Author's Note: This originally was just one long story, but for convenience
I've decided to split it into several parts, and post them within a few
days of each other. Thanks to darknightdestiny for the idea of splitting it
up, it IS more manageable this way. I'm not gonna lie, this is a very dark
demented fic. It has an 'R' rating due to its general twisted-ness, gore,
and Hojo's potty-mouth. You've been warned...
Part four is here, and I hate to say that things aren't looking up for either of our characters right now. Vincent and Hojo speak of morality and what-not, an appearance by the mother of all growing pains, and MORE general twisted-ness.
I just want to say thanks to everyone that's still reading this. It's been a long, weird trip, and it's not going to be over anytime soon.
~ Rene (seasonofthepumpkin)
* * *
Vincent sat slouched down on the floor in the corner, cradling his noticeably extended stump. Hojo had left the wrapping off to allow it the freedom to extend itself further, and now it had grown a startling 5 inches from the elbow downwards in the only 2 hours. This arm wasn't really different than his previous one, not that he could see anyway. Sure it was thinner, frailer, paler, but it was the beginning of an arm. If it continued at this rate, in an hour or so he'd have a new completely formed arm.
Hojo had accredited this little miracle to JENOVA as well, reasoning that she thought him more useful with two arms. He had not left Vincent's side this entire time, despite Vincent's protests. Even now he sat only a few inches or so away in an office chair, taking copious notes while keeping an eye on him simultaneously.
" Amputation of the L. forearm a success, regeneration d/t J cells. Post op. condition is fair, spec. PC complaint of movement in stump, med. given p.r.n." He scrawled messily, glancing down at Vincent who sat gloomily at his feet sulking. "Any new complaints?'
"Didn't you get the hint when I moved over here? I want to be alone." Vincent said sulkily, his brow lowered in a scowl. "I do not want you constantly breathing down my neck, and I'll thank you to leave."
Not even looking up from his notes, he evenly replied to Vincent's cranky remark. "Feh, you'll take that back the minute you have any complications. I know I'm not your favorite person in the world; hell, I'm probably at the top of your shit list right now, but you need me, as little as you want to admit it." The drugs had worn off for the most part, and Vincent had become more vocal, although everything that he uttered was either a lament for Lucrecia, or a cut towards Hojo, always on her behalf.
Never for himself; Hojo could call him all the dirty names in the book, and he'd never blink an eye, but the minute he mentioned Crecia he'd snap to attention with a spiteful comment. He'd even take things directed towards him, or things that had no relevance, and twist them around to speak of her. Did the man have so little self-respect? When Hojo had wanted to break him, he'd wanted to dash Vincent's ego into the ground, crush any feeling of worth he had ever had, but he had been beaten to that. Vincent simply had no desire to reply to verbal attacks to himself, but he would not hesitate to remind Hojo of what he had done to his lover.
Was she all he ever thought about? Did he think of anything without her being a part of it? Had it always been this way, or was it the result of losing her? Grief did strange things to a man, he reasoned, scribbling his notes erratically, the usually neat handwriting almost illegible.
"I don't need you...just leave me alone. I never asked you to save me anyway, I would have been happy to take leave of this body and go to her. So just shove off. "
"Try to help someone, and see how they repay you...such an ungrateful man. Y'know, I do feel sorry for you, in my own way, but I'm not sorry for what I did." Hojo almost smiled at Vincent's cynical expression, but wisely held it back.
"Sorry? What a joke. Being sorry is all well and fine, but tell me, Professor. Will remorse bring her back? Will remorse undo what you did to her?"
"You're such a martyr. Unconcerned with your own welfare, only with hers, like always. Of course I'm sorry she died, did you think I wasn't? Don't you think if I had the choice I would have chosen to keep her alive? It's a shame she had to go, but you can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs, as heartless as it sounds. She knew the risks, she knew all of this, I warned her. She knew that there was a possibility the experiment would be fatal, but that didn't stop her, bless the woman. Anyway, why do you always assume I speak of her? I'm sorry she died, I miss her, but I only did what I had to do. However, I was referring to you earlier, but I suppose the statement would cover her too," Setting his notes down, Hojo fixed him with a frighteningly calm eye. "I don't expect you to understand any of this, so I don't even know why I'm bothering to tell you."
"Then why are you doing it?" Vincent sat up a little straighter, in an attempt to ease the stiffness of his joints and the soreness in his back. He gave his companion a rather annoyed look, his eyes glowing red faintly, like dying embers in the hearth. "Why do you tell me all of this? I don't care if you're sorry, it doesn't change anything. Being sorry won't make everything all better again. "
"I've often wondered," Hojo continued, ignoring this comment. " Is it possible to feel sorry for your transgressions...yet you wouldn't hesitate to do it again if given the opportunity. What would you call that?"
"I'd call it evil." Vincent spat, turning his back to him, then bowing his head penitently. "Lucrecia was the best thing that ever happened to me, and you took her away from me. If you think I'll forgive you for that, you're crazier than I thought. How could you touch something so pure, and pervert it the way you did? I've often wondered how you could do something like that. But in answering your question, I answered my own."
"Hmmm, perhaps. I never claimed to be a saint after all. But I've a question for you--"
"Answer mine first. How could you do that to your own wife, whom you claimed to love? And to her son...your son, your own flesh and blood! She trusted you! She trusted you with her life, offering her body for you to use as a goddamned test tube... How could you take her trust in you, and betray it the way you did? How could anyone?" Vincent interrupted fiercely, the faint glow of his eyes becoming a more intense vermilion as he whipped his head around to stare at his captor.
"I told you. She knew the risks, this was what she wanted. She wanted to be a part of this experiment, it meant so much to her, it made her happy. Who was I to deny her happiness, to push her around, to make her decisions for her? As for the child, his only purpose, the only reason he was even conceived was for the Project, and she accepted that.
You say I betrayed him too, in betraying her...well, is Lucrecia blameless in all of this? She was, after all, his mother, and agreed to all of this. Babies are really little more than parasites, feeding off their host, the mother. But parasites are also utterly dependent on their host, therefore in the act of leeching off of them, they commit their life into their host's hands, do they not? Isn't that a form of trust? Ah, that also sums up our relationship pretty completely, if you ask me. But to the point; If I'm evil for betraying Lucrecia's trust, what is she for betraying that child's then? Answer that."
"You sick--"
"Yes, I'm a sick man. Very sick. In fact, I disagree with Gast's earlier theory that JENOVA was a Cetra...I believe she was also a disease, or at least a carrier...a communicable mental illness...a form of contagious insanity, even a parasite, like a baby. Yes, even JENOVA is dependent for certain things. Mental illness. She is quite similar to one, if you think about it. Voices in the head are commonly recognized as a sign of mental illness, and the sense of disembodiment and loss of control...well, that is too. But she's more than just a mental illness...she's--"
"Evil, just as you are. Two conspirators, accomplices, responsible for my Crecia's demise. And you knew what she was! You knew she would do this to her, knew it would kill her..."
"I didn't expect it to kill her. I never wanted her to die, I still loved her...I did! Deny it, try to disprove it all you want to, but I still loved her in my own way! Truth be known, I never thought it would really kill her, although I knew there was a risk. So? There is risk in everything! Risks should not discourage us from living our lives, therefore I didn't see why we should let the fact there was a slight risk involved hinder us.
I only injected it into the baby, and into her womb. I planned to remove the uterus as soon as possible following the birth, to clean out any trace of the JENOVA. Of course I knew that the baby and mother share the same blood, but I didn't think it would kill her even if she had JENOVA in her bloodstream.
Hell, it didn't kill me, did it? I'm standing before you large as life, and I took the injections even longer than she did. And I shot it straight into my veins. She just affects different people different ways... With one thing in common of course. She talks to us, all of us.
But I never thought it would hurt her...although I didn't know then what I know now..." He sighed, shaking his head slowly, smiling sadly. Why had he survived, when his precious wife had to die? He had asked JENOVA this, and she had responded that he simply was more worthy than she was, that she had a limited use, and her use-fullness would end soon. Her engagement was coming to a close, the gig was up. After all, didn't Mother know best?
"...murderer..."
"Let me see that arm," he interjected, rising from his chair. Hojo leaned over the sullen Vincent, grasping his upper arm only to be shook off. "Let me see it, I have to make sure it's coming along all right."
"I don't care if it comes along all right or not. Just stay away from me."
"Look, I'm trying to help you out a bit here, and you spit it back into my face? You are totally ungrateful."
"Why do you help me anyway? You hate me, and I hate you, and you know what? That's the way it's going to stay. If you think for one moment I'll forgive you for what you did to Lucrecia, you're dead wrong. I'll never forgive you for that. No matter what." He hissed this venomously, with more anger than he had displayed all evening. He'd never forgive this bastard, what he had done was inexcusable. He had taken 'Crecia's trust and abused it, ground it into the dirt, spat on it, and left it there to rot for good measure.
"Did I ever ask you to forgive me? I never said I wanted you to. I don't care if you hate me or not; I did what I had to do, and I'll never regret it. I'll stand by what I did till the day I die. Even if what I did hurt me..." Hojo's voice broke on that, but he quickly composed himself, resuming his professional air. "I'll always hate you, Valentine. You don't understand how horrible what you did was. You only saw your own wants; you never once stopped to think that your actions might affect others. What you did was totally selfish, you took something from me I never will have again, something I needed, and not only for my research. I needed her love, Valentine, I needed her. And you took her. I was selfish too, selfish for wanting her to stay with me when she could have you. Love is selfish. It's ironic such a noble thing as love can be synonymous with something as vile as selfishness, but that's the way it is. Well, you only saw your side of things, so I suppose I'm entitled to do the same. You'll say I must not have valued her very much if I let her expose herself to the JENOVA, but I already told you why I did that. I let her do it because I wanted her to be happy. I wanted her to be happy because I loved her, and wanted her to love me. Yes, I am selfish. I thought only of my own happiness while pretending it was for her happiness. But you were just as selfish. You have no room to talk."
Vincent made no comment on this, so Hojo took the liberty to speak further.
"As for hating you, yes, I hate you. I hate you because you took her, because you waltzed into my life and danced out with her love. I hate you for winning her love, for being my rival. But at the same time I...I...ah, I don't know what I am trying to say. I've felt this way lots of times in my few years on this planet.
Take our dear friend JENOVA. I've slaved over her, given her everything I have, only to have her crush my gifts, spit in my face, and then she had the balls to pick you, of all people, to do her work as well. And yet, I still worship her. True, I don't like her very much, she's as selfish as the day is long, but I love her in my own weak way. I hate her at times, I grow weary of her selfishness, her ungratefulness, and I balk against her. But I always go crawling back, now don't I?
How about Lucrecia? She told me she loved me, that she always would, and I don't think I have to tell you what happened next. I gave her what I could, and at least she was somewhat grateful. But the minute you came on the scene, she pulled a 'JENOVA' of her own. You know the drill; threw everything I ever gave her back in my face, took my heart and ripped it out, and of course it wouldn't be so excruciatingly complete without you to run to. I hated her for picking you, but I loved her at the same time. I pretended I didn't care, but of course I did.
And finally, there's you. You, the one who always got everything, the 'good' one, the 'noble' one, everything. I think I hate you most. In fact, I'm sure I hate you the most. Everything I ever had you managed to take. I love myself for hating you, yet I hate myself for even caring. Why do I care if the damn arm grows back? What do I care if JENOVA plucks your brain out and uses it for a rubber ball? Y'know, at least Crecia and JENOVA gave me something in return, but you, you've given me nothing but a pain in the neck and night after sleepless night of exhaustion. I've slaved over you, and you threw it back in my face. Why did I even slave over you? Either I want you to stay alive as long as possible so I can keep on hating you, or because I feel responsible for you since I've made you what you are. It's all so very confusing; I never have understood, and I think I never will."
"...I don't care about all that, and I don't blame you for hating me, I hate myself too. But I don't want your pity, I won't have it. I let her down, I got what I deserved. I hate you, I hate you on her behalf, on my behalf. I'll still never forgive you...gods, I hate myself...wish I'd die."
Vincent slouched down again, back turned to Hojo. Hojo reached for the arm again, this time meeting no resistance. He turned the Turk to face him, to better examine the clammy forearm. It had indeed grown another inch while they had been arguing, he could see the beginnings of a wrist forming. Whatever JENOVA was doing, he'd never seen anything like this before. He probably had never admired her as much as he did at the moment. Only she could do something of this magnitude; grow a human arm back from a stump, and do such a beautiful job of it as well. He thought this new arm was even better than the one nature had given Valentine. JENOVA always had been one for improving things; 'If it's not broke, don't fix it' simply wasn't her philosophy. Nor was it his, really.
Vincent bore this in stoic silence, even though Hojo knew the arm must be killing him, as rapidly as it was growing. The great grandpappy of growing pains. Of course he didn't care if it was hurting Vincent, but Hojo couldn't help but somewhat admire the way he refused to say anything about it. He squeezed the arm experimentally, satisfied that his observation had been correct; he definitely saw a wince there.
"I think she's almost done with it. Soon you'll have a hand, and it'll be like you never lost the old one. Of course this one will be better, simply cause JENOVA made it, and she always manages to run circles around the original. Such a talented girl, isn't she? Almost makes up for all of her bad points, see, slaving over her has its benefits." He let the arm drop back down to Vincent's side, and returned to his chair to add to his neglected notes.
* * *
(end part four)
Part four is here, and I hate to say that things aren't looking up for either of our characters right now. Vincent and Hojo speak of morality and what-not, an appearance by the mother of all growing pains, and MORE general twisted-ness.
I just want to say thanks to everyone that's still reading this. It's been a long, weird trip, and it's not going to be over anytime soon.
~ Rene (seasonofthepumpkin)
* * *
Vincent sat slouched down on the floor in the corner, cradling his noticeably extended stump. Hojo had left the wrapping off to allow it the freedom to extend itself further, and now it had grown a startling 5 inches from the elbow downwards in the only 2 hours. This arm wasn't really different than his previous one, not that he could see anyway. Sure it was thinner, frailer, paler, but it was the beginning of an arm. If it continued at this rate, in an hour or so he'd have a new completely formed arm.
Hojo had accredited this little miracle to JENOVA as well, reasoning that she thought him more useful with two arms. He had not left Vincent's side this entire time, despite Vincent's protests. Even now he sat only a few inches or so away in an office chair, taking copious notes while keeping an eye on him simultaneously.
" Amputation of the L. forearm a success, regeneration d/t J cells. Post op. condition is fair, spec. PC complaint of movement in stump, med. given p.r.n." He scrawled messily, glancing down at Vincent who sat gloomily at his feet sulking. "Any new complaints?'
"Didn't you get the hint when I moved over here? I want to be alone." Vincent said sulkily, his brow lowered in a scowl. "I do not want you constantly breathing down my neck, and I'll thank you to leave."
Not even looking up from his notes, he evenly replied to Vincent's cranky remark. "Feh, you'll take that back the minute you have any complications. I know I'm not your favorite person in the world; hell, I'm probably at the top of your shit list right now, but you need me, as little as you want to admit it." The drugs had worn off for the most part, and Vincent had become more vocal, although everything that he uttered was either a lament for Lucrecia, or a cut towards Hojo, always on her behalf.
Never for himself; Hojo could call him all the dirty names in the book, and he'd never blink an eye, but the minute he mentioned Crecia he'd snap to attention with a spiteful comment. He'd even take things directed towards him, or things that had no relevance, and twist them around to speak of her. Did the man have so little self-respect? When Hojo had wanted to break him, he'd wanted to dash Vincent's ego into the ground, crush any feeling of worth he had ever had, but he had been beaten to that. Vincent simply had no desire to reply to verbal attacks to himself, but he would not hesitate to remind Hojo of what he had done to his lover.
Was she all he ever thought about? Did he think of anything without her being a part of it? Had it always been this way, or was it the result of losing her? Grief did strange things to a man, he reasoned, scribbling his notes erratically, the usually neat handwriting almost illegible.
"I don't need you...just leave me alone. I never asked you to save me anyway, I would have been happy to take leave of this body and go to her. So just shove off. "
"Try to help someone, and see how they repay you...such an ungrateful man. Y'know, I do feel sorry for you, in my own way, but I'm not sorry for what I did." Hojo almost smiled at Vincent's cynical expression, but wisely held it back.
"Sorry? What a joke. Being sorry is all well and fine, but tell me, Professor. Will remorse bring her back? Will remorse undo what you did to her?"
"You're such a martyr. Unconcerned with your own welfare, only with hers, like always. Of course I'm sorry she died, did you think I wasn't? Don't you think if I had the choice I would have chosen to keep her alive? It's a shame she had to go, but you can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs, as heartless as it sounds. She knew the risks, she knew all of this, I warned her. She knew that there was a possibility the experiment would be fatal, but that didn't stop her, bless the woman. Anyway, why do you always assume I speak of her? I'm sorry she died, I miss her, but I only did what I had to do. However, I was referring to you earlier, but I suppose the statement would cover her too," Setting his notes down, Hojo fixed him with a frighteningly calm eye. "I don't expect you to understand any of this, so I don't even know why I'm bothering to tell you."
"Then why are you doing it?" Vincent sat up a little straighter, in an attempt to ease the stiffness of his joints and the soreness in his back. He gave his companion a rather annoyed look, his eyes glowing red faintly, like dying embers in the hearth. "Why do you tell me all of this? I don't care if you're sorry, it doesn't change anything. Being sorry won't make everything all better again. "
"I've often wondered," Hojo continued, ignoring this comment. " Is it possible to feel sorry for your transgressions...yet you wouldn't hesitate to do it again if given the opportunity. What would you call that?"
"I'd call it evil." Vincent spat, turning his back to him, then bowing his head penitently. "Lucrecia was the best thing that ever happened to me, and you took her away from me. If you think I'll forgive you for that, you're crazier than I thought. How could you touch something so pure, and pervert it the way you did? I've often wondered how you could do something like that. But in answering your question, I answered my own."
"Hmmm, perhaps. I never claimed to be a saint after all. But I've a question for you--"
"Answer mine first. How could you do that to your own wife, whom you claimed to love? And to her son...your son, your own flesh and blood! She trusted you! She trusted you with her life, offering her body for you to use as a goddamned test tube... How could you take her trust in you, and betray it the way you did? How could anyone?" Vincent interrupted fiercely, the faint glow of his eyes becoming a more intense vermilion as he whipped his head around to stare at his captor.
"I told you. She knew the risks, this was what she wanted. She wanted to be a part of this experiment, it meant so much to her, it made her happy. Who was I to deny her happiness, to push her around, to make her decisions for her? As for the child, his only purpose, the only reason he was even conceived was for the Project, and she accepted that.
You say I betrayed him too, in betraying her...well, is Lucrecia blameless in all of this? She was, after all, his mother, and agreed to all of this. Babies are really little more than parasites, feeding off their host, the mother. But parasites are also utterly dependent on their host, therefore in the act of leeching off of them, they commit their life into their host's hands, do they not? Isn't that a form of trust? Ah, that also sums up our relationship pretty completely, if you ask me. But to the point; If I'm evil for betraying Lucrecia's trust, what is she for betraying that child's then? Answer that."
"You sick--"
"Yes, I'm a sick man. Very sick. In fact, I disagree with Gast's earlier theory that JENOVA was a Cetra...I believe she was also a disease, or at least a carrier...a communicable mental illness...a form of contagious insanity, even a parasite, like a baby. Yes, even JENOVA is dependent for certain things. Mental illness. She is quite similar to one, if you think about it. Voices in the head are commonly recognized as a sign of mental illness, and the sense of disembodiment and loss of control...well, that is too. But she's more than just a mental illness...she's--"
"Evil, just as you are. Two conspirators, accomplices, responsible for my Crecia's demise. And you knew what she was! You knew she would do this to her, knew it would kill her..."
"I didn't expect it to kill her. I never wanted her to die, I still loved her...I did! Deny it, try to disprove it all you want to, but I still loved her in my own way! Truth be known, I never thought it would really kill her, although I knew there was a risk. So? There is risk in everything! Risks should not discourage us from living our lives, therefore I didn't see why we should let the fact there was a slight risk involved hinder us.
I only injected it into the baby, and into her womb. I planned to remove the uterus as soon as possible following the birth, to clean out any trace of the JENOVA. Of course I knew that the baby and mother share the same blood, but I didn't think it would kill her even if she had JENOVA in her bloodstream.
Hell, it didn't kill me, did it? I'm standing before you large as life, and I took the injections even longer than she did. And I shot it straight into my veins. She just affects different people different ways... With one thing in common of course. She talks to us, all of us.
But I never thought it would hurt her...although I didn't know then what I know now..." He sighed, shaking his head slowly, smiling sadly. Why had he survived, when his precious wife had to die? He had asked JENOVA this, and she had responded that he simply was more worthy than she was, that she had a limited use, and her use-fullness would end soon. Her engagement was coming to a close, the gig was up. After all, didn't Mother know best?
"...murderer..."
"Let me see that arm," he interjected, rising from his chair. Hojo leaned over the sullen Vincent, grasping his upper arm only to be shook off. "Let me see it, I have to make sure it's coming along all right."
"I don't care if it comes along all right or not. Just stay away from me."
"Look, I'm trying to help you out a bit here, and you spit it back into my face? You are totally ungrateful."
"Why do you help me anyway? You hate me, and I hate you, and you know what? That's the way it's going to stay. If you think for one moment I'll forgive you for what you did to Lucrecia, you're dead wrong. I'll never forgive you for that. No matter what." He hissed this venomously, with more anger than he had displayed all evening. He'd never forgive this bastard, what he had done was inexcusable. He had taken 'Crecia's trust and abused it, ground it into the dirt, spat on it, and left it there to rot for good measure.
"Did I ever ask you to forgive me? I never said I wanted you to. I don't care if you hate me or not; I did what I had to do, and I'll never regret it. I'll stand by what I did till the day I die. Even if what I did hurt me..." Hojo's voice broke on that, but he quickly composed himself, resuming his professional air. "I'll always hate you, Valentine. You don't understand how horrible what you did was. You only saw your own wants; you never once stopped to think that your actions might affect others. What you did was totally selfish, you took something from me I never will have again, something I needed, and not only for my research. I needed her love, Valentine, I needed her. And you took her. I was selfish too, selfish for wanting her to stay with me when she could have you. Love is selfish. It's ironic such a noble thing as love can be synonymous with something as vile as selfishness, but that's the way it is. Well, you only saw your side of things, so I suppose I'm entitled to do the same. You'll say I must not have valued her very much if I let her expose herself to the JENOVA, but I already told you why I did that. I let her do it because I wanted her to be happy. I wanted her to be happy because I loved her, and wanted her to love me. Yes, I am selfish. I thought only of my own happiness while pretending it was for her happiness. But you were just as selfish. You have no room to talk."
Vincent made no comment on this, so Hojo took the liberty to speak further.
"As for hating you, yes, I hate you. I hate you because you took her, because you waltzed into my life and danced out with her love. I hate you for winning her love, for being my rival. But at the same time I...I...ah, I don't know what I am trying to say. I've felt this way lots of times in my few years on this planet.
Take our dear friend JENOVA. I've slaved over her, given her everything I have, only to have her crush my gifts, spit in my face, and then she had the balls to pick you, of all people, to do her work as well. And yet, I still worship her. True, I don't like her very much, she's as selfish as the day is long, but I love her in my own weak way. I hate her at times, I grow weary of her selfishness, her ungratefulness, and I balk against her. But I always go crawling back, now don't I?
How about Lucrecia? She told me she loved me, that she always would, and I don't think I have to tell you what happened next. I gave her what I could, and at least she was somewhat grateful. But the minute you came on the scene, she pulled a 'JENOVA' of her own. You know the drill; threw everything I ever gave her back in my face, took my heart and ripped it out, and of course it wouldn't be so excruciatingly complete without you to run to. I hated her for picking you, but I loved her at the same time. I pretended I didn't care, but of course I did.
And finally, there's you. You, the one who always got everything, the 'good' one, the 'noble' one, everything. I think I hate you most. In fact, I'm sure I hate you the most. Everything I ever had you managed to take. I love myself for hating you, yet I hate myself for even caring. Why do I care if the damn arm grows back? What do I care if JENOVA plucks your brain out and uses it for a rubber ball? Y'know, at least Crecia and JENOVA gave me something in return, but you, you've given me nothing but a pain in the neck and night after sleepless night of exhaustion. I've slaved over you, and you threw it back in my face. Why did I even slave over you? Either I want you to stay alive as long as possible so I can keep on hating you, or because I feel responsible for you since I've made you what you are. It's all so very confusing; I never have understood, and I think I never will."
"...I don't care about all that, and I don't blame you for hating me, I hate myself too. But I don't want your pity, I won't have it. I let her down, I got what I deserved. I hate you, I hate you on her behalf, on my behalf. I'll still never forgive you...gods, I hate myself...wish I'd die."
Vincent slouched down again, back turned to Hojo. Hojo reached for the arm again, this time meeting no resistance. He turned the Turk to face him, to better examine the clammy forearm. It had indeed grown another inch while they had been arguing, he could see the beginnings of a wrist forming. Whatever JENOVA was doing, he'd never seen anything like this before. He probably had never admired her as much as he did at the moment. Only she could do something of this magnitude; grow a human arm back from a stump, and do such a beautiful job of it as well. He thought this new arm was even better than the one nature had given Valentine. JENOVA always had been one for improving things; 'If it's not broke, don't fix it' simply wasn't her philosophy. Nor was it his, really.
Vincent bore this in stoic silence, even though Hojo knew the arm must be killing him, as rapidly as it was growing. The great grandpappy of growing pains. Of course he didn't care if it was hurting Vincent, but Hojo couldn't help but somewhat admire the way he refused to say anything about it. He squeezed the arm experimentally, satisfied that his observation had been correct; he definitely saw a wince there.
"I think she's almost done with it. Soon you'll have a hand, and it'll be like you never lost the old one. Of course this one will be better, simply cause JENOVA made it, and she always manages to run circles around the original. Such a talented girl, isn't she? Almost makes up for all of her bad points, see, slaving over her has its benefits." He let the arm drop back down to Vincent's side, and returned to his chair to add to his neglected notes.
* * *
(end part four)