The Genesis of The Beginning part 3 of 7

PG for :: idiot!Vincent, dreaming, Cloud!pondering via Vincent, mild cursing via Cid, and mild Cid!Bashing

Notes: I don't really like Cid, but I tried to make it not as noticable as it could be. I might have started slipping up on my tenses again, so please dodge any accidental slips. I swear, no matter how much it seems like a VinTi right now, it isn't. I don't like that couple. I believe that Tifa should be in a corner, asexual and posing. However, she does end up being a major part of this story (sadly).

Also, I apologise for the long chapter. (Argh, so much reading and dreaming ... For cryin' out loud, Vincent!)

.::. You see, this is where I start ranting nonsensical stuff. .::.

He thinks he's just as confused by Cloud as he is with himself. Is he a coward or no? At most times, Vincent can not tell. At times, Cloud is cowardly, just like Vincent, or perhaps just tired of this life. At other times, Cloud is immeasurably brave, and every single thing in between. He doesn't think that Cloud knows who he is or that his personality, either uncaring or offensive, draws people. Everyone who spends enough time with him seem to get caught, drawn in like moths by his bright luminescent eyes. Vincent idly wonders what color they were originally. He knows the change couldn't have been much, but surely there was one. Dark or light? Dull or bright? Did they gleam with life or was he just a very solemn person?

There is something lacking in his eyes. He can see that Cloud is in want of something. Revenge? Hope? Peace?

Love?

Hopeful, useless thinking.

He paused to reconcider. Maybe not; hopeless for him, but not useless, and a probability.

He hears a commotion down stairs, so he go to investigate. What was it that Cloud wanted? A person? A place? A thing? He said Nibelheim burned down. His family? A home?

Errant thoughts fill his mind, though he doesn't try to stop them, generally bored. This is why he is distant. He thinks too much . . . distant Vincent . . . such a depressing if true thought . . .

Why did his coffin stay untouched? They could have broken in . . . He could have burned alive . . . but the library was also in shambles, and -- according to Cloud -- exactly how Sephirtoh had left it. But they had to know it was there if they rebuilt the house. Or did they? Did Sephiroth keep it safe because of the library?

He awakens from his thoughts as he reachs the common room. There is a pile of weapons and armor on a table, and Cloud is gleefully handing it out. He always get a real happy, excited look when he buys something. Is it because he can get rid of the money? Or is it because he gets to hunt down more monsters for more gil? Maybe he likes the idea of destruction but not the reality?

Cloud is a whirlwind of excitement when he stops in front of Vincent. Before he knew it, he had new bits of armor on. Cloud steps back to admire his handiwork.

"Not bad." he mutters, eyeing the materia filled bracers and protective armor. Again, Vincent's face pales. He wishes Cloud wouldn't do that; it make him all jittery when the blond looks at him, and even more so when he puts his armor on for him -- jittery like danger and warning, jittery like almost being caught. "And down for the finishing touch!" Cloud exclaims happily and shoves a sleek gun in Vincent's hand, snatching his old one from the holster on his belt.

Vincent's round, incredulous eyes rise to mean Cloud's excited blues. "This is a far lager firearm than I'm used to." he states as calmly as he could. The new gun looked something like a sawed off double barreled shot gun as opposed to his small hand gun.

"But it packs one hell of a punch!" Cloud says, and Vincent could swear he is bubbling. "It does nearly TWICE the damage of your old gun!"

"H-however," he stammers. "I haven't a holster for it!"

"Actually, I bought one for it!" Cloud exclaims excitedly. A disturbingly quick motion, and he's replaced his old holster with the new.

"Must not forget this!" Cloud chirps, and promptly pops three materia into his new gun. "There! That ought to do it!"

". . ." Strained, tense, afraid . . . he couldn't take it anymore -- he flees.

He has been standing here, starting at the scenery from his room's window for nearly three hours, trying to regain his balance of no emotions and no thoughts; a balance which made him nothing but a machine. A part of him wants to leave the group, apologize for all the trouble, and run 'home' to his coffin to hide from life again. Yet, there is another part of him that urges him to stay, to let Cloud throw him off balance, to let him be there, to grow, to change . . .

"Finally found you."

He glances over his shoulder, through dark hair, at Tifa. What did she want? To scold him for being 'mean' to Cloud and running off when the blond was just being nice and equipping him? He continues to watch her though his hair -- a form of hiding -- as she sits on his bed.

"I did not go anywhere that I could not be found." He answers softly. She looks at him, into his eyes, from her perch.

"Yes you did," she corrects. "But that's okay, Cloud was just slightly bewildered with you left, but you know how nothing can get to him or get him down when he's bought weapons."

"Yes."

". . . so what was that look at Aeris about?"

He pauses, feeling his walls sliding into place. "Nothing." He lies. "My own thoughts were the reasons for his actions; she merely happened to be in my line if sight."

So easily to lie, even if it was just a small one . . . just hiding more . . . He hates hiding . . . but he is not about to step into the open for her. She stays silent as he stares out the window. It is getting dark, and strikes him as strange that they hadn't moved on yet. They would probably leave tomorrow.

"Its late." he says. "Get some rest." He turns abruptly, just in time to see Tifa's cinnamon eyes widen, and she jumps up as though in danger.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to intrude!" she exclaims, ducking her head. Inwardly, he sighed. People always seem to assume they have offended him when he states the obvious.

"You haven't, Tifa." He answers, gliding to the door. "People don't offend easily -- except Cid -- and if you had, I would have been far colder."

She stops in the doorway, searching his eyes. He quickly snatchs a mask of emotionlessness up and slams it over his eyes, refusing to let her see his walls or cowardice.

"Then I'm sorry for assuming so." She answers softly. "Goodnight."

He nearly jumps back in surprise when she pulls him down and kisses his cheek, a sisterly act. She turns, hurrying down the hall to her room. He quickly shuts the door and sits on his bed. He had never had a family . . . is that what the group is becoming? A family?

Apprehension is quick to unsettle his stomache. This was a slightly disturbing thought, and it follows him to his sleep.

.:.:.Dream . . ..:.:.

Burning. It was all burning. People screaming, the heat, the light. A familiar face looking into the distance, terrified, angry, confused.

"My pain . . ."

This thought echoes. He turn. Death. Destruction. Niblehiem.

The scene twists, turns, blurs together. A forest, cool, green, serene. Running. Why? Something he can't catch. He stops.

Blurs again. The sky, the sun, fluffy, white, wispy, drifting slowly, peace. In the field below, walk. What's this? A sword. Familiar . . . Drop it, walk on. An egg. Pick it up, cradle it in the palm of human hands . . . two of them. Blurs again, hold this person close . . . safe. Okay, all okay, Safe. Blurs again, Alone, but not. Light, green light . . . Takes the feeling away, tears into the source.

Fear, alone, desolation, scared, confused, Gone...

Anger.

Rage.

Red as blood, hot as magma.

Destruction. The light can not have it. It took it, hurt it. Death.

MIN--

He sits up quickly, breathing hard. It is an odd thing to experience; he didn't usually wake up breathing this hard, being this panicked. He quite literally rolls out of bed, and grunts as he hits the floor with a hollow thud. He tries to remember the dream. All he can remember, though, is that someone took . . . abused . . . something . . . someone? . . . that he cares about. So much anger was quick to rise within him again.

Beginning of destruction?

Mine.

The thought purrs in his ears. Yes, he is confused. He idly uses the mostly bone-and-something-else claw to drag himself off the floor. He's dressed enough to be decent, the shotgun near his pillow. He ignores it, gliding noiselessly to the door. Loose dark pants whisper around his legs, his loose hair tickling his shoulders and back. He carefully opens the door and steps out into the darkened hall. As he closes his door behind him, another door opens. Tifa peers out; that's right, he remembers, she has the room next to his own and must have heard his tumble to the floor. She looks at him more for a moment, mouths 'good night,' and disappears back inside.

He listens carefully, hard, to hear the other's breathing.

Barret and Cid are snoring loudly, and beneath that he can heard Aeris' light breathing and Tifa moving about the bed, trying to get comfortable. Red XIII and the toy Cait Sith are in another room, and he assume Red is asleep and Cait's operator is gone because he hear nothing. And then . . .

You were having a nightmare.

The memory echoes. He doesn't remember much about his first run in with this group, but there are feelings and snatches of conversations that he does. Cloud's reason for awaking him was one of them. And under all the noises in the inn, he can hear tossing and turning, slight sniffling, and erratic breathing, coming from the room diagonally from his own.

Cloud's room.

He moves closer to the door, listening. A nightmare or memories? He turns away --

You were having a nightmare.

Yet something forces him to stop. Guilt settled in the pit of his stomach like a weight, making him uneasy. Yet he could not just step inside. Too many questions would be asked. Also an invasion of privacy, and again Cloud might wish to live with it. Vincent leans back gently, carefully resting his weight against the door behind him. What is your sorrow, Cloud Strife? What gives you nightmares?

And without realization, he drifts . . . and

.:.:.Dreams . . .:.:.

Its dark, and he's back in the basement of the Shin-Ra mansion. His coffin's lid is sealed tightly, and he sits down on top of it. He feels like he's not alone, and its a steadily growing feeling. Movement occurs, and suddenly, he's sitting shoulder to shoulder with someone, facing different directions.

"I trust too easily." the other states suddenly.

He turn his head and find himself staring at the side of Cloud's face. "Trust is something you give, like a gift. It is to be charished, and it is not your fault if some can not understand that."

Cloud looks at him, blue eyes glowing, and fades away. Once again, the basement is empty, and Vincent is afraid of life. The lid of his coffin become intangible and he crashs inside. He tries to push his way back up, but he can't, and he's left pounding on the lid, clawing at this prison futilely.

He jerks back into awareness, and realize that he'd falling asleep outside Cloud's room. He's just beginning to hear stirring in the rooms, so he quickly stands and retreats back into his own. He's never had such a dream turn into a nightmare before . . . for once he wasn't being blamed for anything . . . just senseless fear. He's also surprised that his mind's rendition of Cloud was so flat, when everything else is usually so vivid. He supposes that is because he hadn't figured Cloud out yet, so his subconscious was unsure about how to present him. He heads over to the drawers and begins to dress and pack. Once finished, he debates with himself on wether he really wanted to go down stairs and deal with the group or stay up here where it was . . .

Safe?

No, that would only encourage the cowardice he was trying to fight. He turns and starts for the door. But did he really want to do this? After all, the unknown is rather worrisome. No, he needs to do this. Once his mind is made up, he is ready to go, but is stopped short.

It seems that he has already made that decision; he found himself downstairs in the common room and before any of the others.

Cid was the first down after him. Vincent starts to head for the relative safety of a corner to avoid the pilot, but Cid slings an arm around Vincent's narrow shoulders before he got too far.

"Heya, Vince, you cold-ass bastard!" He shouts into his ear, and Vincent winces. "Whaddya say to a drink?!"

"No." he says as icily as possible, leaving off the almost instinctive 'thank you' part.

"Aww, Com'n!" he yells, and starts dragging the dismayed man off. At this pointed, Vincent idly notes that Cid happens to be on the same shoulder that ends in a mostly bone appendage. An idea cackled manically into life, and internally, Vincent nearly purrs. He swings the claw around Cid's shoulders and grips, the sharp points digging into flesh -- yet not hard enough to do damage and draw blood. Cid blinks at the odd yellow-gold tissue of the monster arm and swallows hard.

"Hmm, methinks it's still a tad early." he mutters and retreats hastily. Vincent pulls his odd far-too-strong arm against his chest, cradling it with his human arm. A grim smirk of amusement grows on his face, behind his cloak in safety.

Suddenly, a hand lands on his human shoulder, startling him.

"You gonna make a habit for making jokes?" Cloud asks, looking slightly up at him.

"Perhaps -- but is it a joke if no one is laughing?" he asks.

"Not out loud, at least." Cloud says, smirking a bit before he heads off toward Aeris.

Vincent decides he may continue to "make jokes". Most definitely if someone keeps noticing . . .

.:.:.TBC.:.:.

Out takes:

Breathing

He listens carefully, hard, to hear the other's breathing.

Vincent: Because, you know, breathing just really excites me.

Everyone: . . .

Joking

"You gonna make a habit for making jokes?" Cloud asks, looking slightly up at him.

"Perhaps -- but is it a joke if no one is laughing?" he asks.

Cloud: ....

Vincent: ... ... ?

Cloud: Hey, can I get a dictionary over here?! (waves arms at the rest of the group).

Everyone: (facefaults)

I'm sorry for the large amount of time that they seem to spend dreaming. Its because of all the dreaming I named it "Dream Carefully" anyway (That and it's a fair warning). You probably noticed that first dream was a bit of Cloud flashback/going-to-happen going on. I don't know why I made Vincent see that, but it won't affect anything since Vincent never really pays his nightmares any mind. Also, No, they did not just share a dream.

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