Ch.5 – First Sight
Vincent was lying in bed, an upturned palm lying protectively over his forehead. The jacket of his Turk suit was in a heap on the floor, and the normally impeccable white shirt he wore was now torn open over his bare chest. Through the tangles of his black hair he stared upwards at the ceiling. He had been doing so for the past three hours, ever since they had been brought back to Midgar. Now and then, he swallowed dryly. His mind was reeling. What had he done? She lived, that much he knew. The question was for how long. He'd had a burning desire to punch Tseng in the face when his superior complimented him on his performance as they journeyed from Nibelheim. But he didn't. He remained silent and bent his head slightly in acquiescence. Right now his mind was fighting a battle with itself. He remembered President Shinra's Words about the vision of fully developing the Jenova project, of all the things they would be able to accomplish with this new piece of research. What if a new ancient could be made? The ancients were beings of immense power, who knew what feats were feasible to them. And simply the spotlight of being involved in a project which re-created an ancient…! Then in his mind, he would hear that shot once again. The girl doubling over, her labcoat slowly being dyed crimson. Was it justified? Was there a justification for what he'd done? Something that'd make his wrong a right? He couldn't think. He needed to cool off, he reasoned. Have a drink. Calm down. Do anything but stay here in bed staring at the ceiling.
With a quick jolt, he sat upright and then got off the bed. Proceeding to his wardrobe, he skimmed through his various navy-blue suits with disapproval. Finally, deciding upon a simple black shirt and pants, he ran a hand through his dark hair, picked up a pair of red-tinted sunglasses and made his way out of the spacious room. Enough of being a Turk for one day.
Glowing Mako-Sticks flashed here and there accompanied by the rhythmic pounding beats on the dance floor of ARENA46. The young Turk was at the bar, letting himself be drowned both in the thought-breaking music and in drink. He stared absent-mindedly at his half-empty glass, his dark bangs falling over his eyes and was vaguely aware that the bartender was saying something to him. Something about money. His hands fumbled inside his pocket for a while, then unsteadily produced a small plastic Shinra Emplyee Card. The bartender's eyes skimmed the card for a few seconds, then widening and he dropped the card onto the counter.
"I… I'm so sorry, sir. I had no idea a person of your… status was staying here and--"
Vincent drowsily waved him away. He didn't want to remember. He didn't want to have to be a Turk for tonight. All his life this had been his dream, but tonight, he wished the dream would end and he'd wake up. He was interrupted by a sliding deftly on his shoulder but the disillusioned Turk didn't dare turn around.
"Vinnie…" whispered a silky voice near his ear. "Where have you been? You've been away for so long!"
Vincent didn't stir. He closed his eyes, letting his memory wander back to before he was a Turk. He had told her he'd gotten a job at Shinra, but at the time he didn't know if he'd make it as a Turk. How tightly they had embraced before he left. How passionate that last kiss. A regular officer in the Shinra military would still be able to see his passion, but Vincent's time was devoted solely to studying and practicing for his one goal. And he had never really met her again. He thought of her many times. Sometimes it was stronger, at other times negligible, but she had always dwelled with him. Is that why he had come here? Why he had picked this club out of all others in Midgar? Had he subconsciously been wanting to see her?
"Vince… what's wrong?"
Slowly he turned round to look at her. A slight smile formed on his lips. How she'd changed.
"Long hair." He muttered. "You used to say you hated it long."
The Turk closed his eyes, smirked and took off his red-lensed glasses.
She frowned, then giggled. An eternity passed as they watched each other. No words were said – there was only the rhythmic electronic beat of the engulfing music surrounding all. Her hand went up to his chest, sliding slowly to the back of his neck. The Turk's eyes were misty as he gazed at her. She drew close – so very close, her lips parting inviting him. A myriad of feelings, thoughts, images and emotions rushed through Vincent, sending him reeling. He looked away. She stopped, straightened up and nodded solemnly, biting her lower lip. Vincent cursed himself under his breath, put on his glasses, and left.
Before he knew it, he was running. Running blindly through the streets of Midgar. Running through the steam of exhaust pipes and ventilation ducts, through alleyways and main streets. His feet were taking him, and now he knew where. He finally stopped, panting, and leaned against a rusted lamp-post. His brow was covered in perspiration. Eventually he looked up, to contemplate the looming structure of the Shinra Tower. Adrenaline was pumping through him, suppressing the effects of the drink and clearing his mind, focusing his instincts. Checking his pockets to make sure he had retrieved his Employee Card after the bartender had dropped it, he made his way inside.