By Tini and Clara
Pt 1: Tini
Vincent stood frozen, his bare toes curled in the grass. The sweet Wutai wind blew about him and through the cherry blossom trees. Numb and staring at the sun, he felt a pair of familiar hands grip his hipbones, pull him back into an embrace. Tseng stood behind him in kimono, whereas Vincent felt more comfortable in the plain black training gi. Tseng's naked feet brushed Vincent's heels, his lips nuzzled his ear.
"Angel. It's bad for your eyes."
Vincent stared off silently for a few moments, turning his head to see Tseng. "Pardon?"
"Looking into the sun. It's bad for your eyes." Tseng brushed a strand of hair from Vincent's forehead.
Vincent had gone dormant again, the touch melting into merely a shadow, like so many others in the sunset. "What is, raven?"
Tseng half-chuckled. "The sun, Vincent, looking into it is bad. Are you even listening to me?"
"Yes, of course," Vincent said placidly, resting his cheek against Tseng's. "Why have you come to see me?"
Tseng stole a quick kiss. "I was feeling amorous. We're newlyweds, after all, this is how we're supposed to act." He grinned. "I'm sorry I wasn't around earlier, I had tea with Godo and we got to talking."
"How?" Vincent raised an eyebrow. "How long were you gone?"
"Hours, Vincent, are you feeling alright?"
"Of course," he affirmed, his eyes back at the falling sunshine. He felt another soft kiss on his cheek.
"I'm going inside, angel." Tseng's voice was low. "Come see me later? We'll have dinner." Tseng received a distracted nod. "Very well then."
Vincent was alone. Alone, he thought with a mixture of regret and glee. The wind shifted violently, tearing blossoms from the trees and depositing them around the glade. It's snowing petals. They blanketed the grass with a layer of pale pink as Vincent stepped forward, surrounding himself with the flower bits. Neglected and liberated pistils and stamens flew about in the garden cocktail of wind and cherry blossoms and sunset.
I'm not alone, something reminded him in the midst of the storm, something murkily intangible. You've forgotten your demons again, Vincent. We cannot leave you. We cannot and we will not. Never. Ever. Never ever. Neverever.
Vincent whirled to watch his own back, but felt the sour dark breath again upon his shoulderblades. Again he spun to face, and it hid behind. Again. Again.
Until he fell down, and when he lay on his back it was in the ground, when he rolled to his stomach it was in the sky. But he could fight it from the sky, he told himself, so he pressed his face into the petal-covered ground. He dreamed his Chaos wings came up to shield him, and with eyes shut he tasted chlorophyll and perfume and mud.
He panted heavily, sucking the butterfly wing silken bits into his lungs, clearing a tiny green spot. Hacking, he felt them rot inside of him, swell and take up space and mutate into the acrid, swamp-coloured demon.
Refuse him and turn away all you want, Vincent, we will never leave you. We love it here. You are warm and evil, and thus make for a filthy utopia.
Stop it. Stop it. Vincent screamed, slamming his face into the grass and tasting blood. And Tseng, who hadn't gone inside at all, dashed out and found him that way, unconscious and with cherry blossom petals in his mouth.
* * *
Tseng gripped Vincent's hand, watching him as his head lolled and rolled on the pillow. His eyes remained eerily open, his mind half submerged between insanity and consciousness. Sometimes he murmured, or whispered strange things to the monsters in his head, away from Tseng.
Tseng tried to play nurse as best he could, or as best as Vincent would allow. He didn't perform the common doctor actions, taking temperatures and wiping with wet cloths. His were lover's actions, bringing cups of tea in case Vincent suddenly wanted them, played Vincent's favorite music on the stereo to make him feel comfortable. Held his hand, because even if it didn't comfort Vincent, it comforted Tseng.
Vincent turned to Tseng and spoke, the haze of psychosis still in his eyes, but gone from his consciousness. "In the book of Exodus, the land of Canaan is said to flow with milk and honey. Where is my Canaan? My milk and honey are gobbled up by demons, and none is left for me..."
Tseng kissed Vincent's hand as the doorbell rang. "Stay here, angel."
Vincent's eyes drifted towards the door. "Yes."
The visitor turned out to be Reno, whom Tseng had called for earlier. "Tseng, man, I came soon as I could. 'Lena's on her way and Rude and Yuff have to finish up some piddling-crap in Corel, but they'll be here soon, too."
"Thank you," Tseng murmured, preoccupied. "Vincent's speaking now, but taking what he's saying into account, I don't think he's all that much better."
"I think he'll be fine, Tseng. He's had a hard life, we all go to the zoo sometimes, you know?" Reno laid a hand on his former sensei's shoulder.
Tseng nodded and stepped into Vincent's room. The bed was empty, and Vincent was gone. A sheet of paper lay on the bed.
Written on it in the ashes from incense were the words: Gone to reclaim my milk and honey ~ V
* * *