Disclaimer: I don't own dipshit or any Final Fantasy 7 stuff...
=D I only got ONE review but I'm damned happy. Haha so aaaaaaanyways, IF ANYBODY even reads my stupid stories than I just want you to know is that the last chapter was kind of... fucked up –ahem-. Partially because I didn't REALIZE that there was an EDITING PART that you could go to BEFORE you posted it. So... yeah... I'm not that bright... =T but lets continue my crappy story, huh?
The Cost of a Good Deed.
His legs ached, he had ran for so long... just to get here. And for what? Emptiness. Absence. Who called, no, screamed for him then? In his daydreams and nightmares?! The cave was silent; no ghost or spirit appeared.
"Lucretia..." His voice was hoarse; how could his mind be so cruel to play these tricks on him? His mind whirled, his breath was short. Such a lack of oxygen was slightly dizzying. Another cackle blasted into his ears but he knew that if anyone else stood beside him, they would not here it.
Quiet Chaos, I'm not in the mood to listen to your wretched voice. Why wasn't Lucretia here? It made him feel as if tears were to weld up in his eyes but they did no such thing; he was unable to show emotion anymore. For the oddest reason, hope had built up inside him, hope that forced him to believe that Lucretia would be in the cave... with open arms.
Make me. Oh, poor Vincey-poo! Sad that your little slut isn't here to whore herself up with you? Hahaha. Flexing his fingers, Vincent knew that the creature labeled Chaos was within him and a part of him, ergo, he could not Shut. It. Up.
The Sun crawled across the sky; dark blue satin, dotted with sequins, was pulled over Vincent and all the other people. Though the ebony haired man was frustrated with his missing find, the reasonability of heading to Nibelhiem for rest was undeniable.
The mysterious AVALANCHE member moved as fast as his feet would carry him. If the cool night air only brought its million of insects that swarmed Vincent, furthermore, it began to rain. No. Rain was not the correct word for the storm, it was gushing buckets of water, the skies seemed to have had a break down and was in hysteria. But soon thoughts of Lucretia began to flood him also.
For once, Vincent Valentine had no idea where to go. It was almost three in the morning; the wet weather had slowed him down even after he lost his sense of time in the cave. Everything was dark and nothing was visible except for shadows in the darkness. Now how hard was it to see that?
"Vincent..." Her angelic cry pounded in his ears. He was hearing her again but a silhouette moved near the mountains.
"Lucretia...!" urgency dripped from his whisper as he ran towards the darkened figure; her hair was just like Lucretia's, it moved down her back but the skin of the arms were a ghostly pale.
Oh, please god let her be real. He was so close but saw the phantom woman began to lean forward over the edge of a cliff. She was going too fast; leaving him too fast. Not again.
"Lucretia! Don't go! Please!" The rain came down on the two; she was in arm's length but something was different about her. Vincent could care less; he would have her back. Reaching out his human hand, he reached for anything that could confirm that she was real. A wrist was all he could manage, plus, he miscalculated her momentum and was pulled with her towards the cliff's edge.
Mr. Valentine was overjoyed to have been able to touch her but horrified at the fact that he might lose her the second he got her back. The body flew over the edge while as his chest landed roughly on the dirty rock floor. The arm was slippery from the moisture that had connected to her skin but he refused to let her disappear into obscurity.
With every ounce of strength he had, he pulled her up unto the same level as he sat. Closing his eyes, he let out a sigh of relief as he wrapped protective arms around the slumping body. Vincent let his head droop into the female's hair but... it wasn't the same fragrance he remembered each and everyday. His arms held her shoulders as he let his glazed eyes search the young girl's face; it wasn't the gentle face his mind filled with, it was the fierce yet kindhearted face that belonged to no one but Tifa Lockheart.
"Vincent..." there she was again, but not even the slightest noise emitted from the hypothermic fighter that lay in his arms. Soon, the voices died down and all he could hear was the rain and his breathing... wasn't Tifa supposed breathing also...?
Her breath was shallow but it was something but if she kept losing heat, she wouldn't have anything to wake up to except for the Lifestream. Vincent pulled her into him once more then collected her from the floor and stood.
The only thing he could think of was the inn; it wasn't like he could walk into a house and hope it was hers. The innkeeper watched him with a cautious eye as he entered with a soaked girl wrapped in his crimson cloak.
"I... am in need of a room." The gunman looked straight into the elderly man's eyes; there would be no room for suspicion.
"I have one with two mattresses. Is that good?" Speaking with confident that most people would not have when Vincent Valentine's gaze pierced into his or her own.
"Yes." Trying to read the man behind the counter's mind, Vincent spoke with the same monotone as usual.
"50 gil." His eyes shifted from Vincent's face to Tifa's form. Did the innkeeper think Vincent was some kind of sick pervert? It didn't matter; Vincent paid the amount and carried Tifa up to their room.
Once inside, he moved around and looked for some kind of dry clothing. Finding none, he decided blankets would do just as good. Vincent set her down on one of the beds and looked around for a towel for himself. He removed his cloak and his shirt, leaving the towel that he used to dry his hair to drape on his broad shoulders.
Tifa hand began to inch around, maybe she was regaining consciousness but it was impossible to tell at the moment. Vincent maneuvered his way around the twin bed to the side he had left the woman on and wrapped his fingers, flesh and metal, at the hem of Tifa's plain black T-shirt. He took a big breath and turned his head away from her luscious torso that he was slowly revealing by pulling the saturated clothing off her skin. Next came her... jeans that once stood on its own but now clung to her legs as if it would melt away if it's grip loosened. Vincent knew he would only love Lucretia for eternity but Tifa's body would make any man blush. He peeled off the pants quickly; again making sure his eyes would not be tempted to peep.
Picking up the wet shirt and pants, he got up and started to move to the bathroom but a loud knock forced him to go towards the door instead, still with clothing in hand.
"Sir! We've received an alarming call and we'd like to ask you a couple of questions!" the muffled voice came through the door.
Vincent swung open the door and was greet by two police officers; their eyes traveled down his bare chest to the clothing he held, even worse they saw a half-conscious, almost-nude Tifa lying on the bed behind him. Their faces contorted into disgust, Vincent saw their expressions and looked behind him, then himself and the indubitable evidence that he held; praying to what ever god there was that they didn't think what they thought. Behind the police stood the innkeeper with an odd expression that was mixed between a sickened anger, relief of stopping from anything from happening and the slightest pride of knowing he was correct. Well, correct in everyone's eyes except for Vincent's. Who was the only one who knew the truth.
"You're coming with us, sir." The first officer stated.
"Officer..." Vincent's eyes glanced at his nametag. "Bennett. This is just a misunderstanding."
"Yeah, right. That's what they all say. You can make this easy or hard but it's late and I think we'd all prefer easy." The second officer, wait, officer 'Tham' answered sternly at Vincent.
A loud groan sounded behind Vincent, Tifa was getting closer to consciousness but that wouldn't help Vincent at the moment. Vincent Valentine never gives up, but he allowed himself to be taken away by the cops, it wasn't worth fussing about. But as he passes the innkeeper, who obviously knew Tifa, either as the 'heroine of the Planet' or as a friend, it didn't matter, the shirtless man managed to say some words before officer Bennett cuffed him and shoved him down the stairs and into the cold night chill.
"Wrap her in some blankets or else she'll freeze."
The elderly man's jaw went slack but he just watched as the police nudged him down the stairs. Officer Tham slowed down slightly and whispered to Mr. Innkeeper.
"Thanks for the heads up, who knows what this sicko would have done to Ms. Lockheart. She's lucky to have us to take care of her. She hasn't been the same since that body of Mr. Strife was found." Giving the senior citizen another smile before heading down with his partner and the culprit.
After Terry, the innkeeper, heard the police car drive away, he walked into Tifa's room and wrapped her up in all the blankets. He gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead and stroked her slowly drying hair, damn, she reminded him of his daughter, so intent on making herself perfect that fucking boy. A sly tear streaked down his cheek, remembering his beloved daughter... hopefully Tifa wouldn't have the same fatal fate that Mirri had had. Another tear rolled down his wrinkled face.
"...Terry...?" A hoarse whisper made its way to Terry, looking down, he saw that Tifa's eyes were straining to stay open.
"Just get some sleep, dear. You've been through a lot for tonight. Try to sleep." With that, Terry left.
The sun's rays peeked through the bars and the curtains. Tifa and Vincent were both fully awake, neither could get much rest throughout the night. Tifa had her nightmares but instead of them being a hopeless fog that clouded her mind, screams of regrets that stabbed at her heart; someone was there with her. A flutter of a red cape and a familiar presence and aura but as soon as she turned her head to see... the mysterious person was gone. Whoever it was, blew the fog away and pulled the daggers of regret from her but every time she tried to see who it was that was beside her, he'd disappear and everything would begin to suffocate her once more. So eventually, she stopped trying to figure out whose it was and just enjoyed the slightly numbed pain.
Vincent, on the other hand, was just having trouble with the sluts... or possibly drags that were sharing the same cell as him. He was very alert and was awakened several times because Chaos screamed to him that someone was too close. Seemed like not even Chaos was willing to let these people near Vincent. At least, these constant awakenings were sparing him nightmares. Anything was better than nightmares.
"Tifa?" a knock was heard. Tifa tried to speak but nothing came out, instead, a raspy whisper came out and her throat burned for many minutes.
"Seemed like somebody caught a cold. Hehe." A slight twinkle gleamed in Terry's eyes as he came up with some soup for breakfast.
Grabbing a pen and a notepad, Tifa scribbled down 'How did I get here?'.
"Some man brought you here... I think he had some intentions that weren't very noble. I called the police and he was arrested. We... we found you in what you're wearing right now."
Tifa choked on the chicken soup she was slurping, a man? She ferociously wrote down another message. 'A man? Who?'
"I'm not sure. But he should be in the Nibelhiem Jailhouse right now." He answered with the same patience he had been showing Tifa for the last six months after Cloud's death. Tifa's body moved slowly out of bed but then saw what she was wearing... more... what she wasn't wearing.
"Hehe. Here." A wrinkled smile creased his face as he passed Tifa some clothing; it wasn't hers though. She began to dress quickly as Terry turned his back to her, giving her sweet privacy.
"The man, how did he look like?" Trying to ease the tense silence that had floated down since she began to clothe herself but her voice continued to crack.
"He had long black hair... but no where close to as how long yours is. He was also very... intimidating; he stood a good six feet. And he was deathly pale. Just plain suspicious if you ask me." Terry seemed more than happy to talk.
Pale? Black hair? ...Intimidating? Oh, it can't be. The innkeeper's description almost fit Vincent Valentine perfectly. Her voice was barely a whisper. "Did he have red eyes?"
"Oh yes! That's what was so spooky about him." A low groan radiated from the brunette.
'I have to go see him.' She wrote down to Terry. Oh god. Please don't be Vincent.
After finished eating she walked down to the jail. Her heart pumped loudly in her chest, if it really was him, then everything would change... again. Tifa didn't want change, everything was slowly getting back into a routine... she liked a routine. Don't lie to yourself. You miss it. The thrill, the rush, you missed it all. She argued with herself all the way to the small prison.
Earlier that morning though, around five. Vincent sat there, shirtless and thoroughly chilled. The drag prostitute that he was put in the same cell with kept glancing towards him. Don't make a move. Don't make a move. He recited the mantra in his mind; hoping that it would happen. He had very little tolerance left after being arrested; he couldn't guarantee a Chaos-free jail if that wench decided to 'seduce' him.
But. We all know that Vincent has pretty bad luck. Therefore, she... he... the bitch made a move. She sauntered over towards his 'sleeping' form and jabbed him in the ribs... hard.
"Hi, sweetheart. Want to have some fun?" That slut ended her sentence with a wink.
"No. Go away." He now sat up, making sure to keep his anger that swelled in him contained.
"Oh. Come on. I want it. I know you want it. For god's sake, the guard wants us to have it. So lets have it." Her voice was low and supposedly sultry, but it came out slightly... manly.
"Get. Away. From. Me. Now." His eyes were now a menacing blood red as they slid to his right, looking the annoying hooker in the eye. She still didn't seem to get it through her dyed blond hair or maybe her large amount of make-up was blocking her own sight. But either way, her hand trailed up his thigh.
It didn't make it very far before his stress was finally balled into a fist and struck the whore in the jaw. After the attack, his cellmate lay on the floor, sprawled, not moving a muscle. Valentine gave a triumphant smirk and let his eyes droop and shut; his sleepiness welcomed nightmares.
But only three hours later, Tifa walked into those doors and saw a very recognizable sleeper.
"Vincent?!" Right after her words, she began to cough but it managed to wake him up. It was almost amusing how fast he shot up from the hard bed.