3-4. Heaven's Love
A small group of family, childhood friends, and neighbors, dressed carefully in the best clothes they owned, gathered in the Sector Five church amid an explosion of flowers. A starry foam of white anemones crashed against the walls, part of an intricate wooden lattice entwined with pale stalks of lavender and clouds of baby's breath. The pews were garlanded with green ribbons, interwoven with lavender and small sprays of precious white orchids and pink roses. It was some of the finest stock the Gainsborough garden owned; the bride's bookish sister Lucrecia had traced the ancestry of these plants in her childhood, and the bride, known for her spirited wit and carefree conversation, had nursed these plants with trained tenderness and ceaseless patience for their role in this day.
Elmyra Anthesa Gainsborough and Reece Andreas Logan stood facing one another, their hands linked, under an archway of delicate white blossoms and rippling green ribbons. All they knew in the world waited below in the pews, breathless with anticipation, but they saw only each other. Reece wore his dress uniform, and Elmyra a newly green-embroidered dress which had once seen a Shinra ball, but despite the familiarity of their clothes, each sight their eyes fell on seemed created for this day, floated into the world on this sea of flowers. The two had known each other for years, but felt as if they were lost in unfamiliar and exhilarating territory. Each saw the other transfigured by the moment, made eternally beautiful by this unique mixture of love and terror.
At the priestess's solemn nod, the two began to recite the final prayer, their voices stumbling a little together, nestling comfortably against one another.
Let us be one, they began, and the congregation silently whispered the words with them, reliving or hoping or simply feeling for these two, set so precariously against the uncertainty of the world.
Let the world which made us all rejoice,
for we are all one soul in eternity.
For you I have shown my love.
Let it flow as a light, endlessly,
for light and love are life,
three as one in heaven, two as one on earth.
Let us join in Heaven's love.
Let us be one.
The priestess lifted her hands to the couple in blessing, repeating the ending phrases in an ancient tongue. "Sephiaera," she murmured, heaven's love; the calm evenness of her voice made the ancient word sound like music. "May your love bind you throughout your lives, Reece and Elmyra Logan. Go in peace, and brighten the world."
"Go in peace," echoed the watchers in one gratified sigh. The couple at the altar embraced, and Reece nearly lifted Elmyra off the ground in his excitement. For a long time it seemed that they had forgotten the ceremony, lost in their own world. A faint glimmer of tears flashed on Elmyra's cheek for a moment, but when they turned toward the church, her face showed only undiluted happiness. The pair seemed innocent of time, innocent of the dark world outside the sanctuary doors, of the vicious whispers of war. Two envelopes lay calmly on the counter in the bride's kitchen, a summons and an announcement; for the moment, only one counted.
In the pews, lost among the small crowd of celebrants, a silent young man tightly squeezed the hand of the young woman next to him, who sat without moving despite the desperate fervor in her eyes. The watchers stood to face the bridal couple as they proceeded down the aisle and out of the church. When they had gone and the crowd broke up into happy chaos, the ceremony transforming into a parade to the reception, the young man could not hide his bitter tears.
The humble house in the Midgar slums had been zealously cleaned and polished, every room dedicated to the entertainment of the small party of well-wishers. The bride and groom stood just inside the door, welcoming friends, old schoolmates, ancient relatives wishing peace for their parents' souls, and more than a few Shinra guards in their green dress uniforms. Reece thumped his mates on the back and directed them toward the wine while Elmyra charmingly deflected any mention of the upcoming war.
The last pair in line straggled in late, having fallen back to the pace of the granddames and great-uncles. Elmyra startled at the sight of a man in dark blue, but a smile dawned over her face when she saw her sister beside him. She rushed from the house, her golden gown catching the stray flecks of sunlight, and swept her sister into a joyful embrace. "Lucie, Lucie! I couldn't wait to see you, I'm so glad you could come! How have you been, I haven't heard from you in ages—"
"I'm fine, Elly," Lucrecia said with the beginnings of a smile, as she gently freed herself from her sibling's grasp. "Ask me again tomorrow night, but right now I'm fine."
Elmyra laughed. "Dr. Gast told me about the meeting when he came in. You'll do great, Luce; you have more science knowhow in your little finger than the President's entire cabinet. Don't worry about it. And Vince…ent!" she corrected herself. "Sorry. How have you been?"
"I've seen worse, Mrs. Logan," Vincent replied simply. "Thanks for your concern."
"'Mrs. Logan!'" Elmyra giggled. "I guess it's right, but it sounds so formal! Don't let him call you 'Mrs. Valentine', Lucie. You'll sound like a pair of old codgers before you're thirty." Vincent, watching Lucrecia carefully, caught the flash of panic in her eyes, but her preoccupied sister charged on ahead. "And why didn't I hear about this?" Her slender hands spread across her sister's stomach, which couldn't be hidden even under her loose gown. "How far along are you, six months or so?"
"Four," Lucrecia said quietly.
"Gods, Lucie, you've got to be kidding. You're huge for only four months. Are you sure you're not carrying a whole litter there?" The younger Gainsborough giggled, unaware of the glassy panic coalescing in her sister's eyes. Vincent took Lucrecia's arm gently, startling her out of her frozen stare. Lucrecia shook her head, blinking the stupor away.
"Are you all right?" Elmyra asked, looking at her sister more closely. "You look a little pale." She tipped her head slightly, frowning. "No, you look very pale. And your eyes…"
"No—no, I'm all right," Lucrecia stammered, waving her sister's hand away. "It's probably just the light down here, you know, makes things look unnatural…" Vincent nudged the besieged scientist toward the door by her arm, murmuring a final thank-you to Elmyra. The younger Gainsborough reached up to squeeze Vincent's shoulder, offering a sincere smile up at him. It was the last time he spoke to her for a very long time. "Congratulations," she whispered, just before they passed through the door.
The Gainsborough homestead had taken on a carnival atmosphere, one not without its fleeting whiff of doom. At least a third of the guests were low-ranking soldiers in dress green, and many of the others—Elmyra's neighbors and former schoolmates, as well as family—had the harried good nature of lower-echelon Shinra. Vincent was the only one dressed in Turk blue, and as he guided Lucrecia toward the refreshment table he noticed a few curious stares. A few were directed at Lucrecia, particularly from elderly female relatives, who whispered to each other and nodded in smug satisfaction. The majority of the attention, however, was drawn to Vincent. Their eyes darted away if he looked toward them, but he caught their looks of nervous awe. The sight of the crowd at the Crystal Room ball came back to him sharply: a sea of bovine stares, sliding uselessly over him as he ran for the door in a spreading slick of red. These were the same sad cattle, these tired guests from the wedding, gazing with blank amazement at the Corporation's hired killer.
Lucrecia took a cup of water, but nothing else. She kept close to Vincent, seeming wary of the other guests and unwilling to speak. She smiled faintly at the few who approached her and mumbled variations on the theme that she was happy for Elmyra, and yes, she was doing just fine, thank you. Before half an hour had passed she asked if they might go upstairs to get away from the crowd. Vincent was all too happy to oblige.
Lucrecia slipped ahead, leading Vincent by the hand to a small room on the second floor. She spread her arms wide and gratefully sank to the bed, hugging the pillows. "This used to be my old room," she sighed happily. "Seems so long ago now…" Her voice drifted off as she closed her eyes. "I'm sorry, Vincent," she said softly. "I'm just so tired… and it was too loud down there…"
"I don't mind," he replied. "Rest if you like. Or sleep; I'll make sure no one bothers you."
"Thank you," she said, with a faint but genuine smile. "I've had such terrible nightmares lately, but I think I'll be all right here…" She yawned and closed her eyes again, settling into a grateful sleep.
Vincent quietly crossed the room to the window and looked down into the Gainsboroughs' garden, the center of the family trade and Elmyra's prized possession. Despite the weak light under the plate, the plants thrived; party guests wandered among them, talking or admiring the flowers. Outside, Elmyra was unable to police their topics of conversation. Vincent didn't doubt that the predominating issue in the garden was the war with Wutai.
The silent Turk turned away and knelt next to Lucrecia's bed. She seemed close to sleep, though not entirely lost to it. The panic had faded from her face, though it still bore the signs of strain that had plagued her for the last few months. Her skin was unusually pale, as her sister had guessed; here, lit only by dim, indirect sunlight, it seemed as smooth and translucent as porcelain. He covered her white hand with his, and the movement stirred her enough to open her eyes a little and smile at him before slipping back into near-sleep. In that moment he'd seen, as Elmyra had, something that had missed his attention so far. It had crept in so slowly that he had not seen it, though he saw his beloved nearly every day.
Her brown eyes glowed with a faint amber light.
Mako. Vincent remembered the addicts of the worst Midgar alleys, raving lunatics with glowing eyes—
He shoved the thought from his mind. Lucrecia was nothing like that.
Vincent watched her for a long time, as the afternoon light yellowed and strengthened. She had changed. He could no longer deny that. She seemed less like the woman he'd loved last summer, quick-witted and focused, uncertain but strong. She was quieter now, more withdrawn, and a preoccupation lay between her thoughts and her words. To him she seemed to be touched by something unexplainable, something beyond normal bounds. It was almost as if she were possessed by a subtle spirit, or afflicted by a sickness of mysterious origin. He condemned himself for such superstitious ideas, but his heart still felt a new thrill of fear when he touched her, as if she were something either deadly or sanctified.
He drew his hand away from hers, absently fingering the ring on his left hand. He still wore it religiously, the diamond turned away from view as she had first placed it. Though he had failed once in giving it to her, he would offer it again someday. If he failed a second time, he would offer it again. He would not let his mistakes go unrectified. He would see that Lucrecia had a happy life, if it took all the time and energy he possessed. Vincent still loved her, of course. He could not imagine a circumstance that could kill that love. She had rejected his offer of marriage, had consented to the touch of another man—and still Vincent loved her. In the last few months, he found that he loved her in a way he could no longer explain. She seemed to have been altered from the woman he'd been so infatuated with, but yet he could imagine no greater happiness than to shield her from all harm until her real self returned. The Lucrecia he'd first loved was gone, leaving this beautiful and breakable angel in her place—and Vincent loved this too, with a hurtful, fatalistic intensity. Lucrecia, the capable, living Lucrecia he first loved, would come back to him. He would wait until she did, and protect the glass goddess Lucrecia… and her inexplicable child.
It was another man's child, he reminded himself consistently; he would not allow himself to dream that it might be his own. Still, it was hers, and out of love for Lucrecia he would protect her child as well. When the child was born and Lucrecia recovered from the draining effects of nurturing it, all three of them could escape from Nibelheim, defying Shinra and Hojo and any others who would keep them apart. Vincent leaned his forehead against the covers, hiding his face. There was no greater dream in his heart than this: the calm safety of the wilderness or some obscure town, the woman he loved, her misbegotten but still cherished child—and any others that might come, touched with Vincent's dark eyes or his quiet manner. No one would bother them there, far from the demanding gaze of Shinra. He would never again have to feel the cold smoothness of metal in his hand, melded with Shinra's will to make him a living instrument of death. They would know quiet happiness, and consistency, and peace.
Vincent nearly wept, thinking about it. He hadn't known such peace for over twenty years, when the distant dream of childhood had been shattered by fate and a speeding subway. All of the love and warmth he had known were reduced to a bright, indistinct impression, a watercolor painting washed by rain. He would capture such peace again, even if it meant defying Shinra. Even if it meant going into hiding with those he held most dear. All of them, everything he loved, would be safe. He would see to that any way he could.
Things would be normal again someday.
Lucrecia's childhood bedroom was quiet; the talk of the reception guests did not penetrate the solid wooden walls of the house. Vincent slowly stood and pulled a blanket over the still body of his beloved. Pausing by the foot of the bed, he slipped off his suit jacket and loosened his tie, then draped both of them over Lucrecia's feet. The guests still might remember his face from the debacle at the party, but he wanted as little as possible to brand him as a Turk. Vincent checked once more to see that Lucrecia slept peacefully, then stepped into the hall and closed the door behind him without a sound.
