Disclaimer: I know the drill—no, I don't own FFVII, and disaster would occur if I did.
AN: Sorry for not updating! I've been practicing for my fiasco of a piano competition, and it turns out that all that time was wasted. I lost on my piano competition horribly, so I've been crying at random moments for two days now. Hah, no more fluff. My last three chapters have been sheer saccharine sweetness, so this one is darker in nature.
Current Soundtrack: REDEMPTION, by Gackt (Dirge of Cerberus theme song)
.:Vicissitudes:.
The concept of self-mutilation was no stranger to him. Of course, Vincent was no fool; he did not destroy his flesh with blades to relieve pain through pain—no, he healed too quickly for that. The gift and curse of Chaos was his eternally unbreakable body; the demon's fire was like a drug that never faded. It forever sought to sear his cells with all-too-quick regeneration, halting senescence by the price of those flurries of mutation that transmuted his body into that of a demon's.
The transformations were not painless. He heard it every time, the dark laughter laced by the senseless screech of sanity shattered long ago. The sickening outpouring of his life force followed, as the tissues twisted and tore themselves into new forms.
Then came the pain, the endless overwhelming pain that blocked out everything, even the memory of her. Lucrecia, the demon whispers in a caress against his mind. He loved this pain almost as much as he did her—because it was pure, unadulterated, and excruciating. No, he did not cut himself. It was so much more sweetly agonizing to just drive himself in battle to the release of the demon.
Because even if it were just for a few moments, Vincent Valentine was almost free to forget.
…
"Barret! Watch out!" Yuffie screamed as she vaulted off the cave wall to deftly snatch the Oritsuru out of the air. The delicate contraption of folded steel was dripping trails of black blood from the lacerated skin of the Dark Dragon. Spikes of dark cartilage and bone rose from its sinuous body, covered in dark scales; their edges were dull and grimy, scored by countless negligent brushes against jagged cave rock.
"I'm tryin' here!" The large, burly man was shooting desperately at the beast as it roared in pain, thrashing its tail against the rocks with frightening force. Vincent winced as he quickly dodged a falling boulder to aim once again for the creature's pus incrusted eyes.
The drake's bloated belly was shining with blood in the dim light, Yuffie's weapon having efficiently slashed numerous shallow cuts into the tough flesh. Bullet holes from both Vincent and Barret's guns peppered its hideous head, but somehow it had managed to thwart their attempts to blind it.
Yuffie latched onto a ledge in the ceiling and hung upside down, her hands clasped with the green light of a spell. "Fire 3!" she cried. The fireball engulfed the creature's head in a bloom of torrid red. The dragon screeched and ducked its damaged face down to sweep the cave floor blindly, knocking Vincent into a rock wall with a jarring crack.
His face hardened into a rictus of pain as his nerves screamed in protest. Chaos, sensing his imminent loss of control, scrabbled vigorously in his mind, but he gritted his teeth and forced the demon down. Yuffie swore and cast another spell, trying to distract it as she leapt from ledge to ledge in an attempt to reach Vincent. But the fire had enraged the dragon, and it dodged with a movement that seemed unnaturally fast. She was forced to halt her progress midway as the monster nearly disemboweled her with its claws.
"It's no good!" yelled Barret. "We're all too wounded right now! We need to get out of here!"
She nodded tersely, her heart in her throat as she watched Vincent stagger up, gripping the rock face for support. "We have to get Vin—!"
The momentary lapse in her guard was all that the dragon needed. Its raw, bleeding throat convulsed, a blast of sheer heat scorching the already damaged flesh. As Vincent blinked to clear the pain from his head, his eyes were greeted by a horrific sight. The dragon's maw was shuddering with the release of a jet of flame so hot that its core glowed azure.
Yuffie was turning, sensing the heat, but too slow, too late. Her eyes widened with the sudden panic of cornered prey, her muscles convulsing in instinctive defense. The fear on her face snapped something within him and he released the demon, embracing the rush of pain that came more quickly than it had ever before.
As he watched Chaos wash his mind with red, the last spot of uncorrupted of his vision was the reflection of glowing red in her grey eyes. He remembered wishing—hoping that it had been in time—before he lost to the fires in his mind.
…
You've never let me out before. The voice was deep, rumbling like that of a monstrous dog's. Vincent had heard it too many times since that fateful day when he chose to down the contents of the purple vial.
Have I had a reason to? He laughed bitterly; insanity was already consuming him—soon, he would become one of those lepers of society, conversing forever with entities trapped in his head. Why, he was already halfway there. He had not one, but four fiends in his mind, constantly vying to control him.
But you let me out this time. Chaos paid no mind to his remarks.
Yes.
The demon chewed this over, and to Vincent's surprise, suddenly chuckled. Its amusement was raw and a bit sardonic in the fabric of his conscience.
If you were wondering, host, she doesn't like what you're doing. Vincent mentally froze in his tracks as shock rippled through him. A note of nostalgia, foreign in the beast's blood-edged voice, appeared suddenly. She reminds me of my mate.
A jumble of questions raced through Vincent's mind, stirred by this sudden revelation. Who—?
Wake up, host.
…
There was a soft glow of red and gold against his eyelids, and a fragment of song brushed past his psyche, as it always did when he was revived with Phoenix Down. He floated for a moment as the restorative effects soothed his mangled mind and body. But as was expected, it took just a moment more before the euphoria lifted and his nerves became fully functional again.
He winced as the muscles and bones in his gun arm, just barely healed, jolted in pain. Vincent's eyes fluttered open, and he found the concerned faces of both Yuffie and Barret peering down at him, an opened potion in Yuffie's hand. A smile cracked across Barret's rugged face, but Yuffie only tightened her lips, her features set in hard lines.
"Thought you were a goner there, Vincent," laughed Barret, trying to lighten the suddenly disconsolate atmosphere. "Ain't that right, Yuffie?"
The young shinobi was uncharacteristically silent as she grabbed Vincent's chin and forced the potion down his throat. Her fingers were rough on his skin, as if she could care less what happened to him. He tried to catch her eyes and deduce what had caused her sudden fury, but she did not once look into his eyes as she capped the bottle and tossed it back into her pouch with unnecessary force.
Then with an inimical air, she strode off wordlessly. "Brat!" yelled Barret, "What's with you?" Turning to give Vincent a hand up, he was surprised to find that the man was already walking past him with long strides, an odd look on his face. "Hey, Vincent! What's going on?"
There was no reply as Vincent disappeared in the direction that Yuffie had gone. Shaking his head in disgust, Barret muttered to himself. "Vincent not sayin' anything, I understand, but Yuffie too? What the hell's up with those two?"
…
He saw the muscles tense in her shoulder before she whirled on him, but he intercepted the blow easily. She twisted her arm, and he let of her fist only to catch her arm. "Yuffie. This isn't like you."
She stopped her writhing but only glared over his shoulder, refusing to make eye contact. "Yeah, and that was just like you," she said, her voice tight with suppressed emotion.
He was surprised by the acrimony in her normally effervescent voice. An anger that seemed almost juvenile sprung up in his mind, urging him to snap back at her comment; what the hell did she mean?
"You're always doing this, letting yourself take the damage for others! What is this? Some sort of sick atonement?" Her entire body was rigid and taut, her voice caustic and biting. "You never care for yourself now. Don't you think you should get over that Lucrecia woman already?"
He threw her arm away from him, and the momentum swung her back to stumble a step. "You have no right to speak of her," he spat, fury pervading every one of his words. A gasp escaped her, and then her hand flashed in a quick arc.
The slap cracked in the cavern like the sound of a merciless whip, and his head snapped back as his cheek stung. Shock froze his mind as he raised a hand to his face, then looked up to see her eyes glaring back into his, their storm-gray depths awash with tears. When she spoke, her voice was choked with stifled anguish. "You're right. I don't have any right to speak of her. But you have no right to do this either."
The tacit question glowed in his eyes. She laughed bitterly, the sound like a dry cough of air in dying lungs. She turned and began staggering away, her shoulders held by sheer force of will, and the words traveled back to him in a whisper.
"Because some people care about you like you care about her."
…
AN: Don't you think Vinnie should just get over Lucrecia already? He's too hung up on her. Next chapter, hopefully, will be more cheerful because I'll be posting it on my birthday, February 26. I'll 16 years old! Sorry for the extreme angst, but I was in no mood for fluff.
