The Genesis of The Beginning part 4 of 7
PG-13 for :: mild!Blood/Gore, Death, Cliched!Angst, Vincent toying with his own emotions, and other stuff like that.
Notes: Ugh, here we go with more cliched stuff.
Mrph, I noticed errors, and so Four, Five, and Six have been reposted.
.::. If you can't dazzle them with brilliance, riddle them with bullets. .::.
Time is starting to blur together again. Moments mean nothing. They ran, fought, ran, angst, ran, rest, sleep on edge, ran, fought, despair . . . Today Vincent awakens invigorated, charged up and ready to go. The odd squirming feeling that something would happen refuses to leave him. The others have yet to awaken, so he perches himself on a nearby rock and listened to the world awaken with the sun. Speaking of which, the golden orb was just beginning to peak over the edge of the world, and he stands to turn. The sun was becoming increasingly annoying, not only to his eyes, but his skin, also. He turns, and sees Could standing below the rock, his luminescent eyes watching Vincent solemnly. Their eyes meet, and again it happens, like deja vu. Time blurs, though he wished it would stop -- confusing, like being back in the coffin. Logically, he tells himself that it could not be more that a few moments passing, but he still feels that its more like hours of time, an eternity . . . he is used to these symptoms; they appeared every time he chooses someone to care after . . . but he has never chosen someone like Cloud . . . or have he chosen at all?
"You woke early." Cloud says.
"Something might happen." he answers, and fails to explain as Cloud's eyes ask him to. He doesn't understand the feeling either. "Where are we going?"
"Just to a small village. To rest."
"How long?"
"A few days."
He breaks the eye-contact this time, his eyes shifting to Aeris' sleeping form. They seem to be Cloud's favored combination; Aeris for her healing powers, and himself . . . he's not sure why he gets chosen, but perhaps its for his skills with a gun . . . it makes up for the times he loses control of the Jenova cells inside him, he supposes. Cloud wakes Aeris softly, and Vincent keeps watch without having to be told; with any luck, they will fail to meet any monsters. Cloud and Aeris speak, and Vincent is left trying vainly not to listen. From what he does hear, Cloud is just telling her exactly what he told him.
They start out, and he brings up the rear. Time blurs once again, but that annoying feeling of anticipation just increased as time goes on.
Suddenly, there's a flash of light, a flash of pain, and darkness engulfs him.
Float, drift, wonder, wander . . . warmth . . . emerald eyes stare into his.
Its not time yet.
Time?
The Blackness shatters, falling around his feet.
He can vaguely feel magic pulling at his body. His consciousness is returning, his physical head cradled in a lap. He open his eyes and sees Cloud leaning over him, a bright green materia in hand. From his position, he knows his head rests in Aeris' lap.
"What . . . ?"
"Some weird monster, a back attack, and a Deathblow at that." Cloud answers. "We managed to beat the hell out of it, so I used Revive on you."
That's right. Cloud always holds off using any reviving actions until the fight it over or both of his companions go down. He tries to sit up and almost collapses, but Cloud and Aeris catch him before he falls too far.
"Wait, be careful." Aries says. "You're still badly injured. You did die, you know. Hold on a second, and I'll do something for it." In moments, he's suddenly feeling much stronger, more alive. She probably used on of the higher level cures on him. Cloud grabs his hand, and between the two of them, they get Vincent standing; one alone couldn't do it because he's heavier than his frail-looking form claims -- its mostly due to his height, the rest his arm.
His face becomes white as a sheet -- though who could tell the difference? -- as he notes that Cloud's hand lingers. He's frozen, unsure of what to do, what to think, how to feel. Cloud is just looked up at him, a slight frown on his face. Vincent knows now that the man has seen the reaction, but what can he do but hope that Cloud passes it off as an effect of his death and resurrection? The air is cool on his palm as the blond withdraws his hand.
"Com'n, we're almost there." he says briskly, and turns. A bitter feeling fills Vincent, and with some dismay, he realized that he had yet to torture himself with the 'what if's and the usual facts. Even though Vincent knew that he chose these people to care for out of cowardice, he still fooled himself into hoping that he could some day . . . some how . . . impossibilities, but he had assured himself he couldn't have them; why not let himself fall?
He was just coming to term with the fact that this time he had chosen a man to lo- . . . to care for instead of one of the girls. They were just as inaccessible as Cloud, why not one of them? They were beautiful, and one was doomed to die. He had seen warmer, more beautiful men; why Cloud? Why now? Well, not that Cloud wasn't attractive, it was just that he was very much so different from what Vincent would have expect to chose if he chose a man at all. He had thought himself straight -- had acted straight, but no use in going there -- so if he chose a man, why not one that was girly? One he could pass off as a cross-dressed girl. No, Cloud really could not be passed off as a girl in his eyes (though he had heard some interesting tales from Tifa and Aeris that brought amusement and then a bit of nausea when he heard the 'kiss me' part). Cloud . . .
They began a long trek again, yet he continued with the torture even once he had reached the point of near heat-stroke. Cloud was undeniably masculine in his eyes, strong and reserved. His eyes told tales of woe, of hardships, of betrayal. All Vincent could feel was a deep rooted desire to see his eyes shine with some sort of happiness. If not that, then at least contentment. It just seemed wrong, some how, to see him so sad and slightly confused. He was still young, had many years ahead of him; he should be enjoying life, not on a journey to kill someone he once trusted.
Fool, he told himself. Cloud might be happy one day, but not for you, not because of you. Maybe Tifa can help, maybe the death of Sephiroth will help, but never you. You are too depressed, reserved -- Cowardly -- to be of any help to him. The only thing you can do is keep him alive until someone . . . something can help him. Bitterness was quick to devour him. Bitter about life, about this helplessness, even about his own cowardice and sorrow. Yes, angst-angst, Vincent Valentine. Good job. Mope-Mope, Vincent; That's sure to help!
Even better, he snarled internally. Now he's gotten sarcastic with himself. He looks up at the back of Cloud's head, wild hair flashing in the light. "Good job," He mutter. "Real good job."
In this moment of external attention, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Something large, something deadly, was stalking them. Without a word, he spins, shotgun in hand. Blood rushes through him, his face flushing as he saw the massive beast. He aimed the double barrels higher than they were.
"Run." He says futilely, knowing what they couldn't hear him. He pulls the trigger, and a deafening blast thunders in his ears. "RUN!"
The dragon thundered in fury and pain. It opens its mouth, the beginnings of flames flickering there. He quickly cocks his gun, aims, and fires into its mouth. As it rears back in pain, Vincent spins. Good, they were running, though Aeris is lagging behind. He turned back to the Dragon, fear rushing though his veins like fire, like ice, like everything and nothing was going to happen. It lashes its tail, sending him flying. Agony flashes through him as the sound of breaking bones echoes in his ears. He coughs, not really concerned with the blood that he suddenly tastes in his mouth. He climbs to his feet, and looks after the dragon, eyes tracing its path. It was racing after Cloud and Aeris, gaining so much ground in so little time.
Visions of the two ripped, torn, devoured flashed in his mind's eye. Fury, hotter than he'd ever experience before flooded him, and something within him broke -- his stomach twisting with sickening urgency. He only had time to feel a flash of brutal and feral ferocity before the beast's mind took over
When he finally gains awareness, he is standing in the middle of nowhere, the dead dragon minus a wing, the last half of its tail, and most of its head, sprawled in front of him. He turns slowly to face the others, eyes going to Cloud.
Both he and Aeris were tattered, looking exhausted and the worst for wear. Vincent felt energized, but that would be because when Jenova reformed him, the beast healed itself.
"I apologize," He says softly, ducking his head. "I should have more control."
Cloud's glowing blue eyes stares at him emotionlessly for a moment. "Its okay. You've already explained your lack on control."
"Besides!" Aeris chirps. "Even though you kept healing it with the beast's fire attacks, it was your berserk dash-and-attack that finished it."
Sardonic amusement is quick to worm its way into his soul. "Please, forgive me." He repeats, bowing. "The beast likes to . . . play."
Cloud and Aeris do not seem as bitterly amused as he was. That is not helping his feelings that he had screwed up royally and sickened feelings that lingers with the taste of blood.
Once they reached the town and got rooms, he retreats to his and sleeps like the dead.
.:.:.TBC.:.:.
Out takes:
"You woke early." Cloud says.
"Something might happen." he answers, and fails to explain as Cloud's eyes ask him to.
Barret: (runs by in his underwear) I am tha King o' Da MATERIA!
Everyone: ...
Deafening
"Run." He says futilely, knowing what they couldn't hear him. He pulls the trigger, and a deafening blast thunders in his ears. "RUN!"
Aeris: Did you hear something?
Cloud: Huh? (holds up hand to his ears)
Vincent: ... ... dammit.
Sleeping like the Dead
Once they reached the town and got rooms, he retreats to his and sleeps like the dead.
Vincent: No, really, I did. See? (points to coffin) I made Cid carry it.
Cloud: ... ...
Cid: What? He said he'd take my cigarettes if I didn't.
Everyone: ...
RANDOM NOTE OF DOOM
Vincent likes to play with his emotions -- he's an emotional junkie. Gets high off the chemicals his body releases when he rides the emotional roller coaster. It just so happens that the man finds it easier to create the darker emotions than the happier emotions. Keep this in mind when reading this, because it makes the Cliched!Angst-of-doom easier to swallow.
I'll let you know when/if I rewrite this chapter!