Chapter 6
Amor Mortis…
He paused, unsure of exactly he was doing. She'd come back, Nanaki had gone with her, and now what? Was he actually going to drop everything and leave just for the chance to get his hands on a few crystals.
But that had been his life's ambition, hadn't it. Up until now he would have done anything to experience magic first hand. So what had changed his mind so thoroughly?
Naethan touched his forehead, the total lack of headache bothering him far more than it should. He had been on the receiving end of a restorative… well, he didn't know exactly what to call it. The strange thing was though, was that it really hadn't been such a big deal.
Right. He pushed down on the door handle, leaning into it as he almost fell into the room. It was a whole day since he'd been unceremoniously dragged out of the refectory, to talk about war and magic with a group of what were most definitely not humans; who'd disappeared in less time than they'd materialised.
The lack of headache was really disturbing him now.
"Are you going to stand there looking stupid, or are you going to get ready?"
Naethan managed to pull his expression into a crude semblance of normalcy as his roommate dangled backwards over her high bunk. Black hair dripped in long threads from the railing, and blue eyes narrowed at him.
"Huh, get ready for what?" He asked, trying not to seem agitated that she knew something already. "I was just gonna get some sleep, if you don't mind."
He dropped onto his own bunk and began to untie the laces of his battered sneakers. It would do no harm to think it all over for a while. He had until nine, nine thirtyish before they were due to meet this associate of Nanaki's.
And after that, Midgar, in an airship no less.
"You might as well get ready now." Lilly continued, not bothering to correct her current state of inversion. "Because you're going to follow her whatever you were planning on telling me. Don't waste time on my behalf. I'm a little tired, good night."
He was just about to protest when the long dark swathes of hair retreated from the edge of the bed. She obviously wasn't going to give him a chance of arguing back, whatever excuses he'd manage to stammer out unconvincingly before shoving the things he'd already prepared into a bag and walking out into the empty corridor. So he just packed in silence.
Then he threw the bag at the door and sat down to re-tie his laces, still in silence.
She'd not sounded upset, or angry. So why the silent treatment all of a sudden? He was just waiting for something he knew would never happen; why would Lilly try to talk him out of it when she'd practically pushed him out of the door.
'You're going to follow her.' Lilliyan's words, and he hadn't even told her about the meeting. Had she seen them, and not bothered to say anything?
Not for one moment did he bother to flatter himself with the thought that his roommate might be jealous. She wasn't, Lilly was not even vaguely interested in him, he knew that. But it still didn't explain why she didn't want to talk to him now. Especially after being the one to broach the subject in the first place.
"I'm going, then, Lilly." He said eventually, reaching for his jacket and then retrieving the bag from it's little heap on the floor among the discarded socks that hadn't quite migrated to beneath the bunks yet. "Lilly?"
There was no answer from the dark alcove, and he pulled himself up a couple of the rungs toward her bed. "You asleep already?" He joked, peering over the edge. She smiled back, but when she tried to tell him to hurry up and get a move on, she just couldn't. Pulling her blanket up further, she just managed to shake her head weakly.
"Take care of yourself, okay. Whatever happens, do what you think is best, and I'll see you around." She said quietly, waiting until he dropped back onto the ground.
"I will, Lilly. You too, okay, I'll try and think of you whenever the nights get cold and spooky." He grinned, leaving before anything was thrown at his retreating comment. As the door closed behind him, Lilly collapsed back into her bed, far more worn out than she'd ever admitted.
~*^*~*^*~
Long past dark; Vincent reached the bluff overlooking what was left of Midgar. With the chilling night air penetrating deep into his bones, and an ache now settling into his back; it just added to the memories of the first time he'd seen that city. He felt old.
Moonlight seemed to turn the huge structures, only a couple of miles away, into a void of tangled foliage. It seemed alive, writhing slowly between tall crumbling pillars of steel. With every step forwards the mass of living vines and jungle grew, as it would slowly bury the stone and swallow the city and any trace of the people who had once lived there. That was what happened to mausoleums, eventually life thrived and reclaimed any sort of human memorial.
Approaching the apex of his climb, Vincent could now see the city of Midgar from above. Once an expanse of glittering lights that was now a black hole. Midgar had imploded upon itself, and left a dark background to the gleaming, moonlight drenched sword that cleaved the horizon in twain. It was that which he aimed toward now, a warriors burial. The blade was very familiar, nothing particularly ornate or magical, but very special to its past owners. The dark, worn steel blade was still unaged. Only a tangle of clematis wrapping around the metal and weaving through the two circular holes served to indicate that it might have been here for any amount of time. The ground around the base was covered with tiny golden flowers, which somehow retained their colour even in darkness.
Cloud had been here, recently, for around the hilt of the sword, along with three sets of dog tags, hung a wreath of daisies. It was like something a child would weave on a summer afternoon, when there was nothing better to do than play with flowers. It might have been just that were it not for the fact that daisies did not customarily grow in winter.
This was the grave of someone very well loved. It stood in the middle of nowhere, more than a shallow pit dug in desperation by someone who was trying to protect the body that lay there. Stopping to take in the sight, Vincent realised that he had nothing to give, not even a memory.
Despite appearances, Vincent was not at all familiar with burial customs. He knew plenty about killing, and even though he'd spent thirty years entombed in a crypt below hell's gate, he had never actually laid a loved one to rest. Not until Lucrecia, anyway. His chest tightened involuntarily, and he pulled his cape tighter. Now would not be a good time to start getting lost in the past. The sword on his back was also still there, and the sooner he found its owner, the sooner he could be rid of the weight. That was one burden easily unloaded.
Burdens, death… Everything about this journey was ominous, there would be no happy ending. Unless one believed that there was a certain happiness that came with the knowledge that it was really the end.
*
"You made it… I wasn't sure."
The small, grey haired woman smiled shyly down at Vincent's polished black shoes, hiding the redness in her light brown eyes. She'd been crying very recently, and with enough reason. It was her husband's funeral.
"Of course I came, Shera. When Reno told me, I… I had to offer my sympathies." He faltered. What did one say to somebody whose life had all but ended, that would not sound contrived or altogether inadequate.
"I'm glad you came, I don't think he'd have appreciated a big fuss. But he'd be happy to know that everybody came." Shera explained, seeing the conflict in the dark crimson eyes. Vincent felt decidedly uncomfortable as he stood in his black suit and took another look around the group. 'Everybody' was not a lot. They hardly surrounded the six foot casket, and of the group he appeared the youngest. It scared him a little, not having seen some of these people in decades.
Yuffie and Reno were there, both neat and respectable which in itself was something he would never have expected, once. She still had raven black hair, set into an intricate style with lacquered combs and pins. Reno's flame red was mostly grey now though, and his smirk was nowhere to be found. Shera was still trying hard not to cry, although every small movement betrayed her pain. Her daughter, a woman herself, looked just as drawn and tired, and completely out of place in a dress instead of overalls.
Then there was Marlene. Just looking at her hurt, her long braided hair falling over one shoulder as she rested against her husband's shoulder, he couldn't help but notice the lines around those sparkling green eyes. Even Nanaki had aged, although he was just reaching adulthood, there was still an aura of sadness around him that wasn't just due to the sombre occasion.
That was it, the only remainder of their group. Cid Highwind, undoubtedly the worlds greatest pilot and one of the first to reach space in millennia, was remembered by only a handful of people who'd seen far more terrible things than anyone ought. All survivors, but everything had to die someday, except of course for himself.
"Terrible, isn't it."
Yuffie had come closer and laid her hand on her friend's shoulder. The light was still in her eyes, but the smile she gave him was tired. Vincent agreed silently and only half listened to the priest who was reading, with only slightly more enthusiasm than Cid was showing, over the casket. It was a small church, and even then his voice was lost in the empty hall, rattling between empty oaken pews and resonating softly around the stone supports.
A hand squeezed his, gently, and he didn't have to look to know that Yuffie was still standing there, and that the comfort was her own as well. She'd been quite fond of the old engineer as far as Vincent could tell, he'd been one of the first to join Wutai's forces in the last Great War. He'd led the airforce, along with captain Tochigi, while Vincent had gone with Reno and the rest of the Turks to form part of the special tactics squad, led by Cloud…
Nobody even bothered to comment on his absence anymore. He'd disappeared only days after Tifa's funeral, taking every piece of materia and effectively making the war redundant. He was presumed to have died a long time ago, and even if he hadn't, he would be an old man by now.
Vincent let his eyes drop to see his own youthful hand, fingers wrapped by a small, thin fist that just showed beneath her formal kimono. Her knuckles were white as she gripped tighter, doing exactly the same to Reno's ever mistreated hand as both men shared an understanding glance.
If it hadn't been so silent, nobody would have heard the door at the other end of the aisle crack open, letting only a slither of sunlight fall onto the threadbare carpet. As it was, only he and Nanaki turned to see the small silhouette framed by the narrow pillar of sunlight. Outside it was a beautiful day, not one cloud in the cerulean sky, and hardly the accepted perfect weather for a funeral. The door was pushed further to allow the sunlight to fill the room and fall across the casket as the newcomer approached.
"I'm sorry I'm late, it's just such a lovely day… I stopped to pick you some flowers."
Now, the small group turned to see the young boy as he smiled brightly, with eyes as bright as cornflowers. He was wearing a simple black suit, and as he passed through the group, they noticed he was addressing the altar, a small bunch of wildflowers clasped between his pale hands. His hair was long, and fell easily down to his waist in soft waves of sunshine gold, and then it was that they heard the bible hit the ground. The priest was wide eyed, his mouth parted in a silent prayer which died slowly on his lips.
"G g… ghost!"
Vincent was about to tell the man that the young boy was most definitely not a ghost although he appeared a little pale, not to mention familiar, when he saw that there was another hand, slightly transparent, wrapped around the flowers and running through the petals. It was as young as the solid ones that lay the bouquet softly onto the body, and again, the boy laughed.
"Yeah, well they would look at you funny, Cid; you're see-through." He whispered, earning another round of disbelieving stares as it was noticed that there was a definite presence hovering over his shoulder. Another young, sapphire eyed blond. "Not to mention much better looking than they all remember."
The ghost that was Cid stood and turned, closely followed by the rest of the group, to look at Shera. She was smiling softly, holding out her hands. Already she appeared ten years younger, and utterly radiant.
The boy made to push the ghost forward, gaining what would have been a rather amusing, scathing, glower, were it not that the one giving it was a shade. They were taking no notice of anybody else in the room, not even the priest; hiding behind his hastily retrieved bible. Shera moved to meet the outstretched hand, and then her eyes lit up again at something that was said and only she and he could hear.
"Yes, I… understand my love. You look so, so handsome." She said, clearly blushing as the ghostly hand indicated that she go with the boy. They stood like that, somehow conversing in the circle of silent, confused friends before she nodded and turned to the boy. "I can do that?"
He held out a hand, barely larger than her own, and bandaged just below the fabric of his jacket. When Vincent saw this, and the silver line that crossed the palm he realised why the boy seemed so familiar. If one was to cut that fine, braid-waved hair just short enough that it wasn't weighed down, and add a few years of constant stress…
"Cloud?"
Leading the rejuvenated engineer away from the unnecessary sight of her husband's shell, Cloud finally seemed to notice the others. His smile faded a little, and love-in-a-mist eyes flicked briefly to the ground before moving to rest on Vincent's questioning crimson, affirming the suspicions he had voiced involuntarily. They passed around the group of awakening faces as one by one they began to recognise him.
"Surprised, Valentine?" He replied, the accent unmistakable now they knew who to associate it with. "I promised Cid, I… I'll see you later." With that, he and Shera left through the wide doors unchallenged, she didn't seem at all surprised at the reappearance of someone she barely knew in her youth, happily walking with him into the sunshine.
*
The funeral continued as if nothing had happened, a complete farce as far as Vincent was now concerned, and Shera was found the next day, having peacefully joined her dragon hearted pilot in their Promised Land.
Vincent dropped the daisy wreath back onto the hilt, stepping around the bed of yellow spray… he couldn't exactly recall what they were called, but it would come back to him eventually. Probably when he was trying to concentrate on something else more important.
'Later' had turned out to be more than a decade, another funeral, Marlene's. It had almost been too much that day, until he saw the familiar sight of the still-young swordsman and didn't even question it. For some reason, he was sure he saw the flower girl by his side for a moment, and was later reassured when he caught up with Cloud's delayed disappearing act.
*
"She asked to see the flower lady." Cloud elucidated, before even acknowledging the presence approaching him across the courtyard. Vincent stopped, his outstretched hand falling uselessly to his side. "Aerith… she's doing well, if you wondered."
"What about you Cloud? Why haven't you come to see anybody, except for when they die. What are you afraid of?"
His mouth snapped shut, shocked. But when Cloud turned around he wasn't smiling, or angry, or upset… he just, stared. Straightening his suit jacket, Vincent composed himself once more and met his empty gaze.
"Is it because you don't want anybody to see that you're not as old as they think you are?"
Cloud shoved his hands in his pockets and started to walk away. Uncertain, Vincent remained where he was, watching that long blonde hair trail out behind the young mercenary like a shroud.
"Come on then." The blond added, as he paused mid-step. "Unless, of course, my appearance has you so overcome with shock and admiration that you somehow lost the ability to think for yourself."
Vincent fought the urge to shout back an undignified comment and run after him, instead settling on a slow walk. He was shocked, after all, he'd thought that Cloud's appearance all those years ago was just because he was young… and small. But the boy seemed younger now, if anything. He no longer sported dark, sunken eyes or a permanent look that told everyone exactly how many seconds they had left to live. He wanted to ask what Cloud had been doing all those years, but it just wouldn't form itself into a coherent question in his head.
"I suppose you're right." Cloud answered, sitting down on the back of a bench with his feet on the seat. "I never was very good with them, was I? Some leader, who runs away from all his responsibilities just because he knows they aren't really his at all."
"Them?"
"People… I don't understand humans. I tried, I… tried being like him for a while. But humans are so strong, aren't they. They walk around for a few years, nearly blind, almost deaf, and totally unable to comprehend anything beyond that which they believe to be reality, and they don't know just how lucky they are, to be happy like that."
Not understanding, Vincent sat on the bench beside his old friend. "Hojo did this to me, too. But it doesn't stop me from being human, not really." He argued, knowing how hard it had been to realise that small fact. In fact, he was pretty sure Cloud had been the one to tell him as much in the first place. His hands eventually came to rest on his lap, with his eyes. "Just because you're different doesn't mean you can't have friends. Would you really want Hojo to have the final revenge?"
Strands of golden silk slipped across his shoulder as Cloud turned to look away. Neither spoke for a moment as the North Corel train pulled in at the platform behind them. Then Vincent heard the younger man's soft voice as if it were a lot further away.
"Cancer has to be one of the most horrible ways to die, having your cells slowly turn against themselves, unable to stop, until there's no way you can recover. It's caused by the bodies healing mechanism, you know. It isn't really malicious, there's no intent to harm. It just… happens." He said, with no implicit feeling, almost as if reciting from a textbook. Cloud had studied at one of the best universities in the world, Shinra might have been unbelievably selfish, but they knew what to do with his sort of intelligence.
As someone had once said, he might have made a good scientist.
"Is this about Marlene?" Vincent asked, expecting the little shrug that was returned.
"But what if you couldn't get cancer, what if it was so impossible that it would make you a perfect test specimen. Perhaps somebody didn't really understand why his experiments constantly went wrong, and just tried harder until the experiments took second place to revenge. Vincent, Hojo didn't do this to me. Neither did Jenova, although it didn't stop them trying. But I have nothing to be sad about, you know, not for myself. At least I can help in some ways."
And without another word he disappeared, headed toward the train as it prepared to depart. Steam cut off Vincent's view of the exact carriage he was on, but it didn't matter. He had enough to think about already.
*
Now would be his opportunity to discover exactly what Cloud had been talking about, and as he thought, he never even noticed that his feet had carried him to the edge of the city. There was a tent not four hundred metres away; once again, he had fallen upon the correct path.
The dark canvas moved like waves in the wind, and was obviously unoccupied, since the flap was wide open. Walking around it to see whether or not he'd been left a message he nearly stepped on a small patch of golden flowers, the same kind that surrounded Zack's shrine. Stooping, he pushed aside a handful of the new blooms, unsure of what he was looking for. But he could feel that the earth was recently disturbed, and there was a strong smell of blood.
Cloud had been leading him here all along. He hadn't realised it, but somehow that was the explanation that made most sense. If that was the case then he would probably be in the city already. Moaning not-so internally as he hiked the shoulder strap further up, Vincent left camp and headed into the darkness.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Author's bored: Of writing. For now… Plus I just had to get all the back-story flashbacky bits over with.
Gaaah, sooo many flowers. (You can tell that I, appreciated, Aerith as a character, huh. I personally never thought she was that happy, or sweet. But then, I'm weird. ^_^)
Halloo Swordy! Glad you finally found this place, and keep on with Ends of the Earth…
Next bit's just as trippy. I can't stand fanfics that end up as soap-opera worthy, unoriginal, 50 chapter Angst/Yawnfests. (Cloud looked down into his soup, it reminded him of how his whole life was utterly meaningless, so he left it, and went to suddenly start a pointless and unexplainable relationship with Cid / sulk to himself over Aerith/Zack/Barret's grave….. bleagh.) Especially when they get 300+reviews. (maybe I'm just Jealous ;P) This whole story is my counter to them. Spot the subtle meaningful comments!
Actually, with the previous comment, that is actually far more prevelant in the Gundam stuff. But there are a few here.
50% Proof, 45% Knob Jokes, 5% Cutting Social Commentary.
Hasta la peanuts…
