Author's Note: This title is based off of a letter a friend had of her grandfather back in WW2. He mentioned his dream of being treated by a pretty blonde noisse. If I recall, he did get his wish. Considering the story, I thought it would be funny and give a nod to a cool man I never got to meet.

I also wanted to make note that I will be making minor references to the events in When the Sun sets in Ardea, when Vincent makes in comparisons with current events in the story with what he knew. Just an FYI.

-------------------------------------- Chapter 2- Pretty Blonde Noisse

The remaining people who sat in the waiting room stared at the spectacle. Cait Sith stood near the doorway encase Vincent made for the door again. Tifa and Reeve stood in the hallway each with a foot trying to drag Vincent toward the room. Reeve could not help to realize how much it was like someone trying to drag a cat to a tub of water.

"Isn't this a little beneath you, Vincent? It's just a doctor; two minutes!" Tifa complained as her feet slipped slightly against the thin carpet.

"That's two minutes too long!" Vincent protested. Seeing an open doorway, he reached for it with his gauntlet and hung on. What little progress Reeve and Tifa made suddenly came to a stop. Looking at each other and giving a silent count, they threw what they could and pulled. Vincent's grip, not matter how hard he tried, began to slide along the pastel walls, his claw dragging.

One of the waiting patients watched with a mixture of fear and curiosity. Soon, Vincent disappeared from sight. After further struggle, they somehow managed to get him into one of the exam rooms.

Vincent's red eyes scanned the white room with speculation. Several posters about hygiene and the side section of the throat hung on the wall. A small table covered with a strip of white paper sat in the far corner surrounded by several chairs, a rolling side table and sink and cabinets. He hated being in the room, but he hated his fear even more. He knew no true harm was going to come upon him while he was there. Vincent first hand knew Hojo was long since dead; that he made sure of. So what was he so afraid about?

Reeve, Tifa and Caith Sith stood outside the room waiting to see what would happen next. To their amazement, Vincent did not move far from where he stood. Finally, a young redheaded man dressed in a white lab coat walked past them carrying a clipboard. He nodded to them and entered the room where Vincent stood.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Valentine. I'm Dr. Roth." The doctor shut the door. At first it was quiet and that was then it began.

A little blonde boy's eyes went wide he heard the door pounding and pleading for help. To him, it sounded like what he had feared about his visit to the doctor. Everyone else looked over toward where Tifa and Reeve stood, murmuring. Tifa shrugged trying to ignore Vincent's shrieking cry for help. With the combination of the pounding, scraping and his scratching, strained voice one could almost believe someone was actually being murdered.

"Should we go in there?"

Reeve looked at Tifa and then at the door. "We probably should..." Before he could say more, the doctor quickly dodged out holding the door shut behind him.

"I am going to need my nurse for this one." He muttered and then looked at the group in the hallway. "Is your friend post-traumatic or something?"

"He's just hasn't been out for a while."

The doctor gave the odd group a scrutinizing look. "Maybe you two or three can go in there and calm him down." The doctor then ducked into a side room. "Gees, ever since Meteor, I swear every weirdo has crawled out from under the rocks." He mumbled as he called for his nurse to meet him at the front desk.

Tifa looked back and found the exam room had finally fallen silent. "I'm going in." She mentioned as she approached the door. Knocking, she slowly turned the knob and slipped inside.

Reeve stood silently and waited. He and Cait sith looked at each other and then at the exam room door. Reeve finally opened the door and found Vincent seated down on one of the chairs with Tifa perched up on the small skin counter. The red eyed gunman seemed strangely silent despite his earlier display of objection.

Not a moment sooner, the door opened again, this time by the doctor and his nurse. Reeve took note of the nurse in her tight white outfit and fluffed blonde hair. She was dressed more for show then for actual function.

It took all Vincent's courage to remove himself from the chair he sat on to move to the exam table the doctor has directed him to. "As I mentioned earlier, this will be a simple physical exam. I just want to look at a few things before we go any further. Now your record shows it has been a while. Is there any reason for that?"

Vincent pulled his eyes away from the nurse for a moment to the doctor. 'I suppose I could tell him that after I had been injected by alien cells and locked in a coffin for thirty years, I just didn't see a reason to come in.' "No." He decidedly answered.

The doctor frowned for a moment as he jotted a few notes down. Vincent was then asked to remove him shoes, cape and claw so he could be weighed. He fought it for a moment, especially the claw, but managed to remove the required articles. Those were then handed to his companions to hold. After so much time, Vincent for the first time actually saw his left arm. All he saw was pale, dingy skin and a vague purple scar just above where a needle had consistently been placed.

Further examination became a blur in his fever-induced state. His eyes drifted from one thing to another until they settled back on the nurse.

"I need your to open your mouth, sir."

Tearing his eyes away, Vincent looked at the doctor. It was a simple command and Vincent reasoned with himself that he could do it. 'All he wants to do is look at my throat. There are no needles involved. The sooner you let him do that, the sooner you can get out of here.' However, what reasons he gave himself, when it came to actually doing it, his mouth would not open. His phobia ultimately won. After several tries, he managed allow the doctor to look.

The doctor left the room leaving his nurse behind. She had already begun to prepare the shot of penicillin that was directed to be given to him.

"How long have you and your friends been in the theatre business?"

Vincent only shrugged, his attention being drawn to her partial unbutton white blouse. Finding he was staring, Vincent forced his eyes back up to her face. It had been a while since he had seen a woman who wore a white blouse like Lucrecia did.

"There, that wasn't so bad was it?"

Blinking, he looked at where she had pushed his black sleeve up and given him his shot. 'Damn, she's good. I didn't even notice.'

The doctor returned with a prescription and directions.

Back in the car, Vincent sucked on the cough drop he had been given silently. He knew he had been sick, but never realized how sick he really was. 'I am sure after that little stunt, they probably thinking they should have taken me to the shrink first before the doctor. But I warned them.' He pulled his red cape around himself tightly and let his head rest against the side of the car.

Tifa watched as the neon and billboard lights flashed by as they left one sector of Midgar to another. Feeling her stomach growl with hunger, she looked over at Reeve.

"Should we get something to eat? I know Sunshine back there needs to eat something before he takes his happy pill."

Vincent growled. "It's Mr. Sunshine."

Tifa glanced back. "Oh good, I think he is returning back to his normal somber self."

Vincent let his head drop down behind the deep collar of his cape.

"I suppose we should. I am rather hungry myself." Reeve answered as the car came to a stop at the traffic light. There were several places they could stop before they reached his apartment. The best choice would be Burger Miester, but the thought of dragging Vincent into a crowded, busy place like that seemed to summon up very unpleasant images. First there would be the problem with kids wanting to pull on Vincent's cape. Vincent smash would be the initial reaction. Then there would be just general people, same kids, but with snotty noses and noise resulting in another Vincent smash. And then there is the whole thing of the possible indecision of what Vincent would what to eat...then it would be Reeve smash.

Shaking his head, the car started up again down the road. "Let order take-out. There is a decent Wutai place nearby."