2-8. Someday

Lucrecia stirred from sleep as slats of warm sunlight moved across her face. She squinted against them toward the windowshade for a moment, shading her eyes with her hand, then turned over and reached for her glasses on the endtable. Her fumbling hand hit not cool wood, but something warm and soft. She startled, suddenly awake, and her eyes focused on the blanketed mound between her and the table. Slowly she relaxed, sinking back into the pillows. She watched the quietly breathing form beside her until the rising flood of memories almost brought tears to her eyes, then closed her eyes against the strengthening sunlight.

With a rustle of covers and a quiet sigh, Vincent turned toward her and slipped his arm around her waist. Lucrecia lay still, listening to his soft sleeping breath against her neck. She tried to shut out all other thought and emotion for a while—desire and memory and the ever-present flicker of fear—and simply breathed in the warmth and comfort of the moment. This is what I have to look forward to, she thought, and raised her hand to cover his. Someday…when I've finished what I have to do… this, a home in the open air, a man who loves me, peace and quiet… someday…

But I have so much time to worry about that.

Vincent would wait for her; she knew that now. He'd confessed so much in the night, as if the words had been stored up, stockpiled and waiting for a chance to be freed. He'd talked himself to sleep last night, half-coherent and almost inaudible. But she knew now. He trusted her absolutely, which touched off a twinge of regret; she didn't want to disappoint him by failing. But he trusted her as he hadn't trusted anyone in years, and she hoped that his trust would help him accept her appointed path.

And he loved her, of course, as he never had before. She was his first love, he'd told her, though not his first lover. He'd been ashamed when he said it, fearing her disappointment, though she assured him that she was not disappointed. She took his adoration as the compliment it was, although some part of her feared she could not live up to it, or match it with her own. Lucrecia loved Vincent, though she wasn't sure whether it were with the same depth that he confessed to her. Even as she'd whispered back affirmations to him, she found a part of herself drawing away. Vincent's fervor unnerved her, his need to connect with another human soul; a closeness that complete, that intense, was something she wasn't quite prepared to handle. She noted her fear as rationally as she could, as something to improve upon. Someday she'd be ready, after all of the rest was done, after she'd secured her future. When that day came, she could repay him all the commitment he deserved.

And until then, Vincent would wait. If nothing else, she could be sure of that.

The morning slowly slid by, and as the sunlight grew stronger Vincent woke. He yawned, then kissed Lucrecia's cheek. "Sleep well?" he asked. She nodded. "No nightmares this time?"

"None. You?"

"How could I?" He settled his chin against her shoulder again, comfortably. "I don't think I've slept so well in years."

Lucrecia smiled and hugged him tighter for a moment. Someday… "We'll have to get up eventually, you know."

"Do we have to?" Vincent groaned, half-jokingly.

"I'm afraid so. I don't think this is covered under Shinra's sick-leave policy."

"Tyrants. It should be." He yawned again and sat up, stretching his long limbs. Lucrecia watched him, partly attracted and partly stunned; it had been dark in the room, the night before… "What time is it?"

"I can't see the clock; it's on the endtable."

Vincent looked at it. "Eight. Good. When do you have to be there?"

"There's no set time, as long as I get everything done…don't worry about it."

He nodded. "Oh, for the life of a salaried employee. I'm due in at nine. Just enough time." Vincent bent to kiss her lips one more time, then reluctantly got up and dressed in the clothes he'd worn the day before. "I'm going to get my things. I'll be right back."

"All right."

After he left, Lucrecia tried to go on as if it were a normal workday. She showered, dressed, and clipped her ID tag onto the pocket of her lab coat. The only changes in the routine, it seemed, were the broken door and the young Turk who knocked on it, half an hour later.

"Ready?" Vincent asked, when she opened the door. "We're both going to the Mansion, so I thought we could walk together."

"Sure." She smiled at him, warmed by the simple gesture. This could make a nice routine, over the years. They even worked in the same building back in Midgar, so when they eventually returned… But that's a while off, she thought. Don't worry about it now.

They left the inn together, hand in hand, lifting their faces to the warm April sun. Spring was kind to Nibelheim, it seemed, after the endless alpine winter. For the first time in months, Lucrecia felt some promise in this town. All she had to do was carry out this one project, the greatest of her life, her one sure shot at triumph. Then, she could have it all: power, influence, money, success… and Vincent, with his dreams of domestic tranquility. She would have it all, in time. But for now, there was simply this, the birds chirping on the inn's roof, the sun finally warm on the thawed ground, the handsome Turk with his hand held solidly in hers. Life was calm, and predictable, and it had promise. For the first time in months, she felt true anticipation for the future.

Someday, her dreams would come together. All in good time.

As they neared the well in the town square, Vincent started to walk in the wrong direction. Lucrecia looked at him quizzically. "Where are you going?"

"Come with me for a minute. There's something I'd like to show you."

"All right…" She followed him as he walked down the lane that led out of town, wondering what he could want to show her. A view of the greening mountains, maybe…?

Vincent stopped just outside the gates of the town, where they would not be easily seen. He faced her questioning gaze for a moment, a trace of nervousness showing through his carefully controlled expression. "I've thought about this for a long time," he said. "I spent most of my week in Midgar thinking about it, too, and…well, now I'm sure."

He reached into his pocket, and Lucrecia felt her world freeze. Everything seemed silent; she could no longer hear the birds on the roof of the inn or the voices of the children in the square. Vincent brought his hand up, and she saw a sickening flash of gold the moment before his quiet voice, the only sound in the world, reached her ears with perfect clarity. "Lucrecia, will you marry me?"

She felt him touch her hands, sliding the ring onto her finger; she felt the rough surface of the stone brush her hand. But she did not see it. Her eyes were clenched shut over the panic, the terror that rose like wildfire through her entire being.

It was so perfect, so perfect, why now, why did you have to ask now, it's too soon, too soon, not now…

Hot tears forced her eyes open, and she stared, stunned, at the wavering images of the ring on her hand, the man in front of her, his hopeful face. "Well?" he asked gently.

Not yet! Not now, I had it all planned…not until after the project, then…not now…

Lucrecia could not speak; her throat was too tight with unshed tears, too busy straining against a scream. She shook her head, and as the tears burst through with their full force, she felt herself turn and run, away from Vincent, away from Nibelheim, away from the shattered order of her daydreams.

And in her mind echoed one thing, over and over, drowning out all else: Not now, not now, not now…




Lucrecia ran blindly over the meadows outside Nibelheim, stumbling over tufts of new grass. At last she fell at the edge of the fields, where the cliffs rose from the sea. She crumpled on the cliff's edge and stared numbly down into the void.

What have I done?

She was still shuddering with tears, uncontrollably, as if her body were not her own. The fields were mute and empty behind her, and the wind did not move. The ocean roiled beneath her, deep and mysterious, filled with pale, cold beings that had never seen light. Her mind warred with itself, torn between reason and grief, pulling her one way and the other as unstoppably as the tides below.

Why did he… I had it all planned.

But it doesn't always follow the plan, does it?

I had it planned, it was perfect…

No, it wasn't perfect; you are human, after all.

But it's gone, and I can't fix it… It's too late now…too late…

The promise of the day had died, sucked down further into the dark than she could ever reach. There was no hope in the day's brightness now, no comfort in its warmth. She'd turned him down—Vincent, who loved her with all his heart. She'd turned him down because he couldn't see the importance of her project, didn't understand the beautiful, dependable order of her plan…

Admit it: and because he loves you too much, because he wants too much, too soon…and because nothing can stand between you and your dream.

I didn't mean to hurt him, I never meant to hurt him…but it's too late now. What can I do now?

I can do what I have to do…there is nothing else.

Lucrecia struggled to her feet and stood alone on the empty promontory, suspended between earth, sea, and sky. What was left now? Duty. Responsibility. The promise of success, which Hojo held out like a clear jewel, just out of her reach. All the power Shinra could offer…

The JENOVA Project.

And Vincent… would he forgive her, for what she had to do? He might understand duty; he'd killed in the name of the Corporation.

But I'm not like that! I won't kill! I will create…

She remembered the child then, the child of the Project. She would not think of its father. She thought of it as a creation of hers alone, a thing of dreams and sheer will, born pure through the will of Science.

…and infusions of alien cells, and about five liters of liquid Mako—Don't think about that.

The tears started to flow again, uncontrollably, from fear as much as from grief. Vincent… you may not forgive me. But I will try to deserve your devotion. I will prove my power.

I will prove it the only way I know how.

If you'll have me…

Lucrecia choked on the rising sobs and turned toward the waiting town, now only a blur through the curtain of tears. She started to walk toward it, slowly, wearily, with a numb determination. The sun was brighter now, stinging her streaming eyes, and she squinted against the light as she neared the town. The memory of the morning's clear sunlight came back to her—the sunlight, and the calm, warm peace she'd felt in Vincent's arms…

Vincent… Oh, God, Vincent, what have I done to you…

The sobs broke out stronger than ever, almost hysterically. Then she saw, wavering, through the tears, a pale shadow detaching itself from the shelter of the town's gate. Took off his Turk's jacket again, she thought, just like last night…

She crashed into him, almost too exhausted to stand. He hesitated, then put his arms around her and held her in a cool embrace. Lucrecia wept against his chest as an uneasy relief spread through her. Maybe Vincent could forgive her, after all…

Dimly she heard herself whispering, "You forgive me, I didn't think you would… I do love you, it's just that… it's too soon…"

There was the touch of a hand under her chin, calm with a slight tremor of excitement.

"Vincent…"

There was a faint sound, a scoff, almost too quiet to be heard. His lips touched hers, carefully at first, then harder, driven, as if something had snapped in him, something dark and unhealthy, kept in chains for far too long.

From somewhere out of her line of vision, there was a sound of footsteps, fleeing the town, into the fields beyond.

Something's wrong. Something's very wrong.

Lucrecia's mind sharpened with alarm and a sudden, rising dread. She withdrew one hand to push the tears out of her eyes, and looked up where Vincent's face should have been.

Her eyes flicked downward to meet the faintly smirking eyes of her overseer, Hojo.

Hot anger flared through her mind, burning away the relief. Lucrecia wrenched her body out of his arms and shoved him away. Hojo lurched backwards to the ground, in the scuffed brick road leading out of Nibelheim. He did not get up. He sat in the dust, watching her, waiting. There was no shock in his eyes, nothing to hide the cold spark of triumph.

Lucrecia stood, glaring back at him, her fists clenched and her stomach knotted with disgust. And the thought came to her again, more dire now than it had ever been:

What have I done?

The silence drew tight between them; she could not hear the birds now, or the midday bustle of the town. There was only the struggle within her, and the wordless waiting of the father of the Project.

What have I done? I've done what I deserved…

I let him go, the good man…I let him go. I made a pact with this devil and I let my angel go…

There's nothing I can do now.

She spoke one word, so quietly that it should not have been heard, but both of them knew what it was. One had known somewhere that it was inevitable, in spite of any intervention; the other had waited to hear it, in a dark corner close to madness, for longer than reason wanted to know.

"Now."