Yeah. This week has been bad. Not that I've done anything, but I found out that one of my friends is leaving school and coming back next year. I thought I had issues. Finals are going to be hell. Someone please review? Make my day at least a little better...
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All the possibilities, thought Rynn as she savoured the feel of Vincent's arm around her. He smiled as they walked, plucking a flower from one of the bouquets in the lobby and handing it to her. It's hard to believe that this man is the best of snipers. He is so full of passion that it's hard to see him cold and emotionless in the spyglass of a rifle. She tucked the rose behind her ear and tucked the whimsy away into her mind.
"Where to, my lady?" he asked softly.
"Anywhere you wish," she replied.
They walked through the streets of Midgar and she noticed things that, Vincentless, had been missing, things that stunk of joy and celebration even in the magnificence of poverty and ruin. This is from whence we came, she observed.
"This is my favourite place," he told her as they stopped before the door of a dilapidated restaurant. A sign read DARCY'S PLACE in big black block letters. Opening the door for her, he wondered, Is this why I had that daydream this morning? He often let his mind wander, sketch out different ideas using familiar styles. It usually painted scenes of Lucrecia, his favourite medium, but lately such scenarios had varied from the flowery romance genre and strayed into darker areas.
They sat at one of the smaller tables as a waitress came over to them. "Vincent, hello! I haven't seen you in at least a month!" Noticing Rynn, she remarked, "Is this the girl you said I absolutely had to meet?"
There was an embarrassed moment. Oh no, I did tell her about Lucrecia! I thought that was just a dream!
"Of course," he responded, not wanting to look like an idiot."Darcy, this is Rynn. She's a Turk like me, only better."
"Oh please," retorted Rynn. "Everyone knows that the great Vincent Valentine is unsurpassed in all things Turk. I am pleased to meet you, though, Darcy." She showed no signs of surprise or anger, and he wondered if she had even thought of Lucrecia upon hearing Darcy's question. Good, I saved it, thought Vincent.
"Likewise," the woman responded. "I'll get you some water. Take a look at the menu, and I'll be back in a second."
"Do you like it here?" asked Vincent. "I've never brought anyone down here because I figured they would all want someplace more upscale, but I love this restaurant. I've known Darcy since I was a kid on the streets. She took me in, helped me some when my family got unbearable." I was planning on taking Lucrecia here, but as she is so preoccupied with her uber-important scientific nonsense, it's doubtful I ever will.
"I love it," said Rynn. "It's good not to eat in some formal place all the time." I never would have guessed that Vincent was like this. I thought he was all elegance and fashion. Maybe there is something of home burned in him, preserved for all these years. She had grown up in a privileged household and joined the Turks to be a spy and technician. Unfamiliar with the violence of the streets, she nevertheless beat out many other candidates to earn her place in the group.
They ordered sodas when Darcy returned. Vincent got something known to Rynn as 'the Usual.' Rynn requested macaroni and cheese, declaring she would save room for dessert. The food had essence of home embedded in it, even to one such as Rynn who was unfamiliar with the term 'home cooking.' Something about it was comforting to her, and upon remarking on it, Vincent said he felt it too.
For dessert he again wanted 'the Usual,' but with two spoons. "You have to try this," he said after Darcy went to bring them the mystery dish. "It's the most wonderful thing in all of Midgar...well, mostly. But I can safely say that the two most wonderful things in Midgar are with us today."
Is he always this ambiguously verbose? Vincent's capacity for words had always amazed her, since he had, essentially, picked himself up from his impoverished roots. He had gone to college on scholarships because he was so bright, but his childhood years had been devoid of education except in the school of the streets. The one I never graduated from. She smiled at the compliment. "I am sure that whatever it is, it will be excellent."
"Have any plans after this?" he asked. Hopefully she doesn't, although I may need some time to mull over what has happened today. I'm on a date- a date!!!- with Rynn, of all people. Did I stop loving Lucrecia? Am I being unfaithful?
Darcy waltzed over. "Behold, Vincent, the crowning glory of all desserts!" she announced. It was indeed royalty among postprandial treats. A graham cracker pie crust encircled a ring of raspberries, apples and pears drowned in vanilla custard. The fruit was served, as amber saves the choicest relics of time, via a glossy icing.
Rynn made several exclamations over its beauty. Vincent cut a piece, tenderly, and let it make its way into her mouth. She wiped a bit of the sugary icing off her lips and sucked on one of her fingers as she stared insolently across the table. Vincent suddenly knew what his plans were for the night.
I do not regret this decision, he thought as Darcy cleared the last traces of crust from the table amid Rynn's praise of her creation. "If poetry were food," declared the Turk, "you would be a master wordsmith."
"You should be proud, Darcy; Rynn majored in computer science and creative writing during college," warned Vincent. "I have no idea how she ended up in her line of work, but it happens." He shrugged.
"You Turks are all alike," tsked Darcy. "Flatterers." Vincent paid her with a generous tip and a promise to return soon. He held out his arm for Rynn, who took it with a flounce. She bade Darcy goodbye as they went out the door. They seemed to float down the street.
"You know," she said to him, "I never thought I had a chance with you."
"I never thought about having a chance with you," he answered. "I'm glad it transpired this way, however, because otherwise it may not have been so utterly perfect." If I make my way to Nibelheim now, he decided, it will only be to tell Lucrecia that I have moved on. After so long, the death bell had finally tolled for their love. Any regret he felt in that moment dissipated, dissolved, when Rynn's lips found their way to his.The crimson passion of Rynn seared away the icy strands of Lucrecia wrapped around his heart.
It was not surprising that people on the streets stopped to stare, for Rynn in her snappy suit cut a notorious figure- if they did not know Rynn, they surely recognized the uniform and its dubious origins- and Vincent in his ruby red black leather, familiar locks and violet eyes with guns polished at his sides was unmistakably The Turk, the one who had started it all; furthermore, such a brilliant display of affection was unusual, and two tigers who fearlessly shut out the world in a fit of public privacy demanded the attention of many pedestrians. In fact, three street toughs rushed them at that instant when their desire had gone from controlled to rampant, determined to make a profit out of such a spontaneous display.
What?! Vincent saw them in his excellent peripheral vision, broke off from Rynn and had his guns out before any of the thieves realized that their victims weren't as ignorant as they seemed. A passerby screamed, igniting the attention of many, and a general panic ensued as Vincent fired the first gunshots. One attacker went down, bleeding heavily from a serious head wound that Vincent knew from long experience in such affairs would prove fatal in the end. Damned ruffians never learn! Undoubtedly at least one of them thought it would be great fun to test the two entranced lovers walking down the street. Well, these lovers aren't so fun to provoke!
The second bandit fired at Vincent, who dodged. It's going to take more than that, buddy, if you even want a piece of me! Not bothering with his guns, which he often found tiresome, Vincent started forward and snapped the man's neck with an easy twist. He was far from overpowering in strength, but he was well-trained in combat, and his dexterity compensated for whatever else he lacked.
However, Rynn had been hijacked by the third bandit, who was off and running as he saw his comrades fall, using her as a shield. "Shoot and she dies!" he admonished Vincent.This was punctuated by a loud crack as Rynn shot him point-blank in the heart. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why no one should attack a Turk. She ran to Vincent and asked if he was okay. He blinked at her. "What else would I be?"
"I forgot you didn't know how to be injured, O fearless leader," she replied. "Well, let's get going before some pathetic excuse for authority strolls up and asks questions."
While we were innocent of any crime except self-defense, it's better just not to deal with any flak from someone who thinks he's in charge. "Indeed," he said gravely and took her arm as if nothing had happened. There was blood on her uniform but it didn't look out of place.
"Well, Vincent, do you want to meet up with me later, or do you want to come in?" Rynn asked, her voice slightly flushed, as she ambled up the steps to her apartment. Her smile was like sunflower verse, upturned and ready to greet him in her cheerful manner. As he debated the options, he decided, I might as well make this memorable.
"I like you just the way you are, but if you must change out of your uniform, well," and here a sparkle dampened his eye- "I could help you..."
He tossed her the keys to his heart and she unlocked the door and they went in together.
"Well, Rynn," he said when she had settled him on her couch and was making tea for them. Are you sure? he asked himself. You can back out now, Vincent, last warning, last chance.
Yes, his heart answered. This is real. He felt this conviction deep within his soul, and decided to give it the weight it ought to have.
So when Rynn abandoned her tea and asked him if he could shoot the stars for her one by one with that silly gun of his, he said he wouldn't mind. He felt so confident in his feelings that forever didn't seem like a hard concept, and so he took what she had to offer, growing more confident with each kiss that he had made the right decision.
The authorities had finally come and carted away the bodies by the time Vincent woke, fumbled for his clothes and a pen and wrote a few scrambled ideas down for Rynn to digest. He stumbled out, eyes red from crying. Oh by Holy Lucrecia I'm so sorry why did I ever I can't change the past and I can't make it up to you not now never again. "Never again!" he raged. What have I done- I've destroyed my whole life... and hers...Rynn...
He was clutching his memories of Lucrecia close. He had no idea where he was going, to what he was doing...he ran through Midgar, barely stopping to see where he was, and ran to the Shinra building. He took the nearest car, smashed open the window, hardly caring, and hijacked it Turk-style to the end. He drove out of the city as fast as he dared.
Stealing someone's prize Gold Saucer racing chocobo to continue his rushed maddened journey. He flew to the nearest forest, swam across a river. I will get to you I promise I think I hope to make it better.
Vincent. Rynn smashed the wineglass in her hand, moaning as she considered what he'd done. She'd woken to nothing, expecting to see the one she'd finally captured there. You fool, she cursed herself. Did you delude yourself into thinking that he loved you? That he would renounce Lucrecia just for your sake? Because if you did, that was pretty stupid. Although she knew that she had done so, she couldn't come to terms with it just yet.
What had he left her? A note, not even. Its contents were as labyrinthine as the mind of the man from whence they came. It read, in his elegant gorgeous handwriting, crimson like blood and tears:
Rynn I need her I can't help myself
Too scared of change...too afraid of my own fucking heart.
(Some perverse part of her smiled. Only Vincent could use 'fucking' so eloquently.)
Rynn I'm sorry I tried so hard but
Can't escape what holds me tight
Must get to her tonight and see
Was going to give her up
My own unfaithfulness
And your love
Undeserved. Unworthy. Unable.
She thought, It wasn't you who was unworthy, Vincent. I should have known.)