Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own anything even remotely associated with Final Fantasy VII. I may have kidnapped Vincent for this story, but he's not mine to keep. All characters not in the game are mine, so if anybody else wants to use 'em (god only knows why) they gotta ask me first. Thanks. Now, read.
Chapter Fifteen: A Midnight Conversation
by thelittletree
The early morning was crisp and cloudless, promising another day of sunshine. Once she had showered, dressed and eaten, Elira tidied up her apartment for the last time and wrote a note to leave with her key for Benita, to let her know she could have her perishable food. At the door, she slipped into her sneakers and her jacket before taking one parting glance at the place that had been her home for almost four years. Unlike Benita, she had a hard time not looking back.
After a few moments she turned and, taking a breath, slung an old backpack over her shoulder that she had stuffed with clothing and various other necessities; the tranquilizer darts she had slipped into some of its outside pockets and the gun itself she had strapped securely within reach. The pack was a weighty presence she wasn't accustomed to, but she imagined that, by the end of this, she would barely even notice it. A small hunting knife Vincent had bought her was also unfamiliar company, hanging in its own sheath from her hip. She shrugged a little, as if trying to get the new accessories to fit properly, before walking out her door.
Vincent was waiting for her outside of the shop, wearing the food satchel, the collapsible tent, and a bag she presumed carried the other things he'd purchased along with whatever else he'd packed. Once she'd locked the door behind her, he handed her a water bottle she could carry on a thin belt across her body. She smiled as she slipped it over her head. "How long have you been here?"
"Not long."
She glanced at the sky, still gray with the approaching dawn. Vincent followed her gaze. "The sun will be up by the time we leave the city," he observed quietly. "We should get going."
Elira nodded and they headed for the train station.
The train they caught dropped them off about a half hour's walk from the outer wall. The guard at the last iron doors didn't ask their business before letting them through and Elira guessed they looked enough like hunters to give them an inferred excuse. As they started north along the dirt road, she tried not to listen for the resonant boom of the heavy doors closing behind them.
The pace Vincent set was brisk and though Elira knew it would eventually have her panting, especially in the growing heat of a spring morning that lacked the tang of the wind, she said nothing about it to him. The last thing she wanted was to give him a reason to change his mind about letting her come. So she walked beside him doggedly and, hoping to keep her mind occupied with other things, turned her attention to her surroundings.
The area around Neo-Midgar was mostly grassland, except for the green sea of a wood on the horizon to the northeast and the jagged peaks of the Midra mountains in their direct line of vision. Occasionally, Elira thought she could hear the retort of a hunting rifle from far away; but for that, and the intermittent call of birds flying overhead, it was quiet. Vincent seemed to have drifted into his own thoughts and, trying to keep up with his long strides, Elira didn't feel compelled to start a conversation.
She guessed that an hour and a half had passed by the time she felt she couldn't take another step without a break. Vincent had undoubtedly noticed her laboured breathing, but he hadn't made mention of it yet. With a hand to her chest, she stopped walking and waited for Vincent to stop and turn.
"I'm sorry, Vincent. I need to stop. Just for a few minutes."
He nodded and they stepped onto the grass, beside the weathered wooden fence that ran along the eastern side of the road. Elira didn't know what the fence was for, but she wondered if perhaps chocobo breeding had once come this far west. Still struggling to catch her breath, and hoping to knead a persistent stitch out of her side, she walked around on the grass for a minute or so before finally sitting down and pulling the cap off of her water bottle. Carefully, she took a few sips and sat back against a rickety post to rest.
Vincent was still staring off toward the north. Elira studied him for a moment. "You don't get tired, either, do you?"
He turned to look at her, squinting against the glare of the sun. "No."
"That must be handy." She took another small gulp of water before closing the bottle up. "How long do you think it'll take us to get to Kalm? If I'm right in assuming that we're heading that way."
"We should reach the mountains by tomorrow evening. After that, perhaps a day's walk."
"At our current pace?"
"Including stops."
"Oh." She shifted the weight of her backpack, trying to get it to settle more comfortably, and then just decided to take it off. "What's after that?"
Vincent turned away again and was silent for a moment. "We'll have to find a way across the ocean, to the Northern Continent."
Elira pursed her lips, alerted by his tone. "That's not going to be easy, is it?"
Vincent shrugged. "It depends. Has Kalm become a port town?"
"I don't know. There was a ferry port in the works when I left." As if it had just started, Elira could feel the sun beating down on the top of her head. She wondered if there was a strip of sunburnt skin across her nose. A second later, she was billowing out her coat and the feel of air moving against her skin made her sigh in relief. Vincent turned to her and she smiled. "I'm a little warm." And then she cocked her head. "Don't you get warm in all that black?"
He shook his head. "I'm not affected by heat or cold."
"Phew!" She gave a breathless chuckle. "You sure you want to get rid of this thing?"
He raised an eyebrow. Elira smiled sheepishly. "Sorry."
Vincent didn't say anything. He just turned back to the north.
They took another break to eat when the sun was overhead, and then another in the afternoon. By the time they stopped for the evening, Elira was almost too weary to eat. She was more than grateful when he offered to set her tent up for her. And that first night, she fell asleep feeling surprisingly comfortable about being outside, knowing that Vincent was standing watch nearby.
When she woke the next morning, her muscles were stiff and sore, but she made herself get up and put her bed roll away. Outside the tent, Vincent was waiting with her breakfast. Smiling her thanks, she ate hungrily, startled by her appetite. Then they packed up their camp and started along the path again.
Vincent was right about the mountains. It was the late afternoon by the time she could see the pass between the cliffs, and about an hour after sunset when they finally arrived at the foothills. With her back, legs, and shoulders throbbing, she gave up on the idea of food and let Vincent help her set up her tent under an overhanging rock. Within a few moments, she was lying down in an attempt to coax her sore, weary body to sleep.
* * *
Once Elira was settled, Vincent lowered himself to the ground in a defensible position with a rock at his back. From here he could see both the path they had come on and the road up ahead. Idly, he unholstered the Peacemaker and swept the area with his eyes before picking out a target: a smaller rock about fifty paces to the western side of the path. He aimed at it and then flipped the gun around his finger a couple of times before aiming again. Then he holstered the weapon and leaned his head back against the rock. There was only so much that one could do on watch. Last night he had walked a half mile in every direction, just to be sure there were no threats. And there had been none. He thought of the books he had packed with his few articles of clothing and debated for a moment about retrieving one. But he eventually decided against it. He didn't know what might be lurking in the mountains, and to be caught off guard, considering how easily Chaos could now break through his control, might have more consequences than he was ready to face.
After a while, however, his attention began to wander. And, as now happened with some regularity when he had nothing else to occupy him, his mind turned to thoughts of Elira the way one's eyes drift to a candle in the dark. Previously, he had banished all thoughts of her the moment they surfaced, but without her he only had his guilt and regrets. And after ten years of guilt and regrets, it was nice to have something -- someone -- to think about without the baggage of circular negative feelings.
There were particular memories that he allowed himself to dwell on, safe memories, like the conversations they'd had. At this moment, he was thinking about the day in the library when she'd said Lucrecia's name. Had he really called it out in his sleep? He hadn't had a dream about *her* in ages.
He expected the grief was still there; perhaps it would never completely leave him, so intertwined was it with his battered conscience. But Lucrecia had become like a shadow in the back of his mind, indistinct and nearly free of substance, which he was fairly sure he no longer loved. Over the years, his past with her had become like a dark cloak he shrouded himself in, something to remind him of what his bitter love could do.
And to seal him there without the hope of rescue was Chaos.
Except that Elira was trying to prove him wrong about fate; she thought he was worth rescuing. And, as if her belief was contagious, he was beginning to believe it might be possible, too. For one moment, he closed his eyes and let himself wonder tentatively what he might do if he was free...
'Vincsssent...'
Vincent snapped his eyes open and, gun suddenly in hand, he stood cautiously from behind the rock, warily searching the area. Could it have been the wind?
'I'm not out there, Vincsssent. I'm in here...'
The hair on the back of his neck prickled to attention.
'Oh, fear, yesss. I know you hate me. Let it grow. Let me out.'
He clamped down on his unease and tried to force it away from himself. "Chaos?" he murmured.
'No need to ssspeak, human. I can hear your thoughtsss.'
He lowered himself back to the ground, but kept his hand on the Peacemaker instinctively as he remained on guard. Chaos had never spoken to him before. He hadn't even realized the thing *could* speak. "What do you want?"
'Quietly, human. I'm only curiousss. Why have you left the csssity?'
At least it couldn't hear *all* of his thoughts. "Why should that bother you?"
'By itssself, it doesssn't. But there hasss been a change in your emotionsss of late that I find...' There was a sudden hissing in his mind. '...dissstasssteful. That girl hasss done sssomething to you. Ssshe isss affecting your behaviour. What isss ssshe making you do?'
"Nothing I'm not doing out of my own will."
'Don't avoid the quessstion!' It was nearly a shriek and Vincent winced, resisting the urge to cover his ears. 'Tell me where you're going.'
"It's no concern of yours where I go. This is still my body and I choose my own destinations."
There were a few beats of silence. 'Very well. If you wisssh to make thisss difficult on yourssself, I can accommodate. Enjoy the sssuffering!'
Vincent didn't have long to wonder about what Chaos was going to do. The pain was nearly instantaneous and unlike anything he'd felt before, an agonizing mixture of physical and mental anguish as the demon tried to force a transformation. Vincent had come to believe through experience that, without the bridge of his own weakness, Chaos was a prisoner in his mind; it was obvious now that he had underestimated the demon's abilities. And his fear only served to feed the demon's strength.
There was a horrible hissing laughter in his head as he staggered to his feet, fighting madly against the changes he could already feel taking over his body. His ears and teeth grew; the wings pushed against his physical frame, beneath bones and skin. Though his teeth were clenched, he knew he was screaming. How could he stop this?
Elira... Another pang of agonized fear lanced through him. Chaos knew she was here. It would kill her... Was there time to go into her pack and inject the darts himself before it was too late? It was only a few feet away. He forced his body to move, one foot in front of the other, toward the tent.
But then the wings burst out of his back, wrenching a horrible sob of pain from his throat, and he fell to the ground, writhing in mindless agony.
"Vincent! Oh my god! Vincent!"
He forced his eyes open in time to see her running barefooted across the grass toward him with the tranquilizer gun. After a moment, she stumbled to a halt and jerked the barrel up.
But the pain was coming to an end and he could hear Chaos' searing laughter in his head. 'You sssee my power. One day, ssshe will not be fassst enough.' And it began to withdraw.
Despite a sudden deadening weariness and the aching of his body, Vincent pushed himself up and raised a hand to Elira. "No! It's over! Don't shoot!"
For a moment, he was sure she was going to fire anyway out of pure adrenaline. But then she lowered the gun and he could see her shaking. Relieved, he let himself drop back to the ground and concentrated on breathing as the last vestiges of the demon disappeared beneath his skin.
He sensed it when she fell to her knees beside him, and then her hands were on him as if checking for injuries. His first instinct was to shake her off, but the feel of her palms running along his sore, shuddering muscles was erasing the memory of the pain and he submitted to her.
He was almost surprised a minute later when he realized that he was falling away into unconsciousness
Chapter Fifteen: A Midnight Conversation
by thelittletree
The early morning was crisp and cloudless, promising another day of sunshine. Once she had showered, dressed and eaten, Elira tidied up her apartment for the last time and wrote a note to leave with her key for Benita, to let her know she could have her perishable food. At the door, she slipped into her sneakers and her jacket before taking one parting glance at the place that had been her home for almost four years. Unlike Benita, she had a hard time not looking back.
After a few moments she turned and, taking a breath, slung an old backpack over her shoulder that she had stuffed with clothing and various other necessities; the tranquilizer darts she had slipped into some of its outside pockets and the gun itself she had strapped securely within reach. The pack was a weighty presence she wasn't accustomed to, but she imagined that, by the end of this, she would barely even notice it. A small hunting knife Vincent had bought her was also unfamiliar company, hanging in its own sheath from her hip. She shrugged a little, as if trying to get the new accessories to fit properly, before walking out her door.
Vincent was waiting for her outside of the shop, wearing the food satchel, the collapsible tent, and a bag she presumed carried the other things he'd purchased along with whatever else he'd packed. Once she'd locked the door behind her, he handed her a water bottle she could carry on a thin belt across her body. She smiled as she slipped it over her head. "How long have you been here?"
"Not long."
She glanced at the sky, still gray with the approaching dawn. Vincent followed her gaze. "The sun will be up by the time we leave the city," he observed quietly. "We should get going."
Elira nodded and they headed for the train station.
The train they caught dropped them off about a half hour's walk from the outer wall. The guard at the last iron doors didn't ask their business before letting them through and Elira guessed they looked enough like hunters to give them an inferred excuse. As they started north along the dirt road, she tried not to listen for the resonant boom of the heavy doors closing behind them.
The pace Vincent set was brisk and though Elira knew it would eventually have her panting, especially in the growing heat of a spring morning that lacked the tang of the wind, she said nothing about it to him. The last thing she wanted was to give him a reason to change his mind about letting her come. So she walked beside him doggedly and, hoping to keep her mind occupied with other things, turned her attention to her surroundings.
The area around Neo-Midgar was mostly grassland, except for the green sea of a wood on the horizon to the northeast and the jagged peaks of the Midra mountains in their direct line of vision. Occasionally, Elira thought she could hear the retort of a hunting rifle from far away; but for that, and the intermittent call of birds flying overhead, it was quiet. Vincent seemed to have drifted into his own thoughts and, trying to keep up with his long strides, Elira didn't feel compelled to start a conversation.
She guessed that an hour and a half had passed by the time she felt she couldn't take another step without a break. Vincent had undoubtedly noticed her laboured breathing, but he hadn't made mention of it yet. With a hand to her chest, she stopped walking and waited for Vincent to stop and turn.
"I'm sorry, Vincent. I need to stop. Just for a few minutes."
He nodded and they stepped onto the grass, beside the weathered wooden fence that ran along the eastern side of the road. Elira didn't know what the fence was for, but she wondered if perhaps chocobo breeding had once come this far west. Still struggling to catch her breath, and hoping to knead a persistent stitch out of her side, she walked around on the grass for a minute or so before finally sitting down and pulling the cap off of her water bottle. Carefully, she took a few sips and sat back against a rickety post to rest.
Vincent was still staring off toward the north. Elira studied him for a moment. "You don't get tired, either, do you?"
He turned to look at her, squinting against the glare of the sun. "No."
"That must be handy." She took another small gulp of water before closing the bottle up. "How long do you think it'll take us to get to Kalm? If I'm right in assuming that we're heading that way."
"We should reach the mountains by tomorrow evening. After that, perhaps a day's walk."
"At our current pace?"
"Including stops."
"Oh." She shifted the weight of her backpack, trying to get it to settle more comfortably, and then just decided to take it off. "What's after that?"
Vincent turned away again and was silent for a moment. "We'll have to find a way across the ocean, to the Northern Continent."
Elira pursed her lips, alerted by his tone. "That's not going to be easy, is it?"
Vincent shrugged. "It depends. Has Kalm become a port town?"
"I don't know. There was a ferry port in the works when I left." As if it had just started, Elira could feel the sun beating down on the top of her head. She wondered if there was a strip of sunburnt skin across her nose. A second later, she was billowing out her coat and the feel of air moving against her skin made her sigh in relief. Vincent turned to her and she smiled. "I'm a little warm." And then she cocked her head. "Don't you get warm in all that black?"
He shook his head. "I'm not affected by heat or cold."
"Phew!" She gave a breathless chuckle. "You sure you want to get rid of this thing?"
He raised an eyebrow. Elira smiled sheepishly. "Sorry."
Vincent didn't say anything. He just turned back to the north.
They took another break to eat when the sun was overhead, and then another in the afternoon. By the time they stopped for the evening, Elira was almost too weary to eat. She was more than grateful when he offered to set her tent up for her. And that first night, she fell asleep feeling surprisingly comfortable about being outside, knowing that Vincent was standing watch nearby.
When she woke the next morning, her muscles were stiff and sore, but she made herself get up and put her bed roll away. Outside the tent, Vincent was waiting with her breakfast. Smiling her thanks, she ate hungrily, startled by her appetite. Then they packed up their camp and started along the path again.
Vincent was right about the mountains. It was the late afternoon by the time she could see the pass between the cliffs, and about an hour after sunset when they finally arrived at the foothills. With her back, legs, and shoulders throbbing, she gave up on the idea of food and let Vincent help her set up her tent under an overhanging rock. Within a few moments, she was lying down in an attempt to coax her sore, weary body to sleep.
* * *
Once Elira was settled, Vincent lowered himself to the ground in a defensible position with a rock at his back. From here he could see both the path they had come on and the road up ahead. Idly, he unholstered the Peacemaker and swept the area with his eyes before picking out a target: a smaller rock about fifty paces to the western side of the path. He aimed at it and then flipped the gun around his finger a couple of times before aiming again. Then he holstered the weapon and leaned his head back against the rock. There was only so much that one could do on watch. Last night he had walked a half mile in every direction, just to be sure there were no threats. And there had been none. He thought of the books he had packed with his few articles of clothing and debated for a moment about retrieving one. But he eventually decided against it. He didn't know what might be lurking in the mountains, and to be caught off guard, considering how easily Chaos could now break through his control, might have more consequences than he was ready to face.
After a while, however, his attention began to wander. And, as now happened with some regularity when he had nothing else to occupy him, his mind turned to thoughts of Elira the way one's eyes drift to a candle in the dark. Previously, he had banished all thoughts of her the moment they surfaced, but without her he only had his guilt and regrets. And after ten years of guilt and regrets, it was nice to have something -- someone -- to think about without the baggage of circular negative feelings.
There were particular memories that he allowed himself to dwell on, safe memories, like the conversations they'd had. At this moment, he was thinking about the day in the library when she'd said Lucrecia's name. Had he really called it out in his sleep? He hadn't had a dream about *her* in ages.
He expected the grief was still there; perhaps it would never completely leave him, so intertwined was it with his battered conscience. But Lucrecia had become like a shadow in the back of his mind, indistinct and nearly free of substance, which he was fairly sure he no longer loved. Over the years, his past with her had become like a dark cloak he shrouded himself in, something to remind him of what his bitter love could do.
And to seal him there without the hope of rescue was Chaos.
Except that Elira was trying to prove him wrong about fate; she thought he was worth rescuing. And, as if her belief was contagious, he was beginning to believe it might be possible, too. For one moment, he closed his eyes and let himself wonder tentatively what he might do if he was free...
'Vincsssent...'
Vincent snapped his eyes open and, gun suddenly in hand, he stood cautiously from behind the rock, warily searching the area. Could it have been the wind?
'I'm not out there, Vincsssent. I'm in here...'
The hair on the back of his neck prickled to attention.
'Oh, fear, yesss. I know you hate me. Let it grow. Let me out.'
He clamped down on his unease and tried to force it away from himself. "Chaos?" he murmured.
'No need to ssspeak, human. I can hear your thoughtsss.'
He lowered himself back to the ground, but kept his hand on the Peacemaker instinctively as he remained on guard. Chaos had never spoken to him before. He hadn't even realized the thing *could* speak. "What do you want?"
'Quietly, human. I'm only curiousss. Why have you left the csssity?'
At least it couldn't hear *all* of his thoughts. "Why should that bother you?"
'By itssself, it doesssn't. But there hasss been a change in your emotionsss of late that I find...' There was a sudden hissing in his mind. '...dissstasssteful. That girl hasss done sssomething to you. Ssshe isss affecting your behaviour. What isss ssshe making you do?'
"Nothing I'm not doing out of my own will."
'Don't avoid the quessstion!' It was nearly a shriek and Vincent winced, resisting the urge to cover his ears. 'Tell me where you're going.'
"It's no concern of yours where I go. This is still my body and I choose my own destinations."
There were a few beats of silence. 'Very well. If you wisssh to make thisss difficult on yourssself, I can accommodate. Enjoy the sssuffering!'
Vincent didn't have long to wonder about what Chaos was going to do. The pain was nearly instantaneous and unlike anything he'd felt before, an agonizing mixture of physical and mental anguish as the demon tried to force a transformation. Vincent had come to believe through experience that, without the bridge of his own weakness, Chaos was a prisoner in his mind; it was obvious now that he had underestimated the demon's abilities. And his fear only served to feed the demon's strength.
There was a horrible hissing laughter in his head as he staggered to his feet, fighting madly against the changes he could already feel taking over his body. His ears and teeth grew; the wings pushed against his physical frame, beneath bones and skin. Though his teeth were clenched, he knew he was screaming. How could he stop this?
Elira... Another pang of agonized fear lanced through him. Chaos knew she was here. It would kill her... Was there time to go into her pack and inject the darts himself before it was too late? It was only a few feet away. He forced his body to move, one foot in front of the other, toward the tent.
But then the wings burst out of his back, wrenching a horrible sob of pain from his throat, and he fell to the ground, writhing in mindless agony.
"Vincent! Oh my god! Vincent!"
He forced his eyes open in time to see her running barefooted across the grass toward him with the tranquilizer gun. After a moment, she stumbled to a halt and jerked the barrel up.
But the pain was coming to an end and he could hear Chaos' searing laughter in his head. 'You sssee my power. One day, ssshe will not be fassst enough.' And it began to withdraw.
Despite a sudden deadening weariness and the aching of his body, Vincent pushed himself up and raised a hand to Elira. "No! It's over! Don't shoot!"
For a moment, he was sure she was going to fire anyway out of pure adrenaline. But then she lowered the gun and he could see her shaking. Relieved, he let himself drop back to the ground and concentrated on breathing as the last vestiges of the demon disappeared beneath his skin.
He sensed it when she fell to her knees beside him, and then her hands were on him as if checking for injuries. His first instinct was to shake her off, but the feel of her palms running along his sore, shuddering muscles was erasing the memory of the pain and he submitted to her.
He was almost surprised a minute later when he realized that he was falling away into unconsciousness
