"Dream Carefully"
The Genesis of The Beginning part 2 of 7
PG for :: slight VinTi (not my intention), idiot!Vincent, and abusing the unknown factors of Vincent's experiment.
Notes: Yes, for some ungodly reason, VinTi seems to get hinted at here. Just wait until chapter five or so, and you'll see some Vincent VS Tifa stuff . . . which I seemed to have spoofed. Go me! I make fun of my fanfics so you don't have to!
.::. Would you like fries with that boarder? Or perhaps caramel topping? .::.
He sits in a corner, safe from contact. The group is together for once, and Cloud is trying to summarize what is going on. Frankly, Vincent dosen't understand why their 'leader' bothers, nor why the group keeps asking him to; his words never change, and they have yet to fully grasp the situation. Yet they follow him, even though they don't understand, because they are mostly content to believe him, to trust that he knows what is best, to follow him and not think about anything too much.
Vincent's eyes slip over to Tifa. As usual, she casting lovesick glances at Cloud, her cinnamon eyes awash with longing, long chocolate hair cascading around her face and shoulders, the bound ends nearly brushing the floor as she shifts. He dosen't think that Cloud has noticed her feeling, which is sort of sad -- in the sorrow sense and in the sarcastic sense -- considering her pain and obviousness. As he watches, there's a twang of sympathy pain in his chest, and his throat tightens, choking him. She will know such sadness if she continues to be a coward . . .
Over near a wall is the serene Aeris. Her knowing emerald eyes watch the scene calmly -- without malice -- her ever present smile on her graceful lips. The waterfalls of her dark amber hair swish slightly as she turns her head toward Cloud, who has given up on explaining for simply shaking his head and shrugging in response to whatever Barret is saying. He can sense that even though Aeris cares for Cloud, the love she bears for him is very different than Tifa's.
Tifa's love is odd, a panicked sort of needing. Its like she is grasping desperately for stands of hope, scrambling for something to save her from depression and dispair. Aeris, however, has a gentler way of loving someone. It hugs and sooths instead of clinging. Her love is all-emcompasing, young and less jaded. Its a way of accepting someone, of living while the present is here and not the past.
Yet, though all of this, Vincent manages to be weary of Aeris. Somehow, there is something about her that almost grates against him. Turkish insticts warn that she knows far too much, that she has nothing to lose. Her serenity is more like that of a doomed person than one who knows that she will one day have a loving family.
With this thought, Vincent stands suddenly, still staring at Aeris. She knows she's going to die before this is over! She dared to love even though she couldn't have, to enjoy life before it had to end. Sorrow is quick to creep upon him, settling around his shoulders heavily. When had he dared? When had he enjoyed life?
This realization is very painful. He has lived so much longer than she, but she had learned a very important lesson which he hadn't even known existed. Yet . . . It was a painful realization, but it brought an odd feeling within him. It creeps along his flesh, leaving goosebumps, and a slight tickling sensation that almost makes him want to cough.
"Vincent?"
This inquisition startles him, and Vincent's eyes broke from Aeris' to skitter over to meet Red XIII's. It's then that he realizes that everyone was also staring at him, near panicked, hands near their weapons.
"Is everything okay?" Tifa asked cautiously.
Grim amusement trickles along the edges of his cloak, almost daring to peak over in a sardonic smirk. Even though on the inside he is warmed with absurd happiness -- why is he happy for something he had not achieved? -- his demeanor has yet to change from silent and brooding.
"That would depend on your definition of 'okay', Tifa. In that we are in no danger -- then yes, everything is okay. However, in other meanings . . . That seems to remain a secret." he answers. He makes some small gesture with his human hand -- to show that he wasn't reaching for his gun -- and turns to the stairs. The strength of the doomed is truly amazing . . . as he walks, he hears the others begin to speak. More grim amusement fell to visit him -- odd, trickling along his skin like rain. Did they think he was deaf, or that he didn't care if they talked of him as if he was?
"Well, that was certainly strange!"
"I'll say! I though there was bad guys around when he stood so fast!"
". . . Why did he look at you, Aeris?"
"I don't know, Cloud. Why don't you check on him?"
"W-what?"
"Ya did get 'im outta that damned coffin."
"H-hey!"
Vincent pauses briefly, his hand on the door to the room in which he is staying. Yes, Cloud had awakened him, though it wasn't a requirement for his return to the surface. He simply allowed himself to be bound because he didn't wish to face life . . . and yet . . . when that lid came off . . .
"Lu . . . cre . . . cia . . ."
Where was he? . . . Does it matter? . . . Where's Lucrecia? . . . the blood . . . his hands . . . why, Lucrecia? . . . Sephiroth . . .
Its so dark, even with his eyes open, he doesn't see a thing . . .
"Traitor?" a voice asks, echoing an accusation
Voices . . . who? . . . nobody ever comes here . . .
The air is so thick . . . its hard to breathe . . . why breathe? . . . Silence . . . wonderful silen-- . . .
Temp-temp-temp-temp!
Foot . . . steps? . . . who is here? . . . why now? . . . Lucrecia . . .
"To wake me from the nightmare . . ."
Shlump!
LIGHT! BLINDING! PAIN!
His eyes snap open, watering from the light. He sat up quickly, ignoring the pain of long unused muscles. Who?
Eyes glow . . . go away . . .he wants nothing to do with SOLDIER . . .
"... this mansion is the beginning of your nightmares ..."
he speaks . . . he answers . . . Blurs . . . reality or dream? . . . he wants to sleep with his nightmares . . . his punishment . . .
Sephiroth?
Leap up out of the coffin. Anger . . . confusion . . . guilt . . . more stains . . . the voices? . . . doesn't matter . . . more nightmares . . . to dream . . . let him sleep . . .
He retreats back into darkness . . . don't bother him . . . have to sleep . . . dwell . . . so much blood . . . on his name . . . all his fault . . . let him hide . . . he doesn't want life . . .
Again . . . light floods . . . his lid is removed . . . What? What now? Let him sleep . . .
His name?
"Vincent . . ."
Have to sleep now . . . is it done? . . . he don't care about their names . . .
They don't know her . . . they are of no use . . .
Darkness . . . Sephiroth . . . Shin-ra . . . Hojo . . . don't care . . . punishment . . . nightmares . . . darkness . . . and yet . . .
Bright . . . glowing . . . Blue . . .
Live . . . hide? . . . GO . . .
. . . hide? . . . . . .
He shoves his lid aside . . . too late? . . . Force his limbs to move . . . FASTER! . . . Catch up. Why? Hojo? Revenge?
They might find him . . . the blue eyes don't lie . . . might . . . such a risk . . . just a chance . . . for what he wants . . .
A Chance. Risk? Afraid . . . GO!
Risk? Afraid . . . !
Vincent goes.
He turns the doorknob and steps inside the room. He doesn't bother to close the door because he knows Cloud with enter shortly. Is that a good thing of a bad thing? He's not sure, but he has decided that it was a thing . . . Oh, look. he's made a funny. Har-de-har-har . . . bitter, very bitter . . .
What will Cloud ask? And how shall he answer? What will he say? And himself? He can not tell Cloud that he was startled by the fact that he was more of a coward than a very young girl who know she was going to die.
"Vincent?"
His human fingers stop their twitching, and he turns his head to regard Cloud with weary eyes.
"Yes."
There are far too many questions ringing in his head, coming far too quickly for him to answer, or even to catch and hear.
Bright blue eyes that glow with the mako their owner is infused with, sunflash hair that takes one look that the laws of physics and cackles manically, pale skin riddled with paler scars. A young face, but what an old look in those eyes . . .
"What was that about back there?"
Vincent struggles to answer quickly enough while trying to consider his answer carefully. " . . . I apologize for any alarm that my actions caused; had I remained sitting any longer, I would have fallen asleep."
Blue eyes widen considerably, incredulously, a comical look. Vincent, himself, is surprised by that small display of dry humor . . . yet somehow he is pleased with himself also. Sadly, his emotions fail to show themselves, preferring to hide in their own little coffins.
"You just made a joke!" Cloud stammers in disbelief.
"What led you to that conclusion?"
"Your eyes! They did that little . . ." he trails off, waving a hand in font of his own. "What do they call that? But it showed in your eyes!"
In a typical display of his altered nature, his face drains of blood instead of being flooded with it. It is slightly unnerving to learn that Cloud is that perceptive, but beyond that, for anyone to note such a fine detail; yet . . . he is also struggling to restrain a strangely awkward feeling of warmth that is threatening to overtake his embarrassment. This is extremely foreign to him, to say the least. He dislikes the fact that Cloud is able to invoke such confusing emotions from him, especially since he had gotten so use to the darker emotions or none at all. However, he couldn't bring himself to become annoyed with either or them.
"--cause you look rather pale." Cloud finishs. Surprise left a tingling along his spine. When had Cloud started talking again? Panic -- how should he answer? Enough erratic behaivor would lead to worry, or at least distrust; distrust would lead to analyzing past and present, and a torrent of questions. It would be better to offer at least some crippled excuse, or perhaps some response.
He almost settles for just staring at the blond rather blankly instead of trying to act like he was paying any attention to what was said, but instead he ends up lifting one shoulder in an indifferent manner. Cloud just stares back, looking into his eyes, searching for something -- maybe an answer -- but Vincent refuses to offer anything. Time passes, blurs, and he doesn't know how long this goes on. Seconds? Minutes? Hours -- days -- weeks? Eternity? He doesn't know, and he doesn't care . . . what are moments next to decades and an eternity in a coffin?
Abruptly, Cloud turns away, heading for the door. "I'm going out for supplies," he says. "I'll be back later. Be careful."
"I'm not the one going anywhere." Vincent retorts, though he's not sure where the annoyance came from. He catches just the barest shimmer of blue, and Cloud is gone, the door closing behind him. He sits on the bed, and feel as though he's back in that sufficating coffin, hiding from life -- Trapped.
.::.TBC.::.
SPOOF!
Vincent struggles to answer quickly enough while trying to consider his answer carefully. " . . . I apologize for any alarm that my actions caused; had I remained sitting any longer, I would have fallen asleep."
Cloud: Huh?
Vincent: Seriously. I'm narcoleptic. What do you think I was doing in a coffin for thirty years?
SPOOF! ROUND TWO!
Abruptly, Cloud turns away, heading for the door. "I'm going out for supplies," he says. "I'll be back later. Be careful."
"I'm not the one going anywhere." Vincent retorts, though he's not sure where the annoyance came from. He catches just the barest shimmer of blue, and Cloud is gone, the door closing behind him. He sits on the bed, and suddenly it gives out underneath him. Then the floor caves, and he finds himself at the bottom of the stairs, siting in the middle of chaos.
Cloud: (blinking at him from the top of the stairs) ... I told you so.
For any wondering, the fanfic will stay with Vincent. He's the only pov you all are going to get. Mostly because that would lull the reader into a sense of knowing what will happened. This way, you don't know what Cloud or the others think, and how they see it.
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