A/N: Nothing particularly of importance to say, other than please read and review and yadda yadda, the baddies and Luciel belong to yours truly, but Vincent doesn't, and neither does Cloud and other SquareSoft icons... thank you.
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Vincent had seperated from Luciel when they went through the door and found yet another underground cave blocked their path. As soon as he was a good distance away he leaned against the wall, trying to calm his breathing as the fire spread inside his lungs, each breath like hot, scalding sand. He squeezed his hand over his chest and turned into the wall before continuing on, his chest rattling constantly. He gave himself a little shake. The smell of blood aroused the monster inside of him like nothing else. There was no hint of blood trail this time, so they had decided to split up.
On the other side of the little maze, Luciel was walking along with his head looking in all directions. Knowing that he was about to shot at brought back a lot of memories. He remembered feeling at odds with everything around him when fleeing the Shinra Turks with Vincent. He didn't forget how it felt to fall asleep with him in the car, the warmth of his breath against his cheek, the warmth of their bodies sustaining the heat to be comfortable.
It was easier to remember all that when Vincent wasn't with him. Of course Luciel didn't wish he could return to being his old self. He had come to terms with that awhile ago, realizing that something terrible did happen to Vincent that went far beyond their foolish daliance. A deep wound that Luciel would have to work hard to help heal. But not now. After he rescued his daughter. For now he was pissed off that he had approximately jack for ideas about which way he was supposed to go. He was tired of running; his feet felt like leaden objects glued to the ends of his aching legs. He kept his complaints to himself until he saw a door just ahead.
He cupped his hands. "Vincent! I found the door!"
A few moments later Vincent seperated himself from the shadows, becoming a new shadow before he was clear again. The gunman bent his head, covering his mouth. Luciel's body temperature felt like it plummeted. He jumped away from the door and grabbed onto him. "What's wrong with you?" he said. "Vincent, c'mon, we gotta get moving."
"Can't," he breathed, leaning against him. Luciel happened to brush his hair back from his face. It was burning hot.
"Damn it! Why didn't you tell me you were sick?" Luciel said accusingly, sitting him down on the ground. "I could have waited or found someone else to help me."
"That's really heartening to hear you say that," Vincent snapped, growling and grimacing at him. "Perhaps you're right. And then maybe you would have lived happily ever after with someone else by your side."
"Are you saying you're jealous? You're sending awfully mixed messages here. You can't convince me otherwise about what kind of person you are. Nobody else but you would have agreed to help me find my kid. Everyone else would have laughed at me. Nobody cares about one stupid orphan. But she's my orphan!"
Vincent said nothing.
Luciel sat next to him in the dirt, closing his eyes and resting his face in his hands. Why did I have to be a jerk and bitch at him like that? "Let's just take a break now. I don't think he'll get very far with an injury like that..."
"He had glowing eyes," Vincent said. "Like Cloud or Sephiroth. I couldn't see the rest of his face..."
"That's okay. At least we know almost what he is." Luciel propped himself up against the wall by the door and smiled at him warmly. "Come over here and relax. We'll get some shut-eye."
Vincent, deep in his heart, felt the sting of Luciel's resentment. He needn't have to say it. He could hear it, staining the mirror of his reflection with black ink from a thousand letters he hadn't written. When he leaned his head against the soft earth he stared into the darkness above them, an endless expanse where invisible eyes watched.
Luciel was curled up against the wall, facing the outside world with his pistol in his hand, safety on, pressed against his cheek. He stared for a long moment. The way the small light played on the metal, the softness of his hair, tied back from his face. Long, blonde strands. His eyes didn't move underneath the closed lids. Luciel was perfect when he was asleep. He was beautiful and young when he was awake... but when he slept, he was an angel.
The gunman turned away, closing his eyes and trying to remember a time before Hojo. It seemed thousands of years into a past that didn't belong to him. Luciel loved a different man, someone wholly different... more human. A man who could still feel-- he couldn't even think of the word, it ill-suited his thoughts. He rolled over, clutching his metal arm to himself. A ghost of sensation flowed through it as he squeezed it to his aching ribcage.
Slowly as his thoughts wound down, the sensation faded as well. Of course he felt nothing in his arm. It was gone. Just as if Hojo had torn out his heart, he imagined that he felt nothing there either. If he did...
What if he did? Luciel never looked at anyone else like he looked at Vincent. He knew from how he handled his dealings with others that he had an impatient air around them. He wanted to get rid of them as soon as he could, shake them off as a chocobo shook away the flies.
He couldn't get enough of Vincent. He wanted to talk to him, baited him with conversation starters which Vincent consented to discuss for about as long as Luciel could keep the string of questions going. But it was good to talk to someone... even though Vincent wouldn't admit it.
How could he tell them that the heart he had so selflessly given belonged to a dead man? Unacceptable. Luciel wouldn't accept no for an answer, no more than he would accept no when he was a younger man, full of vigor and that desperate, endearing need to be loved. How could anyone refuse such a need? Vincent had. Oh, he did it straight-faced and undisturbed. No trace of how it tore himself apart had appeared in his writing of that last letter before he left Luciel unconscious in his apartment.
He couldn't let Luciel continue like he had. He couldn't stand by and watch him destroy himself for something as wretched and soaked in sin as Vincent Valentine. He felt his own heartbeat slow as his breathing took a turn for the more relaxed. No, he insisted softly as the dreams took him into nightmares. No, Luciel... I can't...I can't...
- - - -
Luciel turned over slowly, and faced the wall against which he'd been sleeping for about an hour or so. He sat up slowly, a tightness having wound its way around his neck and down his back. He didn't feel like he'd slept at all.
Vincent was already awake. Perhaps he hadn't even fallen asleep at all. His face looked drawn and pale and, if his vision didn't fail him, eyes bloodshot and puffy. Hours of non-sleep did that to a person. Luciel also could hear his rattling breathing from where he was standing, ten feet away. He rubbed the back of his neck, grimacing.
"He'll be long gone by now," he said softly, checking his watch. "But I think if we don't come across anymore troubles like this one, we'll be alright reaching their hideout and the kids."
Vincent said nothing.
Luciel tilted his head in his direction, saw the cool profile of his hero trapped in what appeared to be a brooding, meditative state. His perfectly proportioned nose, his ruby-red eyes. The man wondered how in the hell it all happened, that Vincent Valentine had just disappeared completely. And there was this strange, brooding monster in his place, claiming his name. Not a day older.
So different, though. Uncanny. Luciel was tempted to reach out and take his arm, touch his face, see if he could see that same fire spark inside of him. It would be so very easy. What the hell? Luciel moved, his feet stepped automatically as he stood beside him and took his hand. Vincent froze. It seemed every function was completely arrested by this very innocent, soft touch.
Luciel frowned, holding onto him and tilting his head up at him. "Are you afraid of me?"
"Myself," Vincent said tenderly, slowly detaching his fingers from his metal claw. Luciel didn't move.
"Do I still mean anything to you? I mean, I know angst and misery are your realm of expertise, but I'd like to think that maybe you look at me and miss me... sometimes. That I'm someone you actually cared about..." the other gunman sighed, brushing his hair back with a sigh. "Besides just... some guy you knew, a long time ago."
Vincent stepped up toward the doorway and slowly pushed the door open. His back was to him, hiding his face. When he spoke, it was with great patience and chilling apathy. "I was hoping you would be sensible and move on. I told you that person is dead."
"I don't believe that for a minute. After all you could have flipped me off and walked away without another word. But I called and you came like some knight in shining armor, to help me save a young girl you don't even know! You're here, aren't you? And you may not be the same person. I won't be stupid and think that you haven't changed. But I still want to know you again. I don't think I'll ever stop being that boy who wanted you more than anything else in the world."
Vincent said nothing. Luciel narrowed his eyes. Sometimes, he really got annoyed with his large spans of silence. They traveled for an hour, climbing over things, traveling a handful of miles as they did so, over sharp rocks, hunks of metal, as though the whole of Midgar had sunk beneath the earth to rot and moulder for eternity. They felt their way through the darkness and the wet moisture that seeped from everything, like blood from open wounds. Throughout it all, a heavy, choking luminescent fog hung over everything. Vincent's only words after a long silence was to warn against its poison.
Vincent finally came to a stop. They reached a long, open tunnel, where piles of rock where stalagmites met stalagtites met to create solid struts for the upper crust to rest upon. Across tumbled boulders, there was a small water treatment station sitting beside an empty reservoir with the lights off. The blood trail was only an hour old.
"Gotta be in there," Luciel said, trembling as he crouched behind a rock. "Nowhere else they can be. This is the biggest chamber yet... What are they planning to do with these kids, all the way down here?"
Vincent didn't say anything, but he began to sense a power underneath all these rocks. It was a gentle tremulation that was undetectable by most men - but Vincent could sense it,directly beneath his feet. Not the deep, heavy breathing of the monster near the subway entryway. But something alive nonetheless. Something... waiting.
Suddenly Luciel straightened, stiffened, like a well-trained canine straining at the leash, but not pulling hard. His eyes lightened. The doors were opening. Vincent watched in interest, his hand slowly bringing back the hammer of his weapon. The dripping of the caverns masked the metallic, heavy clicking.
A man with black hair and another man with blonde hair stepped out. Luciel held his breath, not because of his apprehension, but because of stark surprise. He hadn't met him in person, nor had he been greatly interested in looking at his TV interview, but all of his good sense told him that the blonde man looked almost exactly like Cloud Strife.