Hey there, man, high school is harder than I thought it'd be. Wow. I hope you're all patient people because I'm swamped with homework constantly. Sorry for the late update.
One Plus One Equals Nothing. One Plus Another Equals One Man in Jail.
Ripped clothing and dirty shoes.
This was the only reward he got when he had reached the empty cave. No spirit, no Lucrecia. Just a plain cave.
It made Vincent want to tear out his own hair and cry.
But he did neither. Instead, with a heavy heart, he headed towards Nibelhiem before the dark would become so thick it would be impossible to see.
Another sigh passed his lips as the sun began to set and the moon dragged navy satin dotted with shimmering sequins across the sky.
How many more nights would he live before he would have his love back in his arms? If ever? An enchanting yet haunting voice had long followed him. Beckoning him to come find her. 'Please' it begged.
It would never quiet until he found her.
But not too long ago had the former Turk began to wonder: was it a ghost that spoke or simply his guilt and insanity catching up to him?
Either way, he needed to find her. A way to have her alive once more.
He'd grown desperate in the last couple of months. Terribly desperate.
Thunder suddenly crackled dangerously, then, another moment passed before the sky tore open and let out drowning amounts of water like a broken down fool in hysteria. Vincent sped up his pace however his metal shoes sank easily into the mud.
An animalistic growl escaped his throat. Damn the storm. Damn the rain. Damn the world. He thought with bitterness.
---
Nibelhiem was covered in a blanket of abyss with a few exceptions of the late-nighters. As he walked into the small town, a silhouette began to focus through the drizzle.
Long hair and slim figure. It was more than familiar to the gunman. Rushing towards the shadow, the voice blared into his ears like so many times before. "Vincent! Please save me! Please!"
"Lucrecia..." Barely a whisper, he dashed towards her but the faster he ran, the farther she seemed to be.
The phantom teetered on the cliff of the Nibel Mountains. Without warning, just as Vincent was near enough, her knees buckled and her arms outstretched; like an angel. Her form tipped over towards a sure death.
"Don't leave me!" His voice cut through the wind as his fingers brushed the skin of her arm.
Gripping her wrist hard enough to leave bruises, he stumbled, trying not to fall over the edge himself.
Pulling them both backwards onto solid ground, he held her close. Whispering inaudible and incoherent ravings into her ear.
His clothes clung to his body and his bandana was loose, covering his right eye. Onyx tresses stuck to his cheeks as he silenced. Terrified of reality, he gently and slowly grabbed the woman's shoulders and pulled her back so he could see her face.
It was most definitely not Lucrecia's. At that moment, Valentine's world nearly collapsed into itself with the newest failure. He gazed closer at her and watched as memorable eyes unfolded and stared back at him. Tifa Lockheart.
"... Vin... cent?" Without anymore than that, her consciousness slipped away once more.
---
The inn wasn't hard to find but trudging through the streets and mud was a difficult task, especially with those damnable shoes. The ex-Turk carried his former comrade into their room. With twisted amusement, Vincent thought back a few minutes ago when he strolled up to the innkeeper with soaked, lifeless girl in hand.
"Uh.." The man was old, far past his retirement age. "May I help you?"
"I need a room." Trying to keep up his frighteningly cold demeanor, the gunman attempted to ignore a bold raindrop that was getting dangerously close to his left eye. He mustn't wink it away lest he need the senior innkeeper to think he was more a pervert than he already probably did.
"Sure." He handed Vincent a key with a wary eye. Though Tifa wasn't heavy, she was beginning to ache his arms, especially with all the water absorbed into her clothing. Eager to dry off, he turned away from the front desk and the man, only to be called again. "Did... you know Miss Lockheart?"
They locked eyes, both waiting for the other to break. But neither would, however, Tifa sure as hell wasn't getting any lighter. "Yes. I knew her."
As he ascended the stairs, Vincent could easily feel eyes burning his back.
Placing Tifa onto the large bed, he stripped everything except his pants. Turning his attention to the martial artist, who was sprawled over the sheets. A heavy sigh escaped his thin lips as he strode over to her form.
Gulping, Valentine gripped the hem of her lavender t-shirt and blushed as the wet top slipped off. The second thought that processed was that she had changed her wardrobe, but he, on the other hand, still stuck to his cape and black attire.
Pulling the rest of her outfit and undergarments off with more speed, he was embarrassed with everything he was seeing. Vincent began to strip off his own clothes soon after, silently noting that he was in desperate need of a dry cleaner. Once he was down to a pair of boxers, he grabbed a towel and rubbed his hair dry.
Grabbing the heap of clothing in one hand, he was just about to head over to tuck her into her bed while he would sleep in the other when there was a sudden knock on the door. Not only that, but a loud voice followed the rapping of knuckles. "Nibelhiem police, we received an alarming phone call, open the door!"
With the towel draped over his broad shoulders, Vincent furrowed his brow as he swung open the door only to meet an infuriated cop. He glanced down at the clothing in the red-eyed man's arms and the nearly nude state both Vincent and Tifa were in. "Dear god... You sick pervert, you're coming with me."
---
The gunslinger wasn't too sure what had just come to pass. It was all a blur from the inn to the jailhouse. Oh, and never forget that damn look on the innkeeper's face. He gazed upon the ex-AVALANCHE member with such disgust it made Vincent, himself, cringe. It made him almost want to go back there and prove himself innocent. Almost.
However, reminiscing old men and their opinions of him was not for the time. Sitting in the jail cell, in nothing but boxers, was uncomfortable enough. Not to mention the passed out hooker in the corner who was threatening to gain conscious soon only to cause more troubles for dear old Vincent.
---
His scent was like the rain and roses. Or perhaps it was simply roses but the rain falling combined with it. Who knows. Who cares.
He clutched Tifa so strongly and lovingly, she nearly believed she had truly died and was now off in some heaven in the Lifestream.
But suddenly he pulled her away, she wanted to move her arms; cry for him to hold her close once more. Cracking open her eyes, she caught a glimpse of his face.
"Vin...cent...?" His pale skin, dark hair and crimson illuminated irises was unmistakable. However, it all dimmed into a dark blurb.
For a second there she thought it was Vincent.
Ha.
Her mind shadowed dark before growing bright, unlocking mahogany eyes, the fist fighter glanced around her surroundings. Sitting up, her head swam but she easily recognized David and processed that she was sitting in one of his inn rooms.
"Vincent?" She whispered again, still a little hazy from her dream. But it woke her Innkeeper friend from his slumber.
"Good morning, Miss Tifa. How are you feeling?"
Please review. Really. I'll love you if you do. Oh yeah, I know this chapter is a lot like the old one but it'll be more revised and changed and improved in the next, alrighty?
