Chapter 8
Dark eyes shot open, followed by a sudden, sharp gasp. Deth sat up and stared blankly at the unfamiliar walls all around him. Shadows hid most of the room, but everything felt wrong.
First reaction: panic. He realized dimly that he was clutching the edge of the bed in a death grip, and he forced himself to let go and survey his surroundings. Although messages thrumming in his blood were telling him to bolt and not look back, he fought them down and tried to force his brain to be rational.
Where was he? A better question, what did he remember last? Okay… Well, he remembered the beach, and laughing as his best friend challenged him to a race to the water. He remembered the feeling of the sand under his feet and between his toes, remembered the hot sun, the warm wind, the umbrellas and the blue sky. He remembered thinking he was going to win, remembered the extra burst of speed and the moment just before his foot hit the water where it had rolled up the beach. And then nothing.
Had there been an accident? Nothing he could turn up in his memories pointed to one, but nothing else made sense. So was this some kind or specialty hospital then? Maybe. That was possible. He realized for the first time that he'd been holding his breath. Slowly, he let it out. Well, if this was a hospital or whatever, it would be a good idea to let the nurses or doctors know that he was awake now. However, no matter how much he tried to convince himself to put his feet down onto the floor, it would not work. He did not like it, but he was afraid.
The room he was in was not large but not small; the bed he was in occupied the center of the main wall which faced the door. On his right was a bedside table with a lamp and what seemed a broken alarm clock, and beside that a shaded window. Next to the door, still on the right hand side was a large oak chest of drawers that loomed in the dark a little too much for Deth's liking. He swallowed. There were paintings on both the right and left hand walls, but the room had little to offer of interest besides them.
It was the very faint sound of footsteps that distracted him from his thoughts. Again, he couldn't stop the fresh wave of freezing adrenaline that swept through him. Unconsciously, his fingers closed around the sheets once more.
Afterwards, he'd laugh and say that of course he hadn't been scared but the truth was that when the shadowed figure appeared in the doorway there was no other word to describe it. He thought for a second that maybe he could throw something and get away, but the part of his mind still working warned against it. So he just sat and stared as the tall, black silhouette stepped into the room.
He would always remember the shining, blood-red eyes as a stray bar of moonlight fell across them, illuminating them but nothing else. Again, running like hell seemed a feel-good option. The next thing he saw was the golden claw, and it took every ounce of his self-restraint not to yell until his lungs gave out. He was also pretty sure this man was no doctor. Vincent, seeing the boy's fear just stopped and regarded him impassively.
He watched the boy carefully, studying the kid who currently found himself in Vincent's spare bedroom. He had no wish to scare the boy, but neither did he speak.
After a minute or so of indeterminate silence, it was Deth who decided to try and break the silence.
"…Hi."
His voice didn't exactly come out the way he wanted it to, but at least he'd proved he could still speak despite his own doubts on the subject. Vincent's expression did not change.
"You're awake."
Deth nodded almost imperceptibly, not taking his eyes off Vincent.
"Umm… yeah?"
"You would doubtless like to know where you are."
It was a statement of fact, and not a question. Deth noted semi-hysterically the long cloak that brushed around his apparent captor's feet. He nodded again. Vincent took that as assent enough.
"To begin with, you are currently in the spare room of my house in lower Midgar." He waited a moment, registering the stunned silence of his inadvertent house guest.
"…My name is Vincent Valentine. You will come to no harm. How you ended up here is as much a mystery to myself as I surmise it is to you. You will remain here, however, until this situation is resolved."
He continued to watch for a moment before turning to disappear back into the pitch-black hallway from which he'd come. He did pause, though, when Deth's voice interrupted his departure.
"I want to go home."
Vincent smiled ever so faintly at the suddenly fierce determination in the boy's voice.
"…We will speak again in the morning. Sleep now."
And then he was gone. Deth watched the doorway, uncomprehending as the night swirled about him and memories played through his head again and again, desperately searching for answers.
Reno watched the kid sitting on the couch with something of wary liking. He'd finished off the cookies before starting in on just about everything and anything in Vincent's cupboards. He talked a lot, but it filled in the silences left by their third companion, the master of the one-word sentence. The kid also seemed pretty okay with everything that was going on, which baffled Reno a little, but he supposed it was just another way of dealing with things. For a fourteen year-old… he was impressed.
"…I guess I've lost about two days, then, if it's the 26th today. Everyone back in Costa Del Sol is gonna be so worried. I've gotta get back really soon."
Reno looked up and smiled.
"No sweat, kid. We'll get you there. There's just a lot of stuff that we have to put together right now, and we can't afford to lose track of you. You know, with your modest entrance and all we're not quite sure if it's safe just to let you go back."
Deth looked thoughtful.
"…I guess you're right. I just… Yeah, sorry. I understand. It's not that you guys haven't helped me so much. I just really want to go home, you know?"
"Yeah, I know." Reno couldn't help but wonder. The kid seemed to have taken to him almost instantly. It was very odd. Deth just smiled.
"So, is it true? About Vincent, I mean." Vincent was conveniently in the kitchen at the moment, and Reno smiled faintly.
"Yeah, it's true. A real life ex-AVALANCHE member."
Deth whistled.
"And I ended up in his house. What am I gonna tell my friends? They're gonna be so jealous." He laughed before turning serious again. "I mean, they're like the celebrities of the celebrities, right? They saved the Planet."
Reno nodded, but said nothing.
"I'm old enough to remember most of what life was like with Shinra, but a lot of the early stuff didn't mean anything to me. When you're ten, why would you care where your electricity comes from? I didn't know about any of the crappy stuff they were doing until afterwards, so I mean everyone's a little biased."
"…Yeah."
"Meteor and Sephiroth, though, that was something else. We all thought the world was gonna end. My mom and dad and I hid in Gongaga during the crisis; it seemed like as good a place as any to hide. They hate Shinra, my mom and dad, I mean. All the adults do. It's almost like, if AVALANCHE is so pure and good, then Shinra was the evil they had to beat, right? Sure they did bad stuff, but you know, I wonder if anything's ever really that easy."
"Nothing's ever that easy, kid." Reno's voice was a little faint, but Deth didn't appear to notice. "Anyway, don't worry too much about it. We'll make sure you get home and that nothing else happens to you."
Reno climbed to his feet from where he'd been sitting next to the couch. Deth's eyes followed him, and Reno shot him a quick grin.
"I'm just gonna go make sure our vampiric friend hasn't gotten lost in his own kitchen. I'll be back in a bit."
Deth nodded, returning the smile somewhat mischievously.
"On your way back, see if you can find me some more of that lemonade, will ya'?"
Reno laughed.
"On it."
As he closed the door behind him on his way out of the room, Reno tried not to think. He really disliked it when circumstances forced him to do that. No help for it, though. For now he had to find Valentine and make a plan of action. They still hadn't swapped information yet, so it was probably a good idea to start seeing what he could find out.
The kitchen was just down the hallway to his left, and Reno's footsteps were muffled by the long Wutaian carpet stretched across the floor. As he approached the open room, he could hear Vincent's voice, lowered but intelligible. Reno assumed he was speaking to someone on the phone, and approached even more carefully. He could make out what Vincent was saying.
"Yes, I agree. …I apologize for the short notice, of course… Tomorrow. …That will be fine. I must leave as soon as possible. …Of course. I will make the arrangements. …No, I do not wish anyone else involved. Your concern is appreciated, but not necessary. …I will. …Until then."
The phone clicked gently on to the hook, and Vincent turned around to face Reno, who was standing as casually as he could in the doorway. He met Vincent's eyes with a dead serious stare that matched the gunman's own. He did not appreciate mysterious phone calls when they might possibly jeopardize something as important as this, or possibly even his life. He did not speak, but waited for an explanation. Surprisingly, it was Vincent who gave in first.
"You know that it will not be possible to remain here, not considering everything. It will be a danger to yourself, and to all those close to you. Your trip here proved it."
Reno continued to watch Vincent, matching his stare evenly.
"There's no one close to me."
Vincent stood for a moment before speaking again.
"The boy, then."
Reno hesitated a moment, but he couldn't deny it. If Deth wasn't a target in and of himself, then he would be in danger if he stayed where he was. And even if he didn't have anything useful right now, he was almost certainly worth more alive than dead. Reno nodded curtly.
"Point conceded. What do we do about it, then?"
"…I have made arrangements for the boy to remain here, with others."
"Others?"
"…Cloud Strife and Tifa Lockheart."
Reno swore quietly, although loudly enough for Vincent to catch it.
"Fuck. Thanks a bunch, Valentine. I really wanted vigilante Spike turning up at my front door. This isn't exactly his problem, and I'm having enough trouble dealing with one do-gooder AVALANCHE member already, thanks."
"He does not know of your involvement."
"Uh-huh. Right. So when I'm rotting in prison or worse, I'll remember that."
"I said nothing of you. They know nothing."
Reno studied Vincent for a moment longer, wondering just how much he could risk here. Dealing with Vincent at all was a gamble, and he didn't know if he really wanted to put his life on the line. The next question was, would there ever be another option? Reno sighed.
"What's in this for you, Valentine, huh? I don't get it. Why the hell have you gone out of your way to do all this? I'd say it's because you like me, but we both know how true that one is, don't we? If I'm going to trust you you're going to have to do a hell of a lot better than this."
Vincent didn't move for a second, but when he finally did the motion was fluid and unhesitating. With his good hand he carefully drew a perfectly folded sheet of white paper from the counter behind him before handing it to Reno. The Turk gave him a quick speculating look before returning his stare to the paper. Vincent watched as he unfolded it.
"I do not want your aid, but neither will I be in your debt."
Reno did not answer, but instead let his eyes run along the single line of perfectly penned black ink. When he was finished, he read it again.
There was no name and no address either for the sender or the recipient. In the center of the page were two sentences.
She is alive. If you wish to see her again, kill the Turk.
When Reno looked up again, several expletives came to mind. Vincent just watched him stoically as ever; arms crossed and face mostly hidden by his cape. Reno blinked one last time to make sure he was reading the thing right. He shook his head, still holding onto the letter.
"You don't believe it…?"
"No."
"Then why…?"
Vincent reached out again and took the letter from Reno's hand before gently refolding it and slipping it back onto the counter behind him.
"If you do not understand it, then it is not for me to explain." He turned his back on Reno, facing the kitchen window. "I will leave tomorrow, and I will not return until I discover who sent this and what their true intent is. Your move is your own."
"You're not fucking leaving me here."
Vincent turned again, his eyes narrowed somewhat.
"It is not your concern. I will not involve anyone else."
Reno stepped forward, stopping only inches from Vincent.
"The hell it's not my concern! Don't you even think? I didn't come this far just to have you say 'it's not my concern'!" Reno was angry, and it showed. "You think I want to work with you?" He almost spat the word 'you'. "AVALANCHE hypocritical asshole. But I won't let you disappear and leave the only link I have to this in the hands of Strife and friends!" He took a deep breath, but did not allow Vincent to speak.
"I'm going with you whether you like it or not – whether I like it or not. I'm a Turk, Valentine, and I'm sure you remember what that's like." Vincent did not shrug off the jibe, and Reno noticed. "I won't fight you because I need your help and I think you need mine. If you're stupid enough not to see that then fine, go get yourself shot in the head and see if I care. If that's the case than I'm better off without you anyway."
He turned to leave, stopping only to grab a can of soda of some kind off the counter on his way past. Cold anger seethed, and he did not stop to see what Vincent's reaction to his outburst had been. He knew he was making a mistake, knew that he only worked alone, knew that this could not end well. However…
There was no one close to him? Ha. Valentine had been right. People close to him were in danger, and although he hated himself and he hated them for it, he would not stop until he'd found what had happened to Elena and Rude. He could do this alone because he was a Turk, but he needed help because he wasn't. He reached the end of the hallway and moved to open the door.
"The Kalm docks, 11 am sharp."
Reno did not acknowledge the stiff anger in the other's voice, did not turn to look at him, and did not smile. He merely turned the knob, opened the door and went in before closing it again behind him.