FINAL FANTASY: POINT OF INTERSECTION
BOOK 1: THE APPROACHING STORM

CHAPTER 14

Snow fell gently from leaden skies slowly darkening with the gradual onset of twilight, the tiny flakes buffeted and tossed playfully about in the cool wind whispering its hidden secrets through the clusters of pine trees that dotted the village here and there. Children ran and laughed and threw snowballs at one another as their parents called them in for supper, and in the warm glow of the streetlamps, a car or two carefully made its way down the slush-filled road.

It was so much like Winhill, yet at the same time so very different.

Ellone sighed, memories of her hometown rising unbidden in her mind as she leaned wearily against the rail of the front porch and gazed out at the little town slowly settling in for the evening. Snow was uncommon in Winhill, though not unheard of, and on those winter days when the chill had plummeted low enough for the white flurries to spill down from the heavens, Elle had often sat by the front window in her little home, a steaming mug of hot chocolate grasped in her slender fingers, and had watched as the world outside had gradually been blanketed in whiteness.

She thought then of one particular winter, back when she had been a little girl living with Raine and Uncle Laguna before she had been taken away. Laguna had bundled her up one frigid afternoon and taken her sledding in the hills just outside of town. With the wind whipping in her face, little Elle had squealed with delight as she and Laguna had sped down the modest slopes and onto the wide, icy fields of grass and snow at their base. She had sat in front of him on the makeshift sled, his arms securely around her middle as the two of them had practically flown down the hillside.

Winhill was still a quiet little place even today, surrounded by undulating waves of bright green grasses that often reached halfway up to Elle's knees. Her little home on the edge of town overlooked those endless fields and the bluffs beyond them. She had never been able to bring herself to stay in Raine's old house or her own, however, for the bittersweet memories of her younger days still lingered there too much for her to ever really feel comfortable in those places.

The soft creaking of the front door swinging open behind her brought Ellone from her thoughts, and she turned to see Tifa carefully making her way toward her, a mug of hot chocolate grasped in each hand. In spite of the extra weight from the child growing inside her, Tifa looked remarkably fit for a woman who was six months pregnant. She stood straight, the swelling in her abdomen less prominent than what it might have been in another woman.

Tifa smiled and offered Elle one of the mugs. "Care for something hot to drink?"

"Thank you," Ellone nodded gratefully, "I'd like that."

Gingerly taking a mug with her good hand, Elle closed her eyes for a moment as she inhaled the sweet aromas of chocolate and cinnamon, and her fingers began to warm from the heat passing through the glazed white mug's ceramic surface from the steaming liquid inside. Her arms and chest still ached, but many of the smaller cuts had already healed in the few days that she'd been here thanks to the potions Tifa had given her at regular intervals as well as that herbal tea.

Ellone took a sip of the hot liquid, savoring the welcome flavors of rich chocolate and the little marshmallows that floated in a cluster along one side of the mug. Heat filled her throat and belly, warding away some of the cold that had seeped into Elle's body from being out here for so long, and for a moment she could almost believe she was back home in Winhill on one of those rare winter days that saw the countryside blanketed in whiteness.

"It's wonderful, Tifa," Elle grinned, "You must have been reading my mind or something."

The other woman chuckled as she sipped her own drink. "Is that so?"

Elle nodded. "I was just thinking about home, that's all. I like to drink this stuff sometimes when it gets cold and just watch the snow come down for a while."

"I know what you mean," Tifa smiled, easing herself carefully onto the wooden swing bench nearby. "So do the clothes fit alright?"

Earlier in the week, Tifa had given a few of her old clothes to Ellone for her to keep, since the injured young woman's own garments had been torn and bloodied from her fall that terrible night. The dark green blouse Elle wore now was a little big for her, even though beneath it her chest was still wrapped in bandages to keep her bruised, aching ribs protected, but it warded off the early evening chill well enough. Tifa hadn't had any long skirts, so Ellone wore instead a pair of faded blue jeans. Soft leather boots protected her feet from the cold, and fewer wrappings bound her twisted ankle now that it had slowly begun to heal over the last few days.

"They're fine, thanks," Elle replied gratefully to her friend's inquiry.

Tifa nodded in satisfaction. "I was hoping they would be. Your own clothes are pretty much ruined, I'm afraid, what with the wet and the blood and all that. There really wasn't anything I could do."

"It's alright, Tifa. I know you did what you could," Ellone reassured her, "and I do like the clothes you've given me. They're very nice outfits."

"Thanks, Elle. What brings you out here, by the way?"

Taking another sip of her hot chocolate, Ellone sighed tiredly. "Just wanted to get a little fresh air. I've been cooped up in this house most of the week, after all."

It had been six days since Elle had first woken up that fateful night to find her wounds bandaged and Vincent watching over her. She had only gotten back on her feet just the other day, hobbling around a little bit and leaning on Vincent's good arm for support. Her bruised ribs and injured ankle still throbbed painfully with every limping step she took, but Ellone was determined to heal as quickly as she possibly could and find her way home.

"I understand," Tifa replied with a slight grin. "I'd probably feel the same way myself if I were in your position. Worse, actually. I'm a fighter, you know, and fighters are always the worst patients. Even now, I feel a bit restless sometimes, being pregnant and all and having nothing to do these days but mind the inn and have my baby…"

Here and there over the past several days, Tifa and Cloud had mentioned how, several years ago, they and their other friends had traveled across the world together to stop a madman and a powerful corporation from ravaging the planet. Ellone had noticed that her friends only spoke in the most general terms about it, perhaps hoping that by recalling such widespread events, it might jog Elle's memory or at least help her understand where she was. As fascinating as her friends' stories often were, Elle knew nothing of the events, people, or places they spoke of.

Elle nodded. "You miss the adventures sometimes, don't you?"

"Of course!" Tifa agreed. "It was dangerous back then, but in a way it was also fun, you know? Running around the world, fighting monsters, and just living in the moment. I still work out every morning, but… it's just not the same anymore…"

"You'll be okay," Ellone assured her. "Besides, look at it this way—you're about to go on a whole different kind of adventure now, right?"

The other woman smiled fondly at her enlarged abdomen. "I suppose you do have a point, Elle."

It was with a certain amount of jealousy that Ellone looked at her friend, unanswered longings filling her heart. She hated being alone, hated her power for robbing her of so many things that she might otherwise have been able to have. Things like love, a family of her own, or just being able to live without people always seeming to shrink back from her ever so slightly whenever she passed them on the street. She silently chided herself for her weakness, but couldn't push those uncomfortable emotions quite as far away as she would have liked.

"So, has Red found anything yet?" Elle asked quietly.

The intriguing and intelligent beast who went by the name of Red had promised to look in the vast books and libraries of his native settlement, a place called Cosmo Canyon, to see if he could find anything that might help her. After the last nightmare she'd jerked awake from a few nights ago, Elle had managed to contact him the next day and had informed him of what she had experienced in hopes that it might somehow aid him in his search.

Tifa sighed. "No, I'm afraid not. You've set him quite a riddle, Ellone. I wouldn't worry too much, though. There's no one better able to help you find the answers you need than him."

"I appreciate it. But I just wish I could at least contact Squall or Uncle Laguna to let them know I'm alright. They must be worried sick by now…"

"We'll get you home," Tifa assured her. "In the meantime, I should be getting back to work."

Ellone finished off the last of her hot chocolate, savoring the warm, sweet flavors of the rich, brown liquid, and handed the mug gratefully back to her companion. "Thank you for joining me, Tifa, and for the drink. It was delicious."

"You're welcome, Elle. And if you need anything, you know I'll be next door at the inn. The evening crowd should be making its way inside about now, so I should get going. Are you going to stay out here much longer?"

"I think so," Ellone nodded. "I want to keep moving about, you know?"

Tifa carefully rose to her feet, a mug in either hand, and looked at Elle with concern. "Alright, but you should probably bundle up a bit more if you do. The temperature here drops drastically once the sun goes down, and that blouse won't be enough to keep the cold out once it does."

"I'll keep that in mind, then," Elle replied dutifully.

"Good," the other woman nodded. "If you feel up to it, you're welcome to stop by the inn and see me. I'm usually behind the bar out in the common room."

Elle smiled. "I think I just might. It's not that far, after all, and the walk would do me good."

"Okay then. I'll see you in a bit!"

As her friend carefully stepped off the porch and made her way down the snowy lane toward the inn, Ellone leaned comfortably back in her chair. It was nice to finally have someone her own age she could talk with. She had never gotten to know Selphie or Quistis that well, or any of the others of the orphanage gang for that matter except for Squall. They were all at least several years younger than her, with their own lives and friendships to worry about, and despite how much she cared for those whom she had always thought of as her younger siblings, she had never gotten very close to any of them. Not even Squall knew her quite as well as he thought he did.

Tifa was different, although Ellone could not exactly say why. Perhaps because the young woman had never once complained about the imposition upon herself and her husband that Elle felt her presence brought, and that despite the strangeness of her story and the disorientation Ellone felt about her surroundings, Tifa sought to help her as best she could. Even though she had only known her for a few days, Ellone trusted her implicitly.

The sound of boots crunching through the nearby snow drew Elle's attention back to the present, and she looked up to see Vincent making his way toward her from around the corner of the house. In spite of herself, Ellone ran her good hand self-consciously through her short brown hair and felt her stomach flutter ever so slightly. The memory of falling asleep with his arms snugly around her sprang unbidden into the forefront of her mind. She had woken the next morning back in bed, realizing that he must have gently placed her there once she had drifted off. Elle had never forgotten the pleasant sensation of him holding her, however, and she thought of it again now almost without realizing it.

The last rays of the sun were just dipping beneath the horizon as Vincent joined Ellone on the front porch, standing nearby in his typical stoic demeanor. As always, he dressed almost entirely in black save for his crimson headband, and a thick black cloak adorned his shoulders in place of the red cape he had once worn. At either hip hung a loaded handgun, and across his back was strapped the double-barreled shotgun he referred to as the Death Penalty.

Elle had, in the few days she'd known him, come to learn that he never went anywhere without his weapons, even if it was just one of his little circuits around the house to make sure all was clear. It might have been disturbing to some people, but Ellone understood that he was a man who left nothing to chance and took his duties, no matter what they were, very seriously.

He tilted his head in her direction, acknowledging her presence, but said nothing at first. Typically expressionless, Vincent looked to Ellone to be perhaps thirty years of age or so, but his eyes seemed to convey something more, although Elle could not say what. She hadn't realized, either, just how tall he was until she had started to hobble around on her feet the other day, often with his help. Her face only just reached his narrow yet muscular shoulders, and his slim frame and black leather boots made him seem even taller than his actual six-foot height.

For a while, Ellone didn't say anything either but instead contented herself with watching the stars come winking out one by one as the skies gradually darkened from pale pinks and oranges to the darker shades of mauve and blue-black. The snow had long since ceased to fall, at least for now, and while the wind had abated somewhat, the chill in the air had grown much colder and fiercer with the setting of the sun. The frigid air nipped tenaciously at Elle's flesh and seeped relentlessly beneath her skin.

"Tifa was right," she murmured, shivering in spite of herself. "It got c-cold real fast, didn't it? A lot quicker than I thought it would…"

If he was at all affected by the sudden drop in temperature, Vincent didn't show it. "Indeed. It is not unheard of in this region."

Elle nodded in agreement. "I think I'll g-go inside and change into something a bit w-warmer, then."

Hobbling her way to the front door, Elle limped as gingerly as she could and tried not to put too much weight on her injured ankle. Her ribs ached with each uneven step she took, the light impacts of her feet against the wood paneling of the front porch coursing all the way through her strained and sore body. She was just a few feet from the door when a firm yet gentle hand came to rest on her arm.

"Wait…" Vincent urged her.

Ellone glanced at him quizzically. "What do you mean?"

In answer, he carefully removed his thick cloak and held it out for her. "Take this. It will do your recovery no good should you become ill."

"But… don't you need it?"

Vincent shook his head. "The cold does not bother me so much."

"Then why do you wear the cloak at all?" Elle wondered.

"Out of habit, perhaps," Vincent answered quietly. "I was not always as I am now, and behaviors such as these are… sometimes difficult to dislodge."

Smiling gently, Ellone nodded. "I think I understand."

With Vincent carefully holding the cloak out for her, Elle turned and gingerly slid her still sore arms into the wide sleeves of the heavy garment. The dark wool fabric smelled of gun oil and leather, masculine odors that Ellone found oddly comforting. Although the cloak was obviously too big for her, the sleeves extending well past her fingers and the hem brushing lightly against the sides of her boots, it did warm her considerably, enough so that her shivering abated somewhat.

Vincent stepped away as she snuggled into the cloak. "Is that satisfactory, Ellone?"

"Yes, thank you," she replied gratefully, limping gingerly back to her previous position at the rail of the front porch. "That's much better now."

"How long do you intend to remain outside?" Vincent inquired.

Ellone pursed her lips in thought. "I don't know, exactly, but I was going to visit with Tifa over at the inn for a while. Would you like to come?"

"That is acceptable," he agreed.

With his gentle guidance, Elle managed to limp down from the porch steps and onto the ground, her boots crunching loudly in the snow. She tightened Vincent's cloak further around her shoulders as the night wind's cool touch reddened her cheeks and the tips of her nose and ears. Sheltered warmly within the thick wool and leather garment, Ellone glanced for a moment at the welcoming yellow glow seeping out from the windows of the inn about a hundred yards away.

She had taken no more than a step, however, when her injured ankle suddenly gave way beneath her. The white landscape was suddenly rising up to meet her as she tumbled helplessly forward, her arms flailing outward in a futile struggle to regain her balance. Searing pain shot up Elle's leg and through her bruised ribs as she fell, her knees bending like jelly.

Abruptly, she felt strong arms wrapping quickly around her waist, catching her and gently bringing her back to her feet. Ellone instinctively grabbed onto Vincent's shoulders to steady herself and recover her balance, although she struggled to put any weight on her sprained ankle. The pain in her injured body diminished somewhat, although it did not go away entirely.

Ellone slowly gazed up at her companion, suddenly aware of just how close he was to her in that moment. He has such wonderful eyes, she thought. Those troubled, reddish-brown irises looked back at her now in concern, betraying the impassive mask that defined the rest of his face so very well. Her heart beating loudly in her ears, Ellone swallowed heavily, the pleasant sensation of Vincent's body pressing lightly against hers bringing sudden warmth to her blood.

Her fingers intertwined in the long, silken strands of his dark hair, Ellone realized she didn't want this to end. Time slowed almost to a halt, and even the wind seemed to have died. The reassuring weight of Vincent's firm hands held her securely at the small of her back, and the fact that one of those appendages happened to be of metal instead of flesh made no difference to her.

Eventually, though, Vincent gently released her, and the moment passed. Time resumed, as did the winter wind, and its icy touch against her skin brought Elle back to herself in a rush as though someone had thrown a bucket of frigid water directly into her face. She blushed furiously and looked away, running a hand bashfully through her short hair. What in Hyne's name had she been thinking?

"I, um… uh, that is, I…" Elle stammered, "Well… um… I, uh… I'm sorry I was so clumsy. I should've been watching my, um… step..."

Before she knew what was happening, Ellone felt Vincent wrapping his good arm snugly around her waist and pulling her gently to his side.

"Perhaps you should lean against me, should your steps falter again," he suggested.

Elle nodded, her heart fluttering within her breast at the thought of staying so close to him. She tentatively slid her hand up behind Vincent's back to rest upon his other shoulder, and with his arm supporting her, she was able to shift some of the weight from her wounded ankle as she let Vincent guide her through the snow toward the inn. Her ribs throbbed dully as she moved, but the pain barely registered in Ellone's mind at all, distracted as she understandably was by the silent yet reassuring presence of the man upon whom she leaned.

Trailing wisps of gray smoke drifted lazily up from the inn's gray brick chimney as Ellone drew near to the structure. Like most of the buildings in town, Icicle Lodge bore an uncannily strong resemblance to the ski cabins that dotted the rugged slopes near Trabia Garden back home. Built of fir and pine logs to keep the interiors warm, the quaint resorts were a favorite vacation spot for many travelers or for Garden students on leave. Elle had visited one with Laguna and Kiros once, ages ago it seemed, and the memory came back to her now as she looked curiously upon the inn that could have been a larger cousin to one of those Trabian log cabins.

Stepping carefully through the doorway, Ellone let her eyes wander past the front desk to the common room just beyond it. Flames burned merrily in the large brick and marble fireplace across the room, and murmurs of conversation floated through the air from the many people seated at the round, polished wood tables adorned with softly burning candles. The tantalizing aromas of freshly cooked meat, steamed vegetables, and hot buttered bread teased Elle's nostrils, and her stomach suddenly rumbled as she realized she hadn't eaten in hours.

The bar stretched along the common room's back wall, patrons filling the majority of the round stools as they nursed their drinks and talked with one another. A few men and women of varying ages busied themselves behind the shiny granite counter, pouring drinks and taking orders and a dozen other things, while others bustled industriously about the many tables as they served their customers.

Through a set of swinging double doors behind the bar came Tifa, followed by a cacophony of sound from the kitchen she had just left. The young woman eyed the scene around her with the air of one long experienced in such activities, and her gait as she walked was as confident and assured as the friendly smile she gave everyone, whether they were an employee or a customer. Pausing for a moment to give a few instructions to one of the bartenders, Tifa made her way over to where Ellone was sliding carefully onto an unoccupied stool while Vincent took an adjacent one.

"Elle, hi!" Tifa greeted her. "Glad you could make it! So what do you think of the place?"

"It's wonderful, Tifa," Ellone replied warmly. "You and Cloud seem to be doing pretty well for yourselves. No wonder you're always so busy."

Her raven-haired friend laughed. "It wears me out sometimes, but I like it."

"Well if you can spare a moment, do you think I could have something to eat?" Elle asked. "It smells so good in here, and I haven't had anything in a while."

"Of course! I was going to save something for you, anyway. Vincent, would you like anything?"

To Elle's left, her stoic companion nodded. "I would appreciate that."

"Alright, then," Tifa nodded. "I'll just be a minute."

It was actually slightly longer than that before she returned, bearing plates full of hot food in either hand. Elle spent the next half hour eating contentedly and chatting amiably with Tifa whenever her friend had a moment to spare. Vincent said little, as typically laconic as he almost always was, but Ellone still found herself grateful for his presence nevertheless.

Pushing back her plate at last, Elle let her gaze wander across the large, crowded room for a moment. Tifa had explained to her that a lot of the visitors were tourists who came to try their luck on the famous snowboarding courses just north of town where the mountainside sloped abruptly downward to the beginnings of the Great Glacier. In other cases, people came to the inn to sample some of Tifa's renowned cooking and legendary drinks. Although she had a staff to help her now, Tifa still preferred to do much of the work herself, both in the kitchen and out in the common room.

Ellone frowned as something caught her eye. Above the fireplace not far from where she sat, several framed pictures had been hung. One in particular held Ellone's attention, a modest-sized portrait of a young woman in her early twenties. The girl's chestnut brown hair was tied back in a long braid that lay draped over her shoulder, and above her gentle smile, her deep green eyes seemed to meet Elle's own in a gaze both peaceful and sad.

Without turning her gaze from the picture, Elle drew Tifa aside for a moment. "Um, that girl in the picture over there… Who is she?"

"Her name was Aeris," Tifa answered softly, a hint of sadness creeping into her voice.

Pulled along by some instinct or compulsion she didn't understand, Ellone carefully rose from her seat and limped slowly toward the fireplace, her eyes never leaving those of the sad, sweet girl Tifa had referred to as Aeris. Dimly, Elle was aware of Vincent also getting up, perhaps wondering what she was doing, but her attention was fixed solely on the portrait.

When she was just a few feet away from the hearth, Ellone stopped. Before she knew what was happening, a sharp gasp escaped her lips as a vision so real she might have been inside it flashed before her. The inn was gone, everyone was gone, even the girl, and Elle saw that around her was an empty city crafted out of living crystal, with a translucent staircase winding its way down from high above her.

Glancing down at herself, she found she was kneeling on an intricately sculpted marble altar, light seeping down from overhead. To her surprise, Cloud stood mutely before her, but when Elle tried to call out to him or even to move, she found that she could do neither. It was as though she was seeing all of this through someone else's eyes.

Aeris' eyes, she suddenly realized.

Ellone suddenly felt herself lurching forward as something long, narrow, and chillingly cold pierced her back and thrust out from her gut. In the reflection of the long, curving blade, she could just make out the image of a dark, sinister figure adorned with silver hair and cold green eyes. Before she could make any sense out of what she was seeing and feeling, the vision was gone, and the sights and sounds of the inn surrounded her once more.

She felt Vincent's good hand resting lightly on her arm, supporting her, but before she could do or say anything, another vision exploded into her mind. A black, withered Hand was crushing her, reaching inevitably for her throat, its cold fingers making her skin crawl. Fire and shadow filled her sight, but the Hand dominated it all, consumed it all as it was consuming her.

For a moment she was back in the common room, grasping desperately at Vincent's arm as her breath inexplicably began to leave her. Elle stumbled forward, grabbing at her throat as her vision grew dim, and before the darkness took her completely, she saw the Hand once again, smelled the stench of burnt and rotting flesh. She could feel its cold, clammy grip on her neck tightening savagely as it bore her down into the endless, shadowy depths, and as she collapsed on the common room floor, she heard a cold, soft voice whisper to her in the dark, before her consciousness fled.

You are mine.