The week couldn't pass fast enough. Every minute of every day dragged by at snail's speed and then, without warning, it was Thursday morning and Cid had two hours before he was due at 2C for lunch.
He'd showered, shaved of all miracles, and was sitting on his bed staring at his wardrobe. He was the first to admit he wasn't really fussed about his appearance, and suddenly he was wishing he was.
Everything was marked, stained, ripped, patched or so old it just might fall apart. Nothing in there looked like it would match up to the simple elegance of Valentine.
Valentine. She had a name. A name that meant love.
He shook his head. Talk about sentimental and sappy.
Finally, he dragged out a pair of pants that had only one grease mark on the hip and a shirt that wasn't too bad if you didn't look too hard around the waist. His boots had to do, he didn't actually own another pair of shoes.
The clock read as five to one. He didn't want to be late, or early, he paced the living room, watching the seconds click by.
He rubbed his hand on his chin and cursed when he felt stubble that had eluded the razor.
One minute. No time to go and try to get rid of it. He rushed out the door, locking it behind him, and almost fell down the stairs in his hurry.
His watch had just clicked to one o'clock when he knocked on the door of 2C.
Movement, and the door opened slightly. One burgundy eye saw him and the door closed over, the chain rattled and he was gestured in by a slim hand, still in a long glove. "Please, come in Mr Highwind."
He stepped in, the door was closed behind him. "You can just call me Cid, Miss Valentine."
She stepped around him, smiling faintly. "I will call you Cid if you will stop calling me Miss."
She was dressed in a long black skirt with a soft white blouse. Her hair was braided, but strands were loose and falling around her face. Cid swore she wore no makeup, though that colouring could not be natural.
"Cid? Are you alright?"
He looked up at the concerned red eyes. "Yeah. Just thinkin'. Sorry."
She coloured faintly, remembering what he had been thinking about the last time she had asked him. She led him out to the kitchen, he was surprised by the complete lack of femininity out here.
"Please, take a seat. I was just finishing the cooking."
He sat down hesitantly, glancing around at the small changes. Herbs and spices sat alongside chemicals, something was over a fire, it was green and bubbling.
Valentine came over with a bowl of steaming soup. She sat it down, laying out a bowl at each end and a soup spoon. "It's homemade ham and pea with some spices for flavouring. I hope it is alright."
Cid carefully served them both, ladies first, nodding to the gothic woman. "Certainly. I don't often eat homemade. Not such a good cook really."
She smiled and brushed back her fringe. "I'm not really a good cook, I just know enough to get by."
He nodded and waited for her to start before taking a mouthful. It was hot, but undoubtedly delicious. "This is very good. Mr Hojo is lucky to have someone like you."
Her spoon hit the bowl, splashing soup. He looked at her, frowning with worry, but she had already grabbed a cloth and was cleaning up the splatters.
"Valentine? Did I do something wrong?"
"Can we, not talk about him?" She looked at him with sad eyes. "He's all I hear about in here. Why not talk about you? How did you come to own this place?"
He looked back down at the soup, eating a little more while he thought of the right answer. "I got a payment from the air force. I was injured in the service of my country, they gave a medal and stuff and a payment and let me go. I used it to buy this place."
He hadn't told anyone that before. About his old job, about the medal or the discharge. Valentine nodded, sipping at her soup slowly. "What did you do, with the air force?"
"I was a pilot. I started as a technician at nineteen, moved into the piloting ranks by twenty one, discharged with full honours at thirty one."
"How old are you now, if you don't mind me asking?"
"Thirty two." He smiled and looked down at the nearly empty bowl. "I was planning on selling this place when I bought it, but I kinda got fond of it. Got fond of the people, ya know."
"I can imagine. Would you like more?"
He looked up at her softly smiling face. "Yes, thanks."
They chatted comfortably for a while. In the progress of their conversation, Cid found that he had coughed up nearly everything that hadn't spoken about for years, from his parents' death in the train crash to his friend who died when his engine exploded in her face.
Valentine never judged, never spoke at the wrong time and never offered unhelpful and unwanted advice. She patted his arm softly on occasion, laughed at a particularly funny story and fetched them drinks.
Finally, Cid had presence of mind to check his watch. It read five to six. "Err, much fun as this has been, Valentine, it's nearly six."
Her face paled. "Oh no. I'm afraid you have to go, Cid." She stood up, hands twisting around each other. "Simon'll be home soon, I have to get dinner ready."
He nodded and stood up, letting her hurry him out. "Maybe next week you could come for lunch?"
She smiled sadly. "I can't leave this apartment, Cid. Don't ask me why, just accept that I cannot. But, I would like it if you came down here, like today. I had a nice time, it was," she paused and smiled at him, "lovely."
He nodded as she closed the door between them.
0
Friday was dull and lifeless. Cid collected the rent from everyone, stopped to chat when invited but his mind wasn't there. He was caught on Thursday afternoon, spending those five hours with Valentine, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
He stomped up to his own apartment, shutting the door a little harder than was really necessary. He dumped his jacket and boots, kicked the heater to start it and pulled out his dinner, almost throwing it into the oven.
Did Hojo sit and talk with her? She had sounded so lonely, so pained. She was obviously desperate for company, except she wouldn't leave that apartment.
Why? Was she scared of unfamiliar places?
Was she scared of being alone with him? Obviously not, but maybe in an unfamiliar place.
Except... she had come up here. But Hojo had made her.
He felt anger rise in him. Hojo didn't deserve someone as beautifully sweet as Valentine. No one had the right to make her hurt.
He sat down to his dinner alone.
0
The routine was set. Every Thursday, at one o'clock, Cid would go down to Valentine's. Sometimes he brought her a flower or a small box of sweets; she had a particular fondness for licorice. Every Thursday they had a home cooked meal and then sat in the living room chatting until five to six, when he would leave.
Two months they did this. Two months for him to learn things about her, things that amazed him but made him wonder.
She used to work. For the government no less, though what she did he wasn't sure. She wouldn't leave the apartment; Hojo even did the shopping for them. She obviously wasn't happy with their relationship, she stopped calling him Simon and referred to him as Professor Hojo when Cid came around. She always wore gloves, even as the weather turned fair and the heat must have been uncomfortable.
She was hiding a great many things, and he knew she wanted to tell him. Her eyes shone with a hopeless whim that she never voiced.
On the ninth week, Cid took her by the hand, kissed it gently and asked her to consider leaving Hojo. He told her he didn't care about her secrets, didn't care that she was unable to leave those rooms. He asked her to leave, for her own sake.
She smiled that sad smile and pressed a finger on his lips, looking down to avoid his gaze, and he knew she was saying no.
That never stopped him asking.
She never accepted, but the next week, when he came with a rose and the same request, she always let him in and they would pretend for a few hours that nothing was wrong.
It was their thirteenth meeting. Cid had given up dressing up and so had she, though her casual was still as elegant as ever. He looked at the rose on the table, his hands were trembling.
Until now, he had given her a single yellow rose each time, its petals spread wide. This time, he had changed.
They both felt the same. He knew it, she knew it. He was sick of hiding it.
At five to, he grabbed the rose and headed downstairs, knocking on the door. She opened it within seconds, smiling face strengthening his resolve. "Cid, come in."
He stepped in and handed her the red bud. She took it slowly, smile fading. "Cid? Do you know what this signifies?"
He nodded and took her hand. "Yes. Valentine, I love yer, yer know that. I know yer feel somethin' fer me, I can see it." He pressed her hand to his chest. "My heart races every time I see yer, every time yer smile. I hate seein' yer so miserable with him. Please, move outta here. Move in with me, even if only while yer find a place to stay."
She lowered her face, moving the bud to stroke her cheek. He saw a drop run along the petals, crystal clear. "I can't, Cid."
"Yer can. He ain't gonna lay a hand on yer, not if I can stop him."
"I have secrets, Cid. Secrets that change things."
He shook his head, pulling her face up to look at his. "No, that don't matter. I don't care. I know who yer are, inside. Yer secrets can stay yours. I want ter help yer get out. If we can't be anything," he took a breath, "I can live with that, so long as he isn't hurting you."
She bit her lip. "I... come and have lunch. Don't talk about this, not now."
He nodded and followed her out to the kitchen.
0
The time passed quickly, and before either of them realised it, it was heading for six. Cid sighed and looked at Valentine, he was still holding her gloved hand in his bare one. "I gotta go in a few minutes."
"Yes." She looked up at him, a strength and resolve gleaming in them. "Yes."
He looked around the room and back at her. "Huh?"
"Yes, I will leave him." She nodded and stood up, skirt swirling around her. "I am going to leave him." She turned back to Cid, and he knew something wasn't right, but he couldn't place why. "Tomorrow. You can help me, can't you? If you help, we can pack all my things and move me out of here tomorrow, before he gets back from work."
Cid was smiling so wide his face hurt, but he didn't want to stop. "Course I can. One?"
"Two," she corrected. "He stays home for rent collection then leaves for the office. He will be there until seven or eight. After the rent, after he goes, we can move then."
She looked alive, more than he had seen before. He grabbed her hands, they stood there, smiling at one another. He wanted to kiss her, so badly, but she pushed him to the door. "You have to go, the professor will be here soon, you have to go."
He let himself be pushed out and made his way up the stairs in a daze.
He never saw Hojo watching him.
0
Friday came about fast. Cid collected the rents, oblivious to almost everything but the idea that Valentine would finally be getting out from under Hojo's restraints at last. He was polite to the professor, taking the rent and trying not to grin like an idiot as he though of Hojo losing what he had never deserved to begin with.
It was only a matter of waiting the half hour for Hojo to leave for work before he raced down to the flat. He knocked softly and waited.
No answer came.
He frowned and knocked louder.
Nothing.
That wasn't right. He waited a few minutes, growing ever more agitated, then knocked loudly.
When no noise was heard he pulled out his keys, flicking through them until he found the one labeled 2C. He slid the key into the lock, turning it and opening the door slightly.
The chain wasn't on, which was useful but worrying. Valentine always put the chain on, she was scared of someone coming in for some reason.
He heard a noise in the bedroom. He called out to her, quietly, but there was no reply. He walked over, heard a muffled voice and then a cracking noise.
He opened the door and peered into the room, jaw falling slack as he looked.
Hojo was wearing his lab coat, but red splattered it. He held a cane in one hand, the source of the cracking doubt no doubt.
Valentine, what he presumed was Valentine, lay on the bed. A gag was shoved in that pretty mouth, red eyes over spilling with tears. The normally gloved hands were tied to the bedposts, wrists red with struggling and Cid could see the ugly scarring that marked the left arm, all the way down to the very flat and very masculine chest. The chest was attached to a very naked and very male stomach and, he was not looking there.
Valentine wasn't she at all.
Cid saw her, no, his eyes turn and see him. They were wide with terror, and he remember how much joy he had seen in them, even as his heart broke with the betrayal of her secret.
He picked up the vase and dashed forwards, bringing it down on Hojo's head with a sharp smash. The professor crumpled to the ground and Cid looked at him, dropping the broken base.
Valentine, except he wasn't Valentine, looked at Cid mournfully.
A thousand thoughts rushed through. He was straight. He was hopelessly in love with a sweet charming woman named Valentine.
Except that wasn't true.
He strode forwards and pulled out his pocket knife, sawing through his restraints. The pale arms fell bonelessly, he carefully made sure that he didn't get hurt any further. Cid undid the gag, throwing it away and smoothing back Valentine's hair.
The face that suddenly made sense as not quite right was bewildered. "Aren't you... angry?"
"A bit," Cid agreed. He put on arm around his shoulders, his own going around the thin waist.
"Do you, hate me?" He whispered, that voice so familiar.
"No." Cid pulled Valentine to his feet, helping him out to the living room. They sat down, blood staining the material. "I gotta go restrain him until the police arrive."
He went out into the other room. Valentine sat there, he was sitting in the same place when Cid came back, his hands clasped in his bare lap, a long coat wrapped around his form.
"Cid?"
The ex-pilot eyed off the other man. He was beautiful, no one could ever deny that, he was beyond compare.
"Cid?"
"Did you really care?"
"What?"
Cid looked up at those eyes. "The love I saw, was it real?"
The deep blush and way that he refused to meet his eyes told him it was. Cid nodded and strode forwards. His hands found Valentine's waist and pulled him to stand, moving close to look at the down turned face.
"I love you. Not yer looks, not yer gender. I love you."
Valentine's lips parted slightly, until Cid pushed a finger to them. "I wanna know, Valentine. No excuses, not yet, no reasons. Just honest to god, do you love me? Are you willing to try, despite this, despite that jackass, despite everything?"
He nodded slowly and Cid smiled, leaning up to kiss those pale red pouty lips, just like he had dreamed.
They both moved back slightly and Valentine smiled, a soft genuine smile. "Hi. I'm Vincent Valentine, and I think I love you."
Cid smiled and took one hand. "Vincent, huh? Well, I'm pleased to finally meet you Mr Vincent Valentine."
They both smiled slightly, even as the sirens were heard outside.
0
It was, in the humble opinion of Ms Lockhart, a little odd. Mr Highwind and his, friend, Mr Valentine, the tall scarred man who moved in the day the police arrested the strange Mr Hojo from 2C. Their, relationship, wasn't her business, and she wasn't sticky beaking into anyone's affairs but their close embraces and touches were a little more than friendly.
Particularly the wandering hand she was sure she had seen on Mr Valentine's posterior.
But, she wasn't one to pass judgment. After all, she had said that Mr Highwind needed to find himself a partner, someone to look after him, and if Mr Valentine was the one, then there was nothing to be done about it, though it really was a pity.
No one else really cared about Ms Lockhart's humble opinion.
Least of all Cid and Vincent.