Disclaimer: Sqauresoft owns everything. In case you didn't know.
Author's Note: Boy, I just love the reviews! I am a review junkie, and proud of it! Hopefully, this chapter will tie up some loose ends. Aside from that, we'll just see where this takes us, shall we? Oh, and Vincent does not count as a new character. He was already in a previous chapter. Just FYI.
Chapter 8:
Disturbance
Dimly, it called him.
From somewhere deep inside his sleep, a small noise drew him forth. One eye opened wearily, and all he saw was darkness. A clawed hand stretched out to open the only exit from his chosen redemption, and a more human hand reached out after it. Both hands were needed to pull the man up out of his slumber, and his tired eyes glowed a menacing red in the dark room.
Something had woken him. What was it? That noise was almost familiar.
Oh, yes. A telephone. That's what it was.
Vincent walked calmly into an adjoining room beneath the Nibelheim Mansion and picked up a dusty old receiver.
"Yes?" His voice sounded hoarse, even to himself. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Yes?" An improvement.
Silence on the other end. For so long that most people would have hung up or repeated themselves. Then again, most people were not Vincent. One thing he had in abundance was patience, if nothing else.
A deep breath came over the speaker, and a soft voice said, "Vincent? Is that you?"
His breathing stopped. He could do that, sometimes, when he wasn't careful. Hojo's experiments had made many mundane tasks unnecessary to him. An advantage when planning to live in a coffin for about three decades.
"Vincent?" The vice was tentative, as if unsure of it's welcome. Vincent fought hard and long not to hang up. He had outright rejected her. What more could she ask of him? He let her be with the man she loved, thus condemning himself for as long as he lived. That was shaping up to be a long haul, by the look of things. He no longer aged, ate, drank, breathed, or even bled as most normal people did. Sure, he could eat, drink, and breathe when he wanted. But he could not control his blood. It kept it's own council. And, of course, he hadn't aged a day in years. Knowing that it might very well be impossible for him to die unless under extreme circumstances, he willingly chose to give her up to the man of her choosing. Now, she called him. Women.
"Yes?" he repeated. No other words seemed necessary.
A sigh. "I thought you would hang up."
"The thought crossed my mind."
Silence. "I… I hope I'm not causing a disturbance."
Vincent remained silent. Nothing to say to that.
"Well, I just called to… to ask a favor."
Again, the temptation to hang up was strong. He held his tongue once more.
"You see, Hojo-"
"No."
Silence. "What?"
"No."
"No what?"
"Don't speak of Hojo."
Silence. "But I need to."
"Find another way."
Silence. "Umm… okay. Sephiroth was kidnapped."
Vincent's mouth opened slightly in surprise. So, this was what this was about. Hojo, damn him, had taken his child and began to experiment on him. That boy could end up malformed due to Hojo's… unique way of dealing with 'specimens'. However… it was none of his concern. The boy did belong to Hojo as much as it belonged to Lucrecia. That thought brought him back to reality, and it was with no small amount of malice that he replied, "By your love?"
A sharp intake of breath. "Don't call him that."
Interesting development. "Why not?"
"He's not my love." Before his brain completely registered that statement, she quickly added, "I can't focus on love now. If I have to choose between my son and him, I'll choose Sephiroth. I need to focus on getting Sephiroth safely home. I can't love anyone right now."
Her words lanced through his heart, leaving a sharp pain behind. But she seemed unknowing of the implication of her words, and he let it pass.
"I'm sorry."
"Vincent?" she asked. "Vincent, I-"
He took the phone away from his ear and put it down slowly. The receiver hung up with an audible click, then resumed it's silent position. He hung his head, raven hair spilling forward to cover his face. It was an action he used too often, though he didn't realize it.
She wouldn't call again. That he was sure of.
Had he made the right decision? He could not tell. But now, at least, he wouldn't have to look at Lucrecia once more. He wouldn't have to see her face and imagine her with another man. He wouldn't have to see the look of love on her face, plain for anyone to see, directed at another. He wouldn't have to hear the sound of her voice, soft and rich and soothing.
Vincent turned around and walked back into his familiar room. The coffin lid was still open, and he climbed back inside. His hands reached up and moved the door down. He laid his head back and looked up at the ceiling. Two red coals glowed in the dark. He gazed at their reflections until he found himself drifting off to sleep.
Images of Lucrecia played inside his mind while he drifted off.
Author's Note: Boy, I just love the reviews! I am a review junkie, and proud of it! Hopefully, this chapter will tie up some loose ends. Aside from that, we'll just see where this takes us, shall we? Oh, and Vincent does not count as a new character. He was already in a previous chapter. Just FYI.
Chapter 8:
Disturbance
Dimly, it called him.
From somewhere deep inside his sleep, a small noise drew him forth. One eye opened wearily, and all he saw was darkness. A clawed hand stretched out to open the only exit from his chosen redemption, and a more human hand reached out after it. Both hands were needed to pull the man up out of his slumber, and his tired eyes glowed a menacing red in the dark room.
Something had woken him. What was it? That noise was almost familiar.
Oh, yes. A telephone. That's what it was.
Vincent walked calmly into an adjoining room beneath the Nibelheim Mansion and picked up a dusty old receiver.
"Yes?" His voice sounded hoarse, even to himself. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Yes?" An improvement.
Silence on the other end. For so long that most people would have hung up or repeated themselves. Then again, most people were not Vincent. One thing he had in abundance was patience, if nothing else.
A deep breath came over the speaker, and a soft voice said, "Vincent? Is that you?"
His breathing stopped. He could do that, sometimes, when he wasn't careful. Hojo's experiments had made many mundane tasks unnecessary to him. An advantage when planning to live in a coffin for about three decades.
"Vincent?" The vice was tentative, as if unsure of it's welcome. Vincent fought hard and long not to hang up. He had outright rejected her. What more could she ask of him? He let her be with the man she loved, thus condemning himself for as long as he lived. That was shaping up to be a long haul, by the look of things. He no longer aged, ate, drank, breathed, or even bled as most normal people did. Sure, he could eat, drink, and breathe when he wanted. But he could not control his blood. It kept it's own council. And, of course, he hadn't aged a day in years. Knowing that it might very well be impossible for him to die unless under extreme circumstances, he willingly chose to give her up to the man of her choosing. Now, she called him. Women.
"Yes?" he repeated. No other words seemed necessary.
A sigh. "I thought you would hang up."
"The thought crossed my mind."
Silence. "I… I hope I'm not causing a disturbance."
Vincent remained silent. Nothing to say to that.
"Well, I just called to… to ask a favor."
Again, the temptation to hang up was strong. He held his tongue once more.
"You see, Hojo-"
"No."
Silence. "What?"
"No."
"No what?"
"Don't speak of Hojo."
Silence. "But I need to."
"Find another way."
Silence. "Umm… okay. Sephiroth was kidnapped."
Vincent's mouth opened slightly in surprise. So, this was what this was about. Hojo, damn him, had taken his child and began to experiment on him. That boy could end up malformed due to Hojo's… unique way of dealing with 'specimens'. However… it was none of his concern. The boy did belong to Hojo as much as it belonged to Lucrecia. That thought brought him back to reality, and it was with no small amount of malice that he replied, "By your love?"
A sharp intake of breath. "Don't call him that."
Interesting development. "Why not?"
"He's not my love." Before his brain completely registered that statement, she quickly added, "I can't focus on love now. If I have to choose between my son and him, I'll choose Sephiroth. I need to focus on getting Sephiroth safely home. I can't love anyone right now."
Her words lanced through his heart, leaving a sharp pain behind. But she seemed unknowing of the implication of her words, and he let it pass.
"I'm sorry."
"Vincent?" she asked. "Vincent, I-"
He took the phone away from his ear and put it down slowly. The receiver hung up with an audible click, then resumed it's silent position. He hung his head, raven hair spilling forward to cover his face. It was an action he used too often, though he didn't realize it.
She wouldn't call again. That he was sure of.
Had he made the right decision? He could not tell. But now, at least, he wouldn't have to look at Lucrecia once more. He wouldn't have to see her face and imagine her with another man. He wouldn't have to see the look of love on her face, plain for anyone to see, directed at another. He wouldn't have to hear the sound of her voice, soft and rich and soothing.
Vincent turned around and walked back into his familiar room. The coffin lid was still open, and he climbed back inside. His hands reached up and moved the door down. He laid his head back and looked up at the ceiling. Two red coals glowed in the dark. He gazed at their reflections until he found himself drifting off to sleep.
Images of Lucrecia played inside his mind while he drifted off.