1-6. Duskdreaming

It was nearing sunset when Lucrecia left the inn. It had been a spectacularly dull day--she'd spent it reading and tending to the greenhouse--so she was jumpy from too-long inactivity as well as from nervousness.

Ten minutes ago, she'd been curled up in a chair at the table in her room, one foot tucked under her, the other propped up against the leg of the chair, oblivious to the world. She was six chapters into a history of the Cetra, written several years ago by one of the last recognized Cetra scholars; it was strange, fascinating reading. She'd never realized how...human they really were... A soft knock on the door startled her out of her thoughts. She marked her place in the book with an index card and got up to answer the door, carrying the book with her, hardly wondering who might be there.

Vincent was there, leaning a little with his hand on the doorframe, still in his dark-blue uniform. Lucrecia was too shocked to speak for a moment. "Vincent! Back already?"

"Yes. But only for tonight. Can I see you? Anything, really--walk around the village, maybe, before it gets too dark?"

"Of course. Are you all right? You sound...tired." He looked exhausted, as well, and something else, something harder to define. Persecuted? And distracted, she thought. Distracted by what?

"I'm fine," he said dismissively. "Are you coming?"

"Sure... just let me get changed, I'll only be a minute."

"You look fine...but all right. Meet me at the well."

"Lucrecia!"

A voice startled her out of her thoughts. She looked up and realized she'd almost passed by Vincent; he was standing in the shadow of the well tower, leaning against the wooden scaffolding. He stepped away from it to greet her. "Sorry, I was..." reliving every second of your presence like a lovesick nitwit, she thought. "...just daydreaming."

Vincent glanced at the dimming sky. "It's almost night," he said, a trace of a smile haunting his face. "Early-evening-dreaming?"

"Duskdreaming?" Lucrecia suggested.

"Yes. I like that. Duskdreaming..." Vincent smiled to himself for a moment, then waved toward the square. "Shall we go?"

Lucrecia nodded, and as she started to walk, Vincent followed at her side. They walked slowly through the square, which was still busy by Nibelheim standards; workers crossed through it on their way to their homes or the pub. Many of the townspeople shot suspicious glances at Vincent's Turk uniform, but no one spoke to them. As they neared the edge of the village center, the roads emptied, and Lucrecia relaxed a bit. She couldn't stand some of those people sometimes, with their attitude...what had Shinra ever done to hurt them? To take her mind off the subject, she looked over at Vincent; he was walking with his hands in his pockets, looking thoughtfully toward the ground. He noticed her watching him and glanced up.

"Why didn't you change?" she asked. "That suit can't be comfortable."

Vincent shrugged. "It doesn't bother me. And I didn't really have the time."

"You had the time to go for a walk, didn't you?"

"The walk was what I came back for," he replied quietly, evenly.

Lucrecia was too stunned to reply. Is that all...? Why did he... But that's not enough to...They were sent all the way to Corel! That's not important enough to come back, just for-- She stumbled, unaware of the ground under her feet. Vincent caught her, steadied her, and they both stopped in the middle of the road. "I'm fine, I'm all right, sorry," she mumbled, wishing it were a bit darker so that he would not see her face flushing. He hadn't let her go yet. He was holding her upper arms, lightly, and looking into her face--studying her, she thought. She couldn't resist looking back. His expression was thoughtful but guarded, almost cold. Something had to be wrong...

Vincent released her, slowly, letting his hands slip almost accidentally down her arms. Lucrecia closed her eyes for a moment. This can't be happening. "Thank you," she said.

"You're welcome," he answered, and looked away, toward the side of the road. They were walking past the grounds of the Mansion, a huge, parklike swath of land that lay between the edge of the town and the beginning of the mountains. A shoulder-high brick wall separated the grounds from the town's land. Vincent looked over the wall at the Mansion grounds, then back at Lucrecia. "Would you like to go in?"

"No--well, it looks nice, but we passed the gate so long ago. It's not worth backtracking."

"Who said we had to use the gate?" Vincent placed his hands on the top of the wall and swiftly pulled himself to the top of it, perching in a half-crouch on the edge. He offered a hand back down to Lucrecia. "Come on, I won't let you fall."

Lucrecia took his hand, though, she thought, it would probably be easier if she had full use of both her hands... it was the thought that counted, anyway. She grabbed on to the edge of the wall and hoisted herself up, pushing against the wall with her feet and allowing Vincent to balance her. She was at the top almost as easily as he had been, only a little winded. She smiled at him, noticing his mild shock.

"You didn't climb trees in your childhood, did you?..."

"How could I? No, I was a slum kid; we climbed fences." She let go of his hand and jumped down to the grass; Vincent landed beside her. "Though I'm probably worse at it than most. I spent more time inside than they did." She started walking, and Vincent walked again at her side. The ground was softer here, grassy, and no voices from the village reached them. The sun was setting behind the mountains, staining the sky orange and pink, throwing long shadows at the bases of the trees. Lucrecia breathed in deeply. She hadn't been out in the fresh air like this for a long time... Glancing up at a tree as they passed by, she remarked, "Green oak."

Vincent looked up. "These?" She nodded. "Is that their real name? Why are they called green oaks?"

"That's their name, yeah. They're called green because the acorns are dark green when they're ripe. Most kinds are brown."

"Really." He looked up at the trees as he walked, and that ghost of a smile returned. "So although you didn't climb trees, you knew all about them?"

"In a way. I read about all kinds of plants, trees among them. I just didn't get to see them very often in the flesh. Um, in the wood. --You know what I mean."

"Yes." Vincent looked up into the leaves, just starting to turn brown for the coming fall. "Are there any other interesting surprises about you, Miss Gainsborough?"

"Interesting? Oh, I don't think that's interesting..." She didn't even think to correct him about the name, realizing he was kidding her a little--at least about that part. "I mean, I don't really do anything. I just know about plants, that's all."

"And cells," he added, "and Ancients..."

"Ancients?"

"You were reading a History of the Cetra when you came to the door," he explained.

Lucrecia blinked. "You noticed that?"

"Yes," he replied calmly.

"Oh," she said, stupidly, not quite sure what to say. "Well...thank you, I guess."

"For what?"

"For the..." compliment. For the polite and lovely lie. "...for thinking I'm interesting."

"You're welcome. Thank you for telling me about it."

"Oh..." She felt her cheeks warming again, faintly. "It's quite all right." She swallowed, thinking of something else to talk about. "I'm sure you know many more interesting things than I do, though."

He looked at her, though she could not read his face in the shadows of the trees. "I don't think so. The kinds of things I know are not what you'd want to hear about."

"I don't think so," she insisted. "You have to be interested in something I'd like to hear about...what do you like, Vincent?"

He thought for a minute, as they walked. "Books," he said.

"That's interesting."

"Can be," he admitted. "Is that surprising? For a Turk to be interested in books?"

"Not if it's you," she answered truthfully. "What do you like to read?"

He was quiet for a moment. "A bit of everything," he answered. "Philosophy, theories on life and what it means to be good. Poetry. Novels, if they're not too brainless. History, actually, now that I think about it..."

"I should be done with that Ancients' history in a week or two. You can borrow it if you like."

"I think I would," he said. "Thank you."

Lucrecia watched him, as they passed out of a tree's shadow and into the fading light; he was smiling a bit to himself again, though his eyes were still overcast with some pain, some trouble. "Books are interesting... what else do you like?"

He considered her question. "I like classical music, I used to love going to the symphony... though I haven't heard an orchestra in so long, because of this job."

"Why don't we go, then?" The question was out before she had a chance to stop herself.

Vincent seemed not to have noticed. "There isn't a decent orchestra between here and Junon."

"Oh... well, there's a concert hall not far from here. Do they ever play there?"

"I'd forgotten about that. Yes, they might." He looked over at her, questioning. "You'd really like to go with me?"

Lucrecia nodded, unable to speak for a moment. "I would."

"Good..." His voice trailed off, and came back near a whisper. "I would like that. Thank you."

"The pleasure's mine," she replied. "I'll see what I can find out. We'll just have to take some time off."

Vincent nodded. "It's difficult. I'll find a way."

Just for that?... "Good." He sounded so tired, suddenly, as soon as she'd mentioned work... "Would you like to stop and rest for a while?"

He shrugged. "I wouldn't mind, if you'd like to."

"All right..." She looked around the area; there was another large tree not far away. "How about under that tree?" Vincent looked, and nodded. They headed for the tree, slowly. Lucrecia hoped she could get him to talk a little more once they stopped to rest, maybe tell her what was troubling him...though she didn't expect very much, it was worth trying.

They reached the tree; its shade blocked out some of the moonlight and the last fading glow of the sun, but Lucrecia could still see well enough. She sat on the grass under it, while Vincent lay on his back, staring up into the leaves.

"Mountain maple," Lucrecia observed. Vincent barely smiled. "You do look tired," she said. "Are you all right?"

His only answer was, "I suppose so."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Work."

"You don't want to tell me?"

"You don't want to know."

"You can tell me about it, you know," she said softly. "You can trust me."

"It's not that."

"I don't mind hearing about it, either, if that's what you're worried about."

He looked up at her, and in his eyes she glimpsed the same cold she'd seen in the bar. Dangerous...maybe. But not to me, I don't believe it... "Do you realize what my job can entail?"

"Yes. The company doesn't admit it, but everyone knows it. Everyone from Midgar, at least."

"What do they know?" he asked, and she could hear the constructed chill in his voice.

Lucrecia took a deep breath. She wasn't sure why he wanted her to say it--to prove she knew? To punish himself? Both? "We know that if you have to, you'll kill people." Her voice was calm, nonjudgmental; it was a statement of fact, no more. Vincent looked away. "It's something you come to accept, I guess."

Lucrecia went on, quietly. "Do you know what my job can entail? A lot of the Research Department isn't open to the public, either. Some of the labs have live animals in cages, in tanks, cut apart and sewed up, hooked up to wires... People say Hojo has been accused of experimenting on humans, though no one can prove it. Urban Development helped to build Midgar by crushing the people of the slums. There isn't a department in this company without blood on its hands, Vincent. That's the way the machine is made. It's why we're where we are, why we can live the way we live. It's something you come to accept."

Vincent did not respond for a long time; Lucrecia did not watch him, half-afraid of seeing the hurt gathering in his narrow face. Finally, he turned onto his side, with his back to her. His voice was faint, but she heard it. "You could never kill anyone."

The silence dropped around them. Lucrecia realized what he meant: he had killed someone. Today, on assignment in Corel. On assignment, she thought. Killing as assigned. Is that what this company does to us, makes us into obedient machines, something programmable--makes us into killing machines? But she knew he had not been programmed, this young Turk; he was killing himself in return for what he'd done, even now. They had trained him well enough to kill, but he had remained human...

Lucrecia moved a little closer to him on the grass and laid her hand on his arm. She wished she could see his face. "I forgive you," she said softly.

Vincent turned over suddenly and looked up at her. There was a trace of disbelief in his eyes, but it was overshadowed by something else, many other things--grief, wonder... Fascination again? No...something else now... But it can't be...

It is.

He took her hand in his and held it, for a long time, without a word.

"Thank you," he said finally.

"You're welcome," she replied.