2-3. Night's Calm

Lucrecia fled up the stairs and unlocked the door of her room at the Nibelheim inn, her freezing hands feeling clumsy and cold around the key. She left the door open, running across the room to the window that overlooked the town square. Lucrecia flung the window open and leaned out into the icy night to pull the shutters tightly shut. She latched the shutters, closed the window and locked it as well, and turned back to the dark room, still shivering. The warm yellowish light of the table lamp flooded the room. Vincent stood by the table, watching her.

"Did you lock the door?" Her voice was steadying now, as well.

"Yes."

"Thank you." She took off the half-shredded cloak and tossed it on the bed. Vincent rushed toward her, impulsively, and hugged her tight. Lucrecia held on to him, reassuring herself that he was truly safe, and breathed deeply for the first time in what seemed like years. Her shivering gradually stilled, as the warmth of the room soaked into her skin and Vincent's presence calmed her. The threat of any harm seemed distant now; Vincent would not let it reach her. I never thought I'd like that…strange how things turn out, I suppose. I don't need it, but…I like it. This man would risk his life to protect me…what did I do to deserve something so unbelievable?

Don't think about that, not now…just be grateful for it.

"Thank you," she said, unsure of what to say.

Vincent nodded. "You're more than welcome, of course."

Though she was beginning to feel safe here, with him, the night still reeled through her mind in a blur. She couldn't shake the sights: her first stunning vision of Vincent in his black suit, the swoop of the dancers across the shining floor, the shattered fragments of the chandelier raining on the ballroom, Hojo's drunken vigil behind the bar…

Hojo. Next door. Right behind the wall…

"I have a favor to ask you," she said.

"Anything," he replied.

"Tonight, after what happened, please…" Her voice faded to an embarrassed whisper. "Don't leave me alone."

Vincent's breath caught in his throat for an instant. "Of course…I…don't want to be alone, either." He let her go and turned away, pinning his right hand under his left arm in a gesture that was beginning to become familiar. Lucrecia followed him, put her arms around his shoulders from behind.

"It's all right," she said quietly. "Don't be ashamed. I know how you feel. I've always been alone, too…"

Vincent's head dropped, and from the faint tightening of his muscles she wondered whether he fought back tears. "But you didn't earn it," he said, without explanation. "You're sure you won't mind my staying?"

Lucrecia smiled. "Mind? I won't let you leave." She rose up on her toes to kiss his cheek and then slipped away. Vincent turned to look at her; the worry in his eyes was fading. Lucrecia took a seat at the table and slipped off her narrow shoes. Vincent slowly took the other seat at the table and watched her silently. She unlatched the delicate necklace and let it slither from her hand into a small gold puddle on the tabletop, then took the tiny crystal earrings from her ears. She pulled the jeweled pins from her hair, letting it fall in a mass around her shoulders, and noticed that Vincent was watching her. She smiled with a trace of mischief and jabbed the pins toward him in the air, like a dart-thrower taking aim. "And just what are you looking at, may I ask?"

Vincent finally let a smile steal onto his face. "Nothing…just wondering how the most beautiful woman in Shinra can manage to look even lovelier without all of that…" His fingers sifted through the fine chain on the table. "…glitter."

"Hmph." She set the pins down next to the other bits of jewelry and leaned back in her chair. "I don't know about most beautiful, but you'd be amazed at the power of comfortable clothes."

Vincent's amused gaze flicked over her deep red gown. "You weren't comfortable?"

"Well, this is all right…" She brushed at the skirt of the gown, feeling the strange roughness of the velvet against her fingers. "A little cold, that's all. But those shoes were killing me." She looked up at him, still in full formal dress. "What, none of your clothes are uncomfortable? You're lucky."

Vincent shrugged. "I'm used to most of it."

"You can get comfortable, you know. Nobody's watching."

He looked down at the table, though his smile deepened a shade. "You are."

"Oh, don't be silly," she mock-scolded, getting up from her chair to kneel by his. "Or actually, do be silly. Here." Lucrecia yanked his feet out from under him and pulled his dress shoes off, tossing them under the table. She tried not to think what they might be splattered with. She stood beside him, resting her hand on his left shoulder; she could barely feel the strap under his jacket. "And you have to lose the holster. The jacket and tie, too."

He chuckled. "Anything else?"

"No, that should do it," she answered breezily. "It's a bit early to strip you naked, don't you think?" They both laughed, a bit uneasily. And not without reason, Lucrecia thought. In the five months they'd known each other, they'd never spent the night together. Though she'd asked for—and wanted—only companionship tonight, protection from the horrors of the past, it still called up some unsettling questions. But there was time enough to worry about that later…

Lucrecia took her seat again and stretched her legs out under the table as Vincent self-consciously took off his tie, jacket, and pistol holster. He hung them neatly on the back of his chair, then stretched his arms over his head for a moment. "Happy?"

Lucrecia smiled. "Very nice. Now don't you feel better?"

"I suppose so," he admitted. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Lucrecia thought again of his shoes, and what she'd seen on the floor of the ballroom. No matter how often she tried to divert it, her gaze was drawn to the shoulder holster that hung from the corner of his chair. May as well dive in now; we can't avoid it forever… She sighed, nervously rolling the hairpins between her fingers. "I wanted to ask you some things."

Vincent looked down at his folded hands. "All right," he said calmly.

"Whew, where to start? Well…what…happened tonight?"

"You mean with the demonstrators from Corel."

"Yes."

Vincent nodded. "Actually, I correct myself. I think some were from Wutai as well." He thought for a moment. "You remember that night I came back from my assignment in Corel, and we took a walk in the Mansion grounds."

"Of course."

"I almost got fired for that," he said absently. "But that's past now… That assignment involved three Turks, two from the JENOVA Project group and one from Midgar." His voice was calm as he went on, as if he were reading from a Shinra file. "We were sent to stop a demonstration against the proposal for a new Mako reactor in the mountains near Corel. We were ordered originally just as an intimidation tactic—to show up and look menacing, more or less. But something went wrong; a fight broke out, and three demonstrators were k—" Vincent swallowed, and the dead tone left his voice. He would not look at Lucrecia as he spoke. "Saunders, the Turk leader from Midgar, beat one of them to death on the spot; one died from injuries later that day; I shot the third from fifty yards away." He took a deep breath. "Shinra chastised us for not carrying out our orders correctly, but the unofficial word was that it stopped all talks of a reactor in Corel for at least fifteen more years—and that was why our mission was seen as a failure."

Typical Shinra viewpoint… "So tonight…that was all revenge for what happened then?"

"Partly. There's a lot of people who hold a great deal of resentment against the Corporation, to begin with. I think it was also seizing a perfect opportunity. They had a good percentage of the enemy penned up in a room with only one exit, unarmed, and for the most part, unsuspecting. The Turks were put on alert, but that's not much when it comes down to it. The company in general was never told a word about any of it. We're lucky that the demonstrators mainly wanted to make a point and chase the Shinra out, not kill us. Otherwise, not that many would have gotten out alive."

Lucrecia remembered the man in the waiter's uniform who had shot her cloak from her hands but left her unharmed. "I see." She went over Vincent's troubling explanation. His last sentence snagged in her mind: not that many would have gotten out alive. "Would you mind if I made a phone call? I want to make sure my sister and her fiancee are safe."

"Oh, of course. I don't mind at all."

"Thanks." Lucrecia got up from the table reluctantly, her limbs beginning to feel heavy with fatigue. She went to the telephone on the shelf by the window and dialed to the front desk with shaking fingers. The clerk informed her that Dr. Gast and Mr. and Mrs. Logan (the sheer audacity of that girl! Lucrecia thought) had all passed through some time before she had; Dr. Gast had apparently left his phone off the hook, and the Logans had requested not to be disturbed for any reason until morning. Lucrecia thanked him and left a message for both rooms, saying that she and Vincent were safe. She reported to Vincent what she'd heard, and he was suitably relieved.

The news chased away the last lingering doubt; Lucrecia returned to the table with a lighter weight around her heart. Remembering Elmyra's dancing lessons, Vincent and Lucrecia spoke about the party itself, the glorious spectacle that it was at the beginning. They discussed the music that had been played and the spirit of the crowd. They both found it interesting that the event was so expensive, yet the heirarchy of the company—usually so rigid, from the President down to the errand-runners, guards, and factory workers—seemed to be dissolved. Vincent thought it sounded like an archetypical carnival, a temporary, tension-releasing reversal of the royal state. As an example, he spoke of a week-long annual festival in Wutai that let the maids run the houses and the landowners cook the banquets, and all of the townspeople, in one crowd, watched races as the runners let young chocobos perch on their shoulders. Lucrecia giggled at the thought of it, but she agreed with his insight: where else but at an event like this could a respectable research assistant dance with a Turk without drawing odd glances, or a slum-dwelling guardsman's fiancee hold discussions with the chairman of the entire Research department?

In the warm yellow circle where the lamplight was strongest, sitting across the table from Vincent as they talked well into the night, Lucrecia put aside the horrors of the evening. They would still remain, a disturbing memory, but for the moment all was well in the world. She sensed a similar relaxation in Vincent, though not as complete; he seemed less closed as time went on, less haunted. He looked almost happy.

Lucrecia realized how late it was only when her head started to swim from exhaustion. She wanted nothing more than to take a hot bath and crawl into bed, but Vincent…

Vincent was watching her with a faintly worried expression. "You look tired," he said. "Maybe you should get some sleep." Lucrecia nodded silently, not sure of what to say. "If you want me to stay…" He looked around, and his voice dropped as he continued. "I can sleep on the floor if you like, or here at the table; it doesn't matter to me."

"No, that's all right," Lucrecia replied, feeling suddenly weak—relief? For what? Though I think I mostly just want him to stay, so neither of us has to be alone… "You can sleep wherever you want." I can't believe I just said that. What am I thinking? She swallowed and sifted the gold chain through her fingers again. "Um, I'll be right back." She got up—feeling dizzy for a moment when she stood—and crossed to the wardrobe. She quickly sorted out something to sleep in, bundled it under her arm, and fled to the tiny bathroom at the back of the room, her cheeks blazing.

When the door was shut behind her, Lucrecia relaxed a little. She filled the bathtub with the hottest water she could stand and soaked for a very long time, resting her head on the edge of the tub, feeling the nervousness, the madness and evil of the evening diffusing out of her skin. Her mind was clouded slightly with fatigue, but she managed to keep her floating train of thought away from the negative, daydreaming of the ball, of the hours-long conversation she'd just finished, of Vincent. When the water threatened to grow tepid, she washed the last traces of Elmyra's makeup from her face, dried off with the inn's towels, and dressed in the simple white shift she'd found in the wardrobe. She felt cleaner literally and figuratively, relaxed and purified. She wrapped her hair up in a towel to dry and brushed her teeth, starting to wonder about Vincent, worrying about his mental state—was he really at ease with what had happened, and could she help him tomorrow if he was not?—as well as wondering what would happen now. What if…You know what you want and what you don't, now stop putting it off.

She unwrapped her hair, now nearly dry, brushed it carefully, picked her velvet gown from the floor and hung it on the back of the door. Then Lucrecia gathered her courage and opened the door.

The lamp on the table had been turned off; the only light spilled from the door she'd opened, dimly lighting the nearer part of the room. The table was deserted. Vincent lay on his back on the covers of the bed, fully clothed except for shoes and jacket, as if he'd only meant to lie down for a moment, but he seemed fast asleep. Lucrecia felt a smile tug at her mouth, watching him. He seemed so untroubled when he slept…

Lucrecia closed the door, letting only a shimmer of light into the room, drew a deep breath, and slipped under the covers beside him. She turned over on her side, facing away from Vincent, torn between wanting to wake him up and wanting to leave him to sleep. The movement seemed to stir him; she felt the blankets pulled sideways just before his arm closed around her waist from behind. He settled in against her, the covers pulled over him, his head pillowed against her neck. She'd noticed as he moved that he seemed unusually clumsy with exhaustion. And lack of experience? Lucrecia wondered. Somehow, I hope so…

Still half-awake, Vincent nuzzled against her, kissing her throat and her hair, but despite the sudden trembling excitement Lucrecia whispered, "Please…that's all. I just want to sleep…"

"All right," he replied, sounding a bit disappointed yet content, and fell still, snuggled against her as before. Lucrecia leaned back against him and closed her eyes, dizzy with the strangeness of this, feeling indescribably safe and comforted.

"It's not you," she said quietly. "It's just too soon, especially after tonight, and we're both too tired…"

"'Course. I know. Thank you for reassuring me, though…" Lucrecia smiled to herself, in the dark, and felt herself beginning to slip toward sleep as well. "We'll have to get married, of course," Vincent murmured. Lucrecia's eyes snapped open; her body froze, perfectly still. We'll have to what?! "I want to sleep this way for the rest of my life…I can't remember…being so happy…as I've been with you…on the mountain…at the ball…walking with you…"

Lucrecia turned over to face him, and instinctively he shifted his position, settling again with his arms around her. She could hardly breathe, on the verge of tears. "I don't deserve you, Vincent," she whispered thinly.

"You deserve better than me," he whispered. "But I love you anyway." The held-back tears surged against her throat, almost choking her; she embraced him tightly, unable to speak. I want to love you, but I'm afraid to say it, I'm afraid… "Could you love me, Lucrecia?" Vincent asked drowsily. "Do you? Can I even dream of it?"

"Of course," she answered weakly. "Of course you can. Of course I love you."

"Don't say 'of course' like it's obvious…" he whispered, trailing off into silence as he began to fall back into sleep.

"It is obvious," she replied, knowing he was already asleep, wanting to say it anyway. She watched him as darkness stole in around the edges of her own vision. "How could I not love you…" She left the question unanswered, sinking finally into the night's deep calm.