...tendencies. (a story about obsession)
10: Dawn of the Wallflowers
...
"I...I..." Aeris stared at her own hand on the handle of the gun
that was pointed towards Cloud's head. A single droplet of sweat oozed down his
scalp, leaking down the barrel of the gun, moist and tense.
"Aeris..." Cloud's voice ventured, drawn out and slow. Disbelieving.
"What're you doing..."
My girl, my girl, don't lie to me...
tell me where did you sleep last night....
She did not know.
"I..." she tried to say, but she did not know who she referred to when
she said that "I". Green eyes flicked to brown and they were full of
confusion. Flicked to red and they were full of sad knowledge. Flicked to blue
and they were a fatal error screen and they cried for her. Aeris saw her own
hand struggling not to kill the one person in the whole world who loved her,
then she let out a little sigh of a cry, as if struck. She dropped the gun, and
fled out the door.
***********
In the resulting silence, Vincent said, "You have to kill her."
And Cloud said, "No." Then he said, "No, no, no, what the hell
are you talking about Vincent, you're insane, you're crazy. Stop messing with my
f*cking head!!!"
And Tifa just hung her head down low and said nothing. Vincent had explained to
her his reasoning. She, living in the land of the informed, still wavered on the
border of indecision.
"You have to kill her," said Vincent very calmly and methodically.
"Or else she will kill us all and many more. She is the perpetrator of the
plague of death that has visited upon this city. You have to kill her or she will
murder innocent after innocent after innocent until you do. The blood will all
be on your hands, Cloud, so you must do your duty. The job must be done. The
book must be closed." His red eyes narrowed. "Do not shirk your
responsibilities. It is the hero's duty to undertake the painful and
unwanted."
"I can't..." said Cloud, in a tight whisper.
"You can," said Vincent.
"I won't..." said Cloud, louder.
"But you must," said Vincent.
"You don't understand, you bastard, you don't understand!" shouted
Cloud, his eyes shut, his fists clenched, his blood boiling.
"I don't understand..." Vincent laughed. Not bitterly. The peals of
laughter seemed almost...merry. "I don't understand,"
Vincent repeated, giggling. "I...I don't understand... ahaha...aha..."
He laughed and he laughed and he laughed and then he put his head in his hands
and when he looked up he was crying.
Tifa's hand flew to her mouth. "Vin...Vincent, what's wr-
What...?" Her amber eyes radiated confusion as her friend's body buckled
and folded in half and contorted to form the shadow of a man.
Vincent sobbed, he howled, he cried, and he let out years and years, rivers
and streams and oceans of pain, sweeping, pulsing, splashing waves of pain. And
awash in this bloody sea, Cloud strained backwards from Vincent's clawing hands,
his clinging arms, his once-dignified arms wrapped around Cloud's legs as if he
were to be swept out to hell if he didn't hold on tight. Cloud fell backwards,
revulsed, fearful, and Vincent spoke, Vincent spoke in a voice that Cloud didn't
recognize: a voice that was not Vincent the monster, Vincent the strong and
silent, Vincent the reserved and composed. This was Vincent before the gunshot,
Vincent Valentine the Turk, the man, the soul behind the image. This soul was
hurting. This soul's pale underused lips fell open and let a story of dark ruin
fall from his mouth all atumble. And Cloud gaped.
"I don't understand? You think I don't understand, Cloud? Do you know
who you are talking to, Cloud? Do you think I didn't try everything in my power
to get her back? Everything I could to revive her, just to see her once more? To
touch her once more? I did, Cloud, I did! I tried everything. I have cried out a
million years with every cell in my body for Lucrecia. I have searched every
haunted disheveled path of hell to look for a way back to her. You think I never
walked down yours, Cloud? You think you're so damn special?
I've seen that materia. It's purple, isn't it, Cloud. Purple with disgusting
spiderweb patterns across it? Oh yes, I've seen it. I've felt it. I've even
cast with it. No, don't look at me like that, I'm not lying. I have. I cast with
that damned gnarled materia, the Monkey's Paw materia, some call it. Monkey's
Paw because...it's gnarled like... "
Cloud's rotted hand tensed underneath the black leather glove.
"How the f*ck do you think my hand got the way it did, Cloud? You think Hojo put this claw on me? You think I wanted it there? You think I was born like this? I had to have this claw put in when that demon's spawn materia took my hand. Yes, it bleeds a little first, then it just withers...it wrinkles and turns into the mummified remnants of a corpse's hand. A revival doesn't just create life... it takes life. To cast, it takes life from your hand. And to continue...it takes life from others. Through...its subject."
Cloud's eyes widened to frightening proportions, the blue threatening to leak out in panic. "No...no, it's not true..."
"You know what I mean, don't you Cloud? Its subject. Lucrecia did the same thing. She killed a town full of people when I brought her back. I had no idea for the longest time- she was..." Vincent choked. "She was my 'Crecia, my baby, my darling. She could never kill anyth-" His eyes bled tears. "She could never hurt a fly and here she was, hacking away at everything she could get to. Children and puppies and mothers and..."
Cloud shook his head, dazed.
"...and it was all my fault. I had brought her back. I had made her the monster. Created another Sephiroth. I had forced her to be a murderer and tainted her lovely, lovely name. Lucrecia said that Jenova wouldn't let her rest. She had it all wrong. It was me that wouldn't let her rest." He looked up. "You didn't bring back your love, you brought back the skeleton shadow of your love with something dark and hideous inside."
Cloud continued shaking his head, for that was all he could do. He couldn't move. Speak. Every muscle in his body was sealed together and stuck to the ground. "Cloud?" Tifa's soft voice, worried, permeated through the terrible ringing in his ears. "Cloud?" Her hands were on his chest, comforting.
"NO!" he screamed. "NO! IT'S NOT TRUE! IT'S A LIE! IT CAN'T BE TRUE!" he screamed, and he shoved Tifa, hard, away from him, throwing her body against a wall with a dull thump. Then, leaving her unconscious body lying there, he ran away, frenetically, tearing at his own hair with his own withered hand.
"IT'S A LIE! IT'S A LIE! IT'S A LIEEEEEEE!"
The halls echoed, the sound of pain repeating and repeating and repeating.
And on the ground, in a puddle of someone else's tears, the Vincent of the present blinked blindly and sadly at nothing in particular, and said, "I knew it would happen again."
*
"I believe you," came the hushed, soft voice beside Vincent, an arm
about his shoulders, silken hair brushing his face. "I believe you, and I'm
sorry."
Vincent looked up at Tifa and smiled sadly. "Thank you," he said.
"And now...what route do you walk?"
"The one I always walk," she said quietly, looking down at the floor
and wringing her hands. "I'm going to go after him. Follow him." She
looked up into his eyes. "I love him. No matter what he does to me, I love
him. I can't do anything else. You understand?"
He did.
"And you?" she asked. "What route do you walk?" she copied
his words.
"The one I always walk," he said, blind eyes staring off into nothing.
"I walk alone."
She nodded knowingly, pulled him to her in one last emphatic embrace, and
pressed Death Penalty firmly into his hands. Then, Tifa stood up and walked to
the weapons room, pulling out daggers and tape and gloves to arm herself. While
wrapping the white tape firmly about her knuckles, she heard scuffles in the
hall.
"Leaving without saying goodbye?" she said, without looking up from
her preparations.
"Our routes will cross again," he said simply, and Tifa returned to
strapping on her gloves, knowing full well that when she looked up, Vincent
would be gone.
Cloud ran blindly, tears streaking his pained face-
Aeris ran blindly, tears streaking her terrified face-
His feet did not obey her bidding, locked and stiff with the shackles of guilt
and denial-
Her feet did not obey her bidding, locked and stiff with the shackles of
confusion and horror at self-discovery-
He fell.
She fell.
At the entrance to the maze that began the City of the Ancients, he stumbled and
scraped his knee, and like a child, began to cry-
At the entrance to the cave that housed her beloved lake, she stumbled and fell
to her knees, and out of habit, began to pray-
In amazement, he found that there was someone to catch him, warm arms
surrounding him and holding him to her chest, rocking him. He had never felt so
safe, so needed, so warm-
In pain, she found that for once there was no one to catch her, no warm fingers
of her ancestors brushing her, comforting her, whispering to her in cooing, low
voices likes the soft washing waves-
He was slowly helped to his feet by loving hands; standing, he raised his head
and saw the ever-loyal amber eyes of Tifa shining into his own-
She heard footsteps behind her, and, nobody to help her to her feet, she stood
up alone, by herself. Standing, she turned and saw the crimson eyes of Vincent
staring blindly in her direction-
"What are you doing here?" he asked, head on her shoulder, arms woven
about her body-
"What are you doing here?" she asked her innocent waif's voice-
"I came to find you," she replied simply and affectionately. "I
had to find you."-
"I've come to find you," he said to her, stern and cold. "I've
come to finish the job. I've come to put an end to you."-
"I'm sorry," he was suddenly sobbing. "I'm so sorry for what I've
done, I should've listened to you, you were right, I love you, you're all that
matters, I'm sorry, Tifa, I'm sorry..."-
"What have I done?" she was suddenly sobbing. "Who am I? Did I
kill all those people in Midgar? Am I murderer? Why am I even here? Did I do
something wrong? I'm so very sorry..."-
"No..." she murmured into his ear. "It's alright, Cloud. That's
all in the past now. I forgive you. I understand. "I'm here to help you
undo it all."-
"No," Vincent rumbled. "You've done nothing wrong. But you should
not be here, and I'm here to help you go home."-
She smiled at him, and he couldn't help but smile back, couldn't help but take
her head in his hands and kiss her. He straightened and took her in his arms,
clasped her tight for just one unreleasable moment-
She smiled waveringly at him, and he couldn't help but smile back (for he could
feel her warmth pulse through the room), and he walked, blindly, hesitantly
towards her-
They walked hand and hand towards the entrance to the cave and did not, could
not see what was going to happen within-
He walked, Death Penalty in hand, and blind-eyed, did not, could not see the blade that
Aeris held in her hand-
... An otherworldly presence clouding her consciousness, neither could she-
My girl, my girl, don't lie to me...
Tell me where did you...
Kill.
last night...
Nobody, not even Aeris herself, saw the flower girl raise a blade, thin and
scythe like, over her head and thrust it into the back of Vincent.
Nobody, not even Aeris, saw the blade pierce through bone and flesh to appear on
the other side.
Nobody could see the event to notice the irony of the repeated incident as
Vincent was stabbed, and he fell to his knees in a pool of his own blood.
Nobody saw her do this...
But every one of them felt it
(Authors note: apologies for the messiness)
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