In Which We Find Our Immortality
Chapter 9: Nightmares
Vincent didn't move from his place at the wall. He stared as Cloud moved to the bed, straightening the blankets before folding it back into a sofa. He waited for the man to speak. When a minute had passed, he lost his patience. "Are you saying that I made Chaos?" he repeated his previous question."
"I'm saying," Cloud replied, "that some part of you thought it necessary. It's the only explanation that fits." He sat down on the sofa.
"I don't believe that. Do you expect me to believe that I wanted to have Chaos? That—"
"Whether you wanted it or not doesn't matter," the blonde said easily. "If you think you're a monster, you'll become one."
Vincent began to protest, then stopped himself. No…that can't be right. I never…. He shook his head and looked again to Cloud; the man's sharp, serious eyes caused his blood to run cold. It wasn't fear of Cloud that forced him to leave the room then, but fear of the truth he'd brought with him. The reality he could not bring himself to face.
Vincent entered the kitchen, hoping to busy himself with some task. The girls were preparing deli sandwiches, unspeaking even to each other. Shera was seated at the kitchen table, sobbing quietly into her hands as Marlene tried to console her. "There has to be something," the older woman whispered hoarsely as she cried. "That poor boy…we have to do something."
"We will," Marlene assured. She glanced up as Vincent entered. "Vince, are you okay?"
"Yes," he lied, taking a seat next to her. He was overwhelmed and confused. "It's just…."
"Do you believe what he said in there?"
"I'm not sure." Vincent sighed, lifting both elbows onto the table. There he paused, staring at his left arm. He curled the fingers, just to watch them move. "I wonder," he murmured. "I always thought that this arm was…a curse. To make people see my true nature." Having the claw was almost appropriate, he thought to himself. He wanted people to see what he was, because then they would stay away from him. He needed that kind of distance, even in something as simple as a physical deformity. And Chaos….
"Vincent?" Shera and Marlene were both staring at him, and he realized that he had been silent for some time. "Are you okay?" the latter repeated.
He nodded, pushing away from the table once more. "Yes, I will be. I…just need some time to think, that's all. Shera, don't worry yourself too much. Collin is a good boy."
"Are you going to have a sandwich, Vincent?" asked Daryl from the counter. "Ham and cheese?"
"Thank you, but no. I'm going to rest for a while." He nodded to them all and crossed to the stairs, avoiding taking note of Cloud in the adjoining room. The upper floor was more humid than the lower; his first activity upon reaching his room was adjusting the vent to allow for more air. Already it made him feel better. He removed his shoes and socks and lay down on the bed. This position had always been more comfortable for him. The dark, somewhat cramped spaces of his room reminded him of his long sleep beneath the Shinra Mansion in Nibelheim. Though he didn't think of that time often or favorably, he did sometimes seek that type of mindless calm. It cleared him of present concerns. Now, however, it wasn't as effective.
Vincent's thoughts were drawn back, to a time long ago. Once, his life had been very different. As a Turk, everything had been simple: follow the rules, complete the mission, keep yourself alive. Though it hadn't been a favorable existence, he'd tried not to regret those choices, even if it meant killing time and time again. He remembered the darkness of the streets, and the faces of his victims as he passed his own crude judgment. They passed with fear in their eyes—the fear of death that inhabited nearly all men and women.
He too held that fear. He feared not death itself, but ending his life without properly atoning for those sins that he had so calmly committed. If he were to die, slipping out of this idle life and into that deep slumber, what would become of him? Even though he was not a religious man, he feared whatever punishment the earth might have in store for him. If he was to die, it would have to be after his penance. Only after that would he allow himself peace.
Vincent paused, quickly replaying all his thoughts just then. Life instead of death, he mused silently. I can't die—I haven't finished living. Is…is that what causes my apparent agelessness? Sephiroth and Cloud had Jenova, same as I, but they aged perfectly. Cloud even looks older than his late age. He gazed down at his arm once more. I created this arm, this mark. I stopped my age. And I…created Chaos, as an excuse. My punishment, and my true nature.
No. That was too much to take. Chaos wasn't his fault—it was a demon, controlling and manipulating him into something evil. Even if he deserved the title "monster," even if the form of Chaos had been suggested to his mind as an excellent form of perdition in the past, that didn't mean….
Vincent sighed, gazing up at the ceiling. It made too much sense, even to him. He could he not accept that the one who had committed so many sins, and the one who demanded reparations for them, was one in the same? Fate wasn't punishing him; he was punishing himself.
Vincent opened his eyes a little wider, allowing more of the room's dull light into his sight. He lifted his left arm, studying the gold that had for so long held him as a prisoner. He curled the fingers once more, willing them to become smooth, normal flesh. They merely reflected the light from a slowly setting sun.
"Tess, you've got to calm down," Rajiel instructed firmly. She, Alex, Amber, and Tess were seated around the table in Tess's living room. Her father had made microwave pizza's for them, but only three were eating. "Worrying isn't going to help."
"I can't help it," Tess muttered. She poked at her pizza with a lazy index finger. "What am I supposed to do, just forget what happened? He's my friend."
"Rajiel's right." Alex gulped down half a glass of soda. "She's always right, remember? Mrs. Wallace said he was doing alright, didn't she? I'm sure Collin's family is taking care of him."
Amber nodded in agreement. "Listen to us, Tess. There's nothing you can do."
"No. No, I have to do something." Tess sighed in exasperation, and leapt to her feet. "I can't just sit here!" she exclaimed. "Collin's in trouble, and—"
"And you're gonna stay put." Alex snagged her wrist and pulled her down once more. "Sit still."
She shook her head fiercely. "But…but—"
Rajiel put her hand firmly on her friend's shoulder. "Tess, stop. Be logical for once; you don't even know what happened to him, let alone how to help."
"Maybe we should find out," the red-headed Amber suggested cheerfully, receiving severe glares from her two friends. "Well, I'm sure there's somewhere we could look. Doesn't your dad have all those old books and stuff? I'm sure we'll find something."
Tess brightened immediately. "Amber, you're right! And the library's still open, isn't it? There's got to be something about Sephiroth and Jenova is those books. Come on!" She hauled all her friends to their feet. "Alex, go with Amber to the library. Rajiel and I will stay here and check dad's stuff. I really appreciate this, guys. Thanks." Without waiting for a reply she dragged Rajiel toward her father's study.
Alex sighed, as he obviously had no options. "Well, I guess we'd better go," he said.
"Yeah. It'll be fun!" Amber took him by the hand and began to lead him out the door. "Let's go!"
Collin…
Collin lifted his head to the voice. He knew it; he liked it. With a gleeful laugh the toddler stood clumsily, and waddled into the small kitchen. She was there, Her beautiful face smiling down at him. Her voice rang sweetly as a small cup of juice was offered. The child held it in tiny, chubby fingers, sipping happily. With eyes that knew only bliss he watched her, questioning whether a cookie or other small treat would accompany his drink. As expected he was given a gram-flavored cracker. His morning complete—as far as he was concerned—he padded into his playroom once more.
Be a good boy, Collin.
He wasn't in the small, comfortable house anymore. He was sitting in an unpadded chair, under the scrutiny of half a dozen neon lights. He tried not to fidget; any disobedience would only invite punishment. He would not give them the satisfaction of his pain.
A cold, fierce hand gripped his arm, and the needle pierced his flesh a moment later. He winced but remained still. By now he was accustomed to such routine tortures.
The dreams continued without transition or sense. One moment Collin remembered running through an open field after butterflies as a child; the next he was stalking through Midgar's streets at night, frightened by the thrill of pleasure as his sword emptied blood into the drains. The contrast dizzied him, causing him to cry out in his sleep in frustration. He watched himself, running into his mother's open arms; so too did he watch his sharpened metal run her through. He closed his eyes as Cloud, worn and weary, entered his room at night; he opened them to face Cloud, young and livid, amid the tomb-like stones of the earth's center.
When he raged and pleaded, the power within him only showed him more images: a pretty brunette woman with glasses in a white lab coat, who then became his adoptive mother, Shera, and then his real mother, The Devoted One. She was walking swiftly away from him, following the sound of a man's anguished voice. Collin toddled after her, curious. He entered his parent's room and found his father in bed, wailing and delirious. "Aeris, Aeris!" he called out again and again, arms outstretched and clawing at empty air in desperation. His mother tried to calm him, entangling her fingers with his, but he struggled free. In his hysteria he unconsciously struck a blow to the side of her head.
Collin bristled angrily. I should have killed him his mind voice snarled, watching without pity as Cloud pulled himself out of the madness and took his wife into his arms. The man was still half drunk on his delusions, whispering Aeris's name over and over as he coddled the brunette.
Aeris. It's all her fault.
Collin watched from afar. When it was obvious that the deed would not be done he sprang into action. With one powerful leap he positioned himself far above the young woman's form. Sword held vertically and cloaks billowing, he plummeted toward her, preparing to end her cumbersome existence.
"Collin, this won't help."
"Shut up!" he screamed at the bodiless voice. "I'm going to kill them both!"
Collin landed, his sword finding sheath within the lower chest of the brown-haired flower-seller. He smiled maliciously, lifting his gaze to meet that of the blond man. Cloud's eyes were wide and shocked, his mouth open, trembling with horror.
That's right. I want you to suffer.
Collin wrenched his sword free, nearly laughing out loud as the pink-clad female dropped lifelessly into her lover's arms. He listened dispassionately to the man's rage-filled, despairing cries. But then suddenly a wash of emerald filled his sight, blinding him from the scene. He scrubbed his eyes, hoping to drive the obstacle away. When his eyesight returned he was met with the same tragedy he'd left; only the players had changed. Cloud had grown and morphed into a burly black man. Collin stared, confused. They were no longer among the shimmering waters and crystalline city structures; sparse grass tickled his bare feet, and the sky above was dark with velvet night.
But Collin still held his blade. Its sickening odor filled him with dread as he beheld his victim; not Aeris, but the beautiful, dark-haired woman whose face had been imprinted in him since birth. Lying in the field, bloodied and pale, his mother lay dead. And he had killed her.
The sun had barely risen when Cassandra and her husband were roused from bed and called into Phoenix Lattice Central. They journeyed quickly to her office, where her assistant had already prepared a pot of coffee. She accepted a cup—Broddick declined.
Also waiting in her office was the man who'd called her: Fenton Selsby, Managing Officer of the five Phoenix Watchtowers. Early on in Rocket City's creation, five towers had been assembled to keep track of the largest monster Clans: Dragon Peak in the Nibel Mountains; Goddess Eye in Wutai; Gravekeeper in the old Midgar mountains; The Loft in the southern islands; and Pinnacle on the northern coast of the west continent, from which the Northern Continent could be monitored. Each reported daily to their mother cities, which in turn reported weekly to the Managing Officer in Rocket City. Any disturbances were relayed to all the globe's cities, in case of another Fallout.
Presently, Selsby's face was grim. "President Matthews, we just received word from Dragon Peak," he reported stiffly. "There are Clan Dragons heading out of the mountains." He flicked on her desk monitor and played a tape that had been preset. It was a view of the Nibel Mountains, lit only by dim stars and half a moon. Amid the jagged crags several dark shadows passed, wings beating.
Cassandra sat back in her chair, her face serious. "How many?"
"Four, President Matthews."
She looked to her husband, who appeared as grave as she. Though four was a small number relative to the size of the clan, it was enough to destroy nearly all of a large city. Especially given their lack of weaponry. "How long?" was Broddick's question.
Selsby's look gave them no reassurance. "At their present speed, we estimate a day and a half. However, if they increase their speed to what they're capable of, it could be a matter of five hours."
"Five hours?" Cassandra repeated. Though she had always been known for her calm, rational—sometimes cold—demeanor, the indications staggered her mentally. In five hours, their city could be destroyed. They were powerless to stop it.
A knock came from the door, and Cassandra called in Nathan Arswick, the leading scientist at Phoenix Lattice. He was a short, squattish man with thinning gray hair and circle-framed glasses. "President Matthews," he greeted briskly. "I came as soon as I heard you were in. I've been in the building all night."
"Working, I hope."
"Oh yes, of course. In fact, I was about to contact you with the good news; the Griffin Clan has settled in the Uptra Valley, south of the mountains. They've ceased their advance." He beamed triumphantly.
"That's not good enough," Broddick grunted, clearly unimpressed. "They probably stopped because they don't want to get tangle with the Dragons."
"Dragons?"
Cassandra quickly filled the scientist in on their situation. "I need answers, and quickly," she told him.
Arswick nodded, fully comprehending the urgency of their position. "I assume you received the results of the Vandalee Investigation?"
"Yes." Though she would never admit it, Vincent had been right; there was a reactor in Vandalee. One of Scarlet's followers had survived the Fallout and afterwards, and managed to build a reactor the size of a small home on the town's outskirts. The threat was gone now—what remained of the man's body had been discovered and his reactor destroyed—but of greater interest was in how the Griffin's had responded so quickly. A reactor that size would not have been enough to alert the entire Clan in so short a time, meaning that they had been led by something other than the Earth itself.
"I was informed that Cloud Strife was at the performance last night," Arswick went on. "Before he was here, he was living in Cosmo Canyon—so the elders tell me."
"Vandalee is just between that and here," Broddick said darkly. "He led the Griffins."
The elder man raised a hand. "Perhaps not intentionally. The Clan followed threats to the planet—they were following Jenova."
The president and her husband exchanged glances. "Cloud Strife has Jenova?" the former echoed.
"It's more than likely," Arswick replied with a shrug. "And it's obvious that the Dragon's have reacted to that boy's Jenova, since his experience."
Selsby crossed his arms thoughtfully. "So if we took out Strife and the boy, the Dragon's would leave?"
"Theoretically."
"That's not an option," Cassandra snapped. "I don't care about Strife, but Highwind has been a valued member of our Council for years. I can't kill his son outright."
Broddick considered this. "Is that wise?"
"Arswick, is there any way to remove Jenova?"
The scientist's faces scrunched, indicating the negative. "Years ago, my answer would be 'no.'" He brightened. "But we've advanced since then. It might be possible. We could attempt to remove it surgically, kill it with biological toxins, or maybe reduce it with hormones—it does seem to be 'triggered' by emotions."
"And if those don't work?" asked Broddick in a low tone.
"Then hibernation is an option. If we put the boy into a coma, I doubt he'd be able to do any harm."
Cassandra nodded, satisfied with the diversity of her options. "Good. Thank you, Professor Arswick." She turned to the other officer. "Mr. Selsby, you're dismissed. Please relate your news to the other cities." He nodded and left, and the dialed her secretary. "Sally, this is Cassandra. I'm calling a Council Meeting. Please contact everyone other than Cid Highwind. It'll be in one hour."
"Yes, ma'am."
"You're proceeding without him?" Broddick questioned. Though his tone was serious, she knew he approved.
"Yes. His judgement in this matter will be impaired. I will go to see them as soon as the Council has reached a decision." Cassandra stood from her desk and began to prepare for the meeting.
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