2-6. Drift

Lucrecia was shocked out of sleep by an insistent knock on the door of her room. She swallowed, calming her pounding heart, and reached for her glasses on the bedside table. "Just a second," she called hoarsely, and coughed the roughness from her throat as she retrieved a robe from the wardrobe. Wrapping it around her, she opened the door and squinted into the bright light of the hall. "Who is-"

Vincent lunged almost too fast to see, catching her tight in his arms and kissing her mouth. His touch was urgent, almost desperate. Lucrecia pushed him back, confused and concerned. He was still wearing his Turk uniform. "Vincent…what's wrong?"

"Nothing. Not now, anyway. I missed you so much…"

Lucrecia relaxed. She'd expected a crisis. Relieved, she led him further into the room and closed the door before kissing him again. "I missed you, too. Why didn't you tell me you were leaving?"

"The orders didn't come in until the morning we left. It was strange; the Turks usually send their orders a day in advance. I'm sorry, I had no chance to tell you."

"It's all right." The important thing is that you left…but at any rate he's back, don't worry about that now. "Did you just get back?"

"Yes. I think my suitcase is still in the lobby, in fact."

"Silly." She mussed his hair affectionately, and he tossed it back out of his eyes. The sound of his quiet laugh wrung her heart; it was so familiar, so reassuring, so…beloved. That's the only word for it, really…

"You know me. Besides, I have everything important right here." He pressed a light kiss on her forehead. "Will you take a walk with me, Lucrecia?"

"Now? It's late."

"It's still warm." Lucrecia looked toward the open window and the cloudy night outside. Vincent turned her face back to him, with a touch on her chin. His voice was quiet, somewhere just short of pleading. "Please."

She sighed, clasping the neck of the robe closed with one hand; she hadn't taken the time to belt it properly. Vincent drew her closer, resting her head on his shoulder, slowly running his hand over her hair. Lucrecia closed her eyes, half comforted, half depressed. How long can this go on? If he'd been there…if I'd had a chance to talk to him…would I have turned down the deal?

Does it even matter now? It's done. But will he forgive me?

I forgave him for everything he's done…

"Well?"

Lucrecia nodded. "Okay. I have to get dressed."

"Aww, do we have to do that part?" he asked sulkily, with a rare gleam of mischief in his eyes.

She cracked a smile and pulled his dark-red tie too tight, leaving him to claw it off his throat as she turned and walked toward the wardrobe. Vincent coughed, and after a moment she heard the bed rustle as he stretched out to wait. He must be exhausted after all of that traveling… but then that's never stopped him from seeing me, has it?

She gathered an armful of clothes and headed for the bathroom, mumbling pardons. She changed quickly, leaving her hair loose, and returned to the main room. Vincent was sprawled out over the bed; Lucrecia stopped short in the doorway, rocked by the flood of memories summoned by the sight. I turned him down, that first night; he's never asked again…

Don't think about that now.

Vincent sat up, breaking the spell over her. "Ready?"

"Yes."

They slipped out of the inn, leaving Vincent's neglected suitcase with the desk clerk. The night was dark and overcast, with the threat of rain hanging low over the mountains, but the air was still warm. Lucrecia folded her arms against her stomach as she walked across the town square, heading nowhere in particular. Vincent walked beside her, watching her, though she barely noticed it. She was lost in her own musings, of Vincent's sudden disappearance and the contract with Hojo. Something nagged at a corner of her mind, something about those two things, and something else she couldn't place. They didn't add up; she was missing a piece of the equation, something small but vital… Stop making up ideas! The suits in Midgar changed their minds about who to send, that's all…

Vincent is a sharpshooter, not a bodyguard. Why would Dr. Gast need a sharpshooter?

As they passed from the town square and neared the Shinra Mansion, Vincent slipped his hand into the crook of her elbow; she looked up at him almost in surprise, then, with a halfhearted smile, relaxed her defensive posture and took his hand. For the moment, she could enjoy his company—try to enjoy his company, without thinking of conspiracies and experiments and hidden rooms…

Lucrecia walked toward the front gate of the Mansion as if drawn by an unseen magnet, though her eyes were distant and brooding as she watched the dark windows. The house was silent, most likely deserted at this hour. Except for the specimens…those never leave… Criminy, Luce, she scolded herself. Don't be so morbid. Unsure why she'd come or even where to go, she pushed open the creaking gate and slipped onto the grounds. Vincent followed, silent and withdrawn. His warm hand in hers was the only sign of life in him; he might as well have been as insubstantial as the shadows under the trees.

They passed under the newly budding trees, side by side, not speaking. The shadows were deeper now than they were last time she passed; there were no dusky patches of light at this hour. The night was still warm, but she had no desire to lie under the trees tonight.

There isn't a department in this company without blood on its hands, Vincent… do you realize what my job can entail?

Do I even realize what my job can entail? I don't know anymore…

It'll be over soon. Just wait for the right time, do what you have to do, and hope he'll forgive you in the end.

They walked for a long time; Vincent never questioned where they were going, and Lucrecia had no explanation to offer. At the far edge of the grounds she was forced to stop. A dark slash interrupted the lawn, running from the distant mountains toward the town. A faint rush of sound murmured into the night's silence—water, a stream. Lucrecia let go of Vincent's hand and slowly dropped to the bank, looking down into the rushing water. The streambed was deep and narrow; the swift water had cut sharply into the soil and the underlying rock.

Vincent sat beside her; she could feel him watching her, but had nothing to say to him, nothing to do but huddle here and watch the stream roaring by. Vincent spoke, after a pause. "Something's wrong."

She could not look at him, could not face the concern in his eyes. "I'm all right. It's late. I'm tired. That's all." Tired of fighting, more like it…tired of failing…I wish he didn't have to see this.

He put his arm around her shoulders, and she moved a little closer to him, leaning her head numbly against his. "We can go back," he said, his tone unfinished and uncertain.

"No."

Vincent nodded slightly. "All right…" His voice trailed off into silence.

He said no more for a time, looking up into the mountains, with one arm curled around her and the other hand in his pocket. Lucrecia slumped against him, praying for him to speak. I was your strength when you needed me, Vincent…can you be my strength? Just once, just now? Please say something… She watched the stream, aching to reach out and dangle her fingers in the cool water. It seemed so inviting, so pure…

Lucrecia traced the current upstream, toward the mountains—toward Mount Nibel. She looked into the stream again, glowing faintly in the nonexistent moonlight.

Mako.

She shivered despite the warm night, and though Vincent's arm closed tighter around her, she drew little comfort from it. What percentage do you think that is? Half a percent, one percent Mako? What will my blood look like when it's done? I'll never need a nightlight again. Lucrecia stifled a strangled giggle.

"What is it?" Vincent asked.

"Nothing, really." Nothing you can know…but I won't be able to keep something like this away from him…not when I'm…

"Are you sure?"

"Mm-hm."

Whose will it be? Vincent's? Could I do that to Vincent's child?

But who else…

Vincent sighed deeply, looking out over the mountains. "I wish I knew what was wrong," he said. His voice sounded lost. "You trust me, don't you?"

"Yes. It's not that." I don't want to hear your reply to what I have to say, I don't want to see your disappointment. And… "I don't want to worry you without a good reason."

"Anything you'd have is a good reason," he remarked absently. "But if you don't want to tell me, I…guess I can wait."

"Thank you," she answered, and though a month ago she would have snuggled in closer to him and rested her head on his shoulder, tonight she did not. She sat, self-contained within the circle of his arm, cool and silent.

I wish I could tell you. Or I wish I could keep it from you without this…silence. I can't let that go on for long, either. I can't let him slip away…

I can't lose you, Vincent. Not now.

Vincent did not speak, unaware of her unspoken prayers. They remained there for a long time, lost in individual thoughts of each other, at a loss for words, afraid of pushing the other away.

The tainted stream rushed by them, beautiful and deceptive, in the insincerely warm night.




"Hello-o."

She tried to speak up, to flatten the note of desperation from her voice. "Elmyra?"

"Lucie? What possessed you to call?"

"Nothing, really. How have you been?"

"Oh, I'm fine. Midgar's getting twitchier and twitchier over that whole Wutai thing, but it's not like they're sending anybody over. I mean, we beat them once, how many times does it take? Anyway, how've you been, hon?"

"I'm…" Where do I start? She looked down at her notebook, lying closed on the table. Worried. Tired. Stuck… but not for long. "…surviving."

"You don't sound too enthusiastic."

"I guess not. But it won't last forever."

"No trouble does," Elmyra said lightly. "So how are things with that handsome Turk of yours? Any signs of a Gainsborough double wedding?"

Lucrecia's throat constricted suddenly, though from shock or despair she couldn't determine. "Of course not!"

Elmyra giggled. "Don't sound so surprised! You've been together how long, six months?"

"Nine." The symbolism of the amount unsettled her, and she added quickly, "—almost ten. But that's not very much, really."

"Maybe. But he's already crazy about you, Luce. He really is. I could tell at the party, that man is gone."

Lucrecia couldn't help but smile at her sister's enthusiasm. I just wish I could believe it myself… "I think I could marry him," she admitted. "Someday. When I'm done with the Project and settled in Shinra." If he'll have me after that.

"Forget 'someday'. You never know what's going to happen in life, Luce. You can hope for the best, but you can't count on it. Take Reece—he keeps saying we'll get married someday, someday, because he's afraid of getting sent off to war and all. But I say that's all the more reason to enjoy now, because you never know what will happen. Not that anything will, God forbid. But you know."

"I suppose so. But I don't think our lives are that out of control. Not if we know what we're doing."

Elmyra's voice was serious, and strangely dark. "It's not your choice, Luce. It's not anyone's. And going out with a Turk, I think you'd've learned that life doesn't always turn out according to your plans."

Lucrecia swallowed, closed her eyes. Her free hand pressed down on the cover of her notebook. "Mine will," she stated. "It has to."

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. "Lucie? Are you sure you're all right?"

A sudden, sardonic smile quirked her mouth. "Not yet. But I will be."

"What are you talk-"

"Goodnight, Elly." She hung up before her sister could speak again.