to stand ends rather quickly as I wave of agonizing pain burns the blackened spots on my arm. I grit my teeth, gripping the infected patch of skin. A black ooze drips through my fingers, spilling onto the ground. The hell is that stuff? Another jolt of pain strikes me and I cry out for help, unable to move.
"Vincent!" My head screams in protest and my lungs tighten, forcing air away. "Vince!" I can hear his feet pounding down the path. Shadow hisses her protests to the torture.
"Violet?" Two hands grip my shoulders to straighten me; one moves to lift my head. Vincent sighs, starting to pull me to my feet. "I told you not to go al—" The most torturous of the waves hits me now, a choked scream pushing past my lips as I curl in around the source of my suffering. He catches me as I pitch forward, collapsing against him as I wrestle the attack for a breath of air.
"Vince…"
"You'll be fine," he murmurs, pushing me back just enough to see the infected patch on my arm.
"I… can't…"
~Present day~
We never did make it to Rocket Town. When I next woke up, Mandy was long gone and the Stigma had spread over more of my skin. Vincent insisted that I get as much rest as possible, that he couldn't travel with the condition I was in. Mandy died with only her tortured father by her side. Last year, her mother left them for another man and took James with her. It seems those who carry my blood have the worst luck. Joshua lives alone in that house now, pacing his final days away and wondering just how he could have saved her. I tried visiting afterward, but he wouldn't open the door. Said he didn't want to see me in my condition and that it would break my heart to see him in his.
"Here you are, dear. And here's something for the two of you to share." The old woman hands over a brown paper bag and a water bottle.
"I told you, I—"
"Take it, Violet. You're pathetically thin. This isn't an illness you can starve away."
"…Thanks," I sigh, taking the items away from the stubborn woman. "Good luck with your grandson."
"Thank you. We need all the luck we can get." She offers a weak smile. "You know your way out?"
"Yeah," I smile back. "You've invited me inside far too many times." I glance down at Ruka, nodding toward the door. "C'mon, Rukie."
The dog leaps to her feet and bounds out the front door, waiting patiently for me to shut the creaking front door. Together, we walk down the worn street past suffering children and adults alike, avoiding the hungry eyes they lay on the old woman's gift. The common folk, those who are simply living through suffering and not particularly enjoyinglife, pass us by without so much as a glance; I suppose we look like your average pair of homeless, infected creatures. Though, Ruka has no disease that I'm aware of and I doubt I smell that bad despite my condition. Finally, we enter our makeshift home at the edge of the city, muddy and haggard.
I curl up under the panel of sheet metal and hang up the flower-printed sheet I use as a privacy curtain. Ruka sits at my side, wagging her tail gently as I open the paper bag to reveal a sandwich, an apple, and a package of peanut butter crackers. She knew I was coming by today… That conniving old hag... I smile and shake my head, tearing my sandwich in two and setting the bigger half in front of Ruka. She gobbles it up the second my hand pulls away; I pick the tomatoes out of my food and toss them for her to catch before digging in. My stomach growls loudly the second I take a bite. Ruka cocks her head to the side and I laugh, ruffling her black fur gently.
I tuck the apple and crackers away, saving them for the street kids, and take a long drink from the water bottle. Once I'm content, I lay back against the rough brick wall behind me and watch the shadows in our tiny hideout grow darker and darker. To me, this is better than being trapped in Tifa's bar and washing tables while she whines about Cloud. I could go anywhere else, I suppose.
Why do I stay? I don't really know. I guess I'm still waiting for Vincent