(Notes: Once again, all the credit for the Cloud dialogue, and most of his scenes, goes out to "IAmLazarus"! And thanks goes out to you, the readers and reviewers. There will be one chapter left after this, though I do have something else in mind, should time permit. I should also mention that this is fairly mild in terms of romance. It's more of a private-affection-brought-to-light, or, "Blink and miss" as I think they're called. If I do anything else… well… rest assured there will be more in the way of snogging! Have fun!)
By noon, Yuffie was beginning to lose hope.
Despite her best efforts, the fever did not break, and they were running out of water. She didn't want to leave him. Who knew what could happen while she was out, since the materia seemed to be doing so little good? For what felt like the hundredth time that morning, she pulled the blankets tighter around Vincent. His hands clenched beneath them, tensing with the rest of his body. Solemnly, Yuffie held his shoulders until the dream passed. She'd gotten used to them by now.
Cloud was late. He'd said "morning". It was early afternoon now. If he didn't arrive soon…
"Where is he?"
I--------I
Cloud circled around the busted bike in frustration. It just wouldn't start. It figured, being an hour away from the ferry across the sea, from Junon to Costa Del Sol, that something would go wrong. Some how nothing was ever that simple. Their luck really.
As a final effort Cloud turned toward the bike and gave it final, swift kick. In response the bike made a click and for a second there was a glimmer of hope, which was quickly cut down as the sword cases popped out.
Fenrir promptly died, and he gave a low groan.
There was nothing left to do, he was going to have to push it to the ferry. Resigned, he shoved them closed and got to pushing. At least the rain seemed to have let up. Only now the sun was emerging, beating down on the struggling warrior.
Just my luck…
I-------I
She'd gotten some of the water into him. When she touched his face, it felt a touch less hot, though it remained paler than normal. It wasn't much, but it was something.
Sliding off the edge of the bed, Yuffie pulled her knees to her chest, fighting the urge to sleep. He needed her here—he'd admitted as much. She couldn't drift off until the blonde swordsman showed up. What she needed, was something to keep her awake, alert.
The pale glow of materia caught her eye. She needed no further prompting. In no time, she'd caught up three of the orbs, and had returned to his bedside, carefully juggling them. It took concentration, which was perfect, but not enough to keep her from hearing him, should the need arise.
Her mind wandered to his errand, the reason they'd run across one another in the first place. There was only one reason, that she knew of, why he would return to Nibelhiem. Even after two years, the thought of the locked, dusty basement made her shiver. Why on earth anyone, let alone someone she'd fought with, would want to lock themselves back up in such a place was beyond her. She frowned. Maybe there was something she was overlooking…
I'll just have to follow, she decided, appeasing the curiosity building within. He'll never notice! And… she thought more somberly. I can make sure he's really okay again…
That was another issue. Sure, she could stay with him now, sitting up all day and night, enduring the nightmares and the sickness, until he recovered. But what about the next time? If Vincent could sicken once, she reasoned, he could do it again, somewhere she, nor anyone else, could follow. She couldn't follow him all the time.
Or could I? No, he would be bound to notice. Even if she passed it off as his good luck, such a ruse could only last so long. Yuffie frowned, nearly dropping a materia in her thoughts.
Why do I care so much—wait, stupid question. She knew why she cared. Chances were, however, he did not. Or, if he did, he didn't care. Either way, it didn't do to give the Reason too much thought right now. Nothing could come of it anyway.
"What am I gonna do with you?" she asked him.
At first, she thought he was going to speak. Then, to her disappointment, the gasp he uttered turned into yet another spasm of coughing, this one shaking his lanky frame so badly his limbs jerked.
Setting down the materia, she moved to his side, waiting for the coughing to ease. When it didn't, she heaved a sigh, and slid an arm around his shoulders, maneuvering him up into a sitting position. Her free hand pounded his back. The fit lasted too long for her liking. When it finally passed, it left both of them with just enough energy to collapse against each other, the girl sprawled across his chest.
I can't fall asleep…!
Even as she willed them to stay open, her eyelids dragged closed, lulled by the sound of his breathing.
I---------I
"So then my dad was like 'We should start charging for the ferry.' And then that big meteor thing came out of the sky, so he put all the ferry business money into booze."
His head buried deep in Fenrir's engine, Cloud didn't offer the girl a response. He'd made it to the boat with barely enough time to haul the bike aboard, only to discover the trip would cost him. A search of his pockets turned up only spare change, his phone, and an old, possibly expired candy. The captain growled, but, possibly recognizing his passenger, grudgingly allowed him passage. In return, however, it seemed Cloud was to be plagued with his far-too perky daughter.
She was hovering around him as he worked. No matter how little he acknowledged her, she refused to leave him alone. Perhaps the size of the vessel kept her so close. It was one of the smaller ones running the route, with only a handful of cargo, and a sparse collection of travelers such as himself. None of them showed their faces on deck, where he and the motorcycle had been stowed. Cloud aside, there probably wasn't much else to interest the girl—not that it gave her an excuse to pester him.
He pulled himself up, stretching. With any luck, he could get the thing running again before they reached land. He was going to be late… nothing he could do about that. At the rate the boat moved, they would be lucky to arrive before nightfall, leaving him with a lot of ground to cover after dark. Cloud bent again to the bike, stifling a sigh as the girl's voice took off again.
"That's why mom left after everything didn't end. So then dad was like 'We really need to charge for the ferry'."
As he worked, Cloud vaguely wondered if all his tinkering would do any good. He hoped so. Cid was never around to fix things when you needed him.
"So that's a really cool bike. I've never really seen one like it before, except that one guy who saved the planet had one, you look a lot like him ya know, but yeah does it go super fast? I bet it does. How did it break? Did you run into something really dangerous or something?"
Now he answered, with a simple "No."
"Because there's a lot of weird creatures out there and one time I tried to catch one and that's what happened to the first mate..."
With an accidental crack of knuckles, he pulled himself out of the engine again. That should have done it—either that, or the bike was now broken beyond all repair. At the very least, he should have gotten the sword release set. He reached across the front, pressing a small switch under the throttle. He gave an approving nod as the bike's multiple sheaths sprang out from their hiding places.
His satisfaction was short-lived. With a shriek, the captain's daughter leaped backwards from the bike, as the hilt of one of his swords nearly came in contact with her torso. She sprawled out on the deck, staring wide-eyed up at him. He turned back to the ignition. Maybe the shock would keep her quiet for the rest of the trip. Flipping the switch, he was rewarded with a sickly cough from the engine. It was a step up from smoking, at least.
"Wow!" she breathed. The word sounded dangerously close to a curse. "You scared me!" She scrambled to her feet. "Just like that one time when…"
Cloud closed his eyes, trying to drown her out with the clank of parts, as he bent once again to coax Fenrir back into working order.
I--------I
It was too early to answer the phone. Her pillow felt odd, ridged almost, beneath her cheek, but it was so comfortable, she didn't wish to move. She sighed, snuggling deeper into the pillow, trying to shift to sit in a way that did not leave her legs asleep.
Five more minutes…
Her pillow coughed.
Dark eyes flew open. It took her a few moments to orient herself, and still more to realize her pillow was, in fact, someone's chest. Further inspection, taking in pallid skin and black hair, revealed just whose chest it was. Yuffie jerked upright, throwing herself backwards, a thousand apologies falling from her lips.
Vincent's response was simply to shift slightly, sighing in his sleep.
She let out the breath she'd been holding. If he'd known she'd fallen asleep on the job, let alone on top of him, there'd be no keeping him. He would leave before she could tackle him to the floor. Leaning close, she looked for any sign of improvement, and found nothing.
Her phone rang again, loud and shrill in the stillness of the room. Flopping back to the floor, she pulled it out, examining the caller ID. An eyebrow rose. Tifa? What's she want? She glanced over at the sleeping patient, then flipped open the phone. Vincent could wait a few minutes… she hoped.
"Tifa?"
"Is everything all right?" The voice on the other end was worried. More so than usual.
"Uh…" Yuffie bit her lip. By most standards, no, things were not all right. But whatever had Tifa so uneasy would only be compounded by the truth. She opted for a slightly more tactful version. "Well, it will be. Once Cloud gets his butt over here."
"He's not there yet?"
With a yelp, Yuffie jerked the phone away from her ear. She'd forgotten how loud the other woman could shout. Cautiously bringing it back, she could hear the angry mutterings, most involving bodily harm and a certain, blonde swordsman. "Oops?" she added, unhelpfully. "Can't you just call him and ask him where he is?"
"I tried that," snarled Tifa. "His phone is out of range." She made it sound as if it were all Cloud's fault. A deep breath sounded. She was trying to calm down. "He hasn't called you, has he?"
"Nope." With a sigh of her own, Yuffie sat back on the edge of the bed. "I'd tell you if he had."
There was a pause. In the background, she heard a soft, childish question. Tifa murmured a response, then her voice returned. "How is he?" she asked.
"Tell Marlene he's fine."
Again, Tifa's voice faded into the background. There came a giggle, and the soft sound of small feet running. When she returned, she sounded far more concerned, speaking in hushed tones. "How bad…?"
Another sigh. "About the same as when I called you, only…" Yuffie trailed off, her eyes resting on her patient. "If Cloud doesn't get here soon…" She decided not to finish that thought. Things were going downhill too fast. It would have been fine, had Cloud actually kept his word and shown up. Her efforts were, for once, not enough to turn the tide.
"It'll be okay."
Unconsciously, she clenched a fist. Tifa was right. She knew Tifa was right. Even so, her hand slowly sought Vincent's, if only to remind herself that, yes, he was still there, albeit unconscious, beside her. The leather was cool to the touch—he'd kept the gloves, despite the change of clothes—and was not the most comforting thing. It had been going well… he was letting her in… and now…?
"Yuffie? Are you there?"
"Yeah, sorry!"
"Hang in there, okay?" said Tifa, her voice soft. "You're going to make it. Both of you." She paused, and Yuffie could almost hear her holding a hand to her forehead, musing. "I'm going to have to hang up… Just in case Cloud calls. If you need me, I'll be here, all right?"
After mumbled agreement, Yuffie hung up. The now-familiar weariness returned. Shaking it off, she stood, moving to rotate the cloths, exchanging the now-dry one on his forehead for the cool one soaking in the bowl. Holding the dripping fabric, she brushed her fingers lightly across his face, checking for any change. She didn't expect one. However, instead of heat, her fingers found his skin simply warm, almost cool to the touch.
The fever had broken.
Dropping the cloth, Yuffie promptly threw her arms around his shoulders. Now, her body shook, though the tremors were born of relief instead of illness. She squeezed him tight, as best she could, from her crouched position. Still asleep, he only tensed slightly at the touch. This time, she didn't care; she was too thankful to care. They were going to make it! Everything was going right again! Releasing him, she slid to the floor, picking up the materia for another round of juggling while she waited. Cloud would have a surprise when he showed up. He wasn't the only one who could save the day. Smugly, she leaned up against the wall, nearest Vincent's head, and waited for him to wake up.
As evening fell, so too did her cheerful mood.
Despite the lack of fever, despite all her efforts—shaking him, yelling at him, even splashing water in his face—Vincent would not stir. He coughed a few times, the effort still sending his body jerking across the bed, but would never rouse to wakefulness. Even when she pounded his chest, shouting in his ear, the best response she could hope for was a flinch.
She still held him down when he coughed. By this point, he'd ceased having nightmares. In the silence, part of her wished for them back. At least then, there was something to break the awful stillness. It was like watching over a corpse. Quickly, she pushed the thought away. He'd been in enough coffins for one lifetime.
When his breathing grew labored, Yuffie again brought out her things, sorting through until a fire materia was found. Blurry memories of campfires started with glowing orbs in hand, she carefully cast it on the bowl of water. Weary satisfaction overcame her fear for a moment, as steam slowly rose from the bowl.
Setting it down, and using both his cloak and shirt with his pillow, she shoved him into a position resembling one of sitting upright. She balanced the bowl in the vicinity of his chest. Her efforts were rewarded as, with the aid of the steam, Vincent's breathing began to ease.
Her nap wearing off, she sank back to the floor, letting her head come to rest again on the edge of the bed. The slow rise and fall of his chest was reassuring, even though he seemed determined to remain unconscious. Her fingers returned to twine with his. With each breath, she squeezed them, willing his next inhalation to turn into a yawn, followed shortly by the lazy blink of crimson eyes. Each time the strategy failed, she felt her heart sink.
I got you this far, Vince, she thought at him. I saved your butt for this long… don't you dare keel over now… just wake up… Open your eyes and look at me!
Suddenly, his hand tightened around hers, just once, just briefly. It was more of a twitch than it was a squeeze, but it sent her shooting to her feet all the same. Was it a sign? Was he waking?
Yuffie leaned over, taking his shoulders again, calling his name. Beneath pale lids, she could see his eyes moving about, shifting rapidly from one side to another, rolling up and down. Her heart raced.
"Vincent…?" she ventured. "Can you hear me…?"
With a low sound, almost a moan, he lay still again, sending her heart crashing to the ground. She swore vividly, sinking to her knees, thumping his shoulder feebly, and trying not to scream.
"What have you two been doing in here?"
The voice was so unexpected, Yuffie had to stifle a scream. She whipped her head around, blinking in the sudden light of the open door. A figure stood there, arms folded, regarding them with a vaguely amused expression. It wasn't until she caught sight his hair, gilded by fading afternoon light, that she knew who was intruding on their little world.
"Cloud you ass! Where were you!"
One blonde eyebrow quirked as the ninja leapt toward him. Something akin to murder glinted in her eye and he stifled a sigh, bracing himself. However, the impact was much less than he expected. Her arms abruptly wrapped around his waist, squeezing tightly. For a moment, his balance wavered. Holding his arms out to steady himself, he leaned slightly away from the embrace, grimacing.
"Nice to see you too," he said dryly. Yuffie's brand of affection was not something he was quite prepared for. He kept his arms in the air, both trying to keep himself balanced, and maintain a distance that was at least somewhat comfortable.
"You two are awful about this stuff," she muttered into his shirt, voice choked. It sounded as if she were crying.
He glanced down. Indeed, her shoulders shook slightly, proving it. Awkwardly, he reached down with one hand, bracing the other on the doorframe, and patted her shoulder. She didn't answer, but loosened her grip on his waist. "How is he?" he asked, wanting to divert her attention.
Yuffie released him, fidgeting with her hands, all the while glancing between Cloud and the too-still form on the bed. "I got the fever down," she said. "But… that was this morning… he hasn't woken up since. He's not even having nightmares anymore…" Now she drifted over to the bed, still fidgeting, unsure of what to do next. "How're we going to use the water?" she asked, quiet now, in contrast to her usual moods. One of her hands sought Vincent's as she waited for a response.
"Hm." Cloud paused, thinking. The stigma had been a disease easily dispatched by simple contact with the church's water. This was different. Even so, as he looked down at the other man, an idea formed. It wasn't a particularly good one, but it would have to do.
He reached into a pocket, pulling the softly gleaming bottle from the depths, and moved towards his unconscious companion. Yuffie stepped aside, releasing Vincent's hand, but never taking her eyes off the two. Again, Cloud stopped. After some deliberation, he moved the bowl to the floor, frowning momentarily at the new attire Vincent currently sported, then awkwardly attempted to lift the dark head. He needed to find a position so as to pour the water down his throat without choking him.
The bottle suddenly left his hand. He turned, and met dark, irritated eyes. "You're doing it wrong," Yuffie said flatly. She elbowed him out of the way, deftly sliding a hand under Vincent's shoulders.
Cloud backed up, surrendering the job to her without resistance. Now, she sat behind him, supporting his upper body with hers. His head was tilted back, resting on her shoulder, while she slowly dripped the water down his throat. "It's the only way that works," she grumbled, not looking at Cloud.
He didn't answer, just kept his gaze on the room around him. If she wanted to baby Vincent, that was her business, not his. Besides, it felt awkward to stare. He looked instead for his missing materia. It was quickly located, nestled in a small pile beside the girl's things. Two, however, were sitting beside the bed. Cloud blinked.
"What happened to his shirt?" he asked, deadpan.
Yuffie's face flushed. "He changed," she said, sounding both indignant and embarrassed in the same breath. "He was all wet. So he changed. That's all." She glared at him, daring him to try and make something out of her statement.
Naturally, he elected to stay silent on the subject, instead leaning against the wall. Yuffie, having finished her job, gently eased herself out from behind Vincent, sitting back on the floor. She set the water down, and, drawing her knees to her chest, settled in to wait.
Silence fell again, this time awkward, as opposed to oppressive atmosphere of before. Yuffie rose often, checking Vincent, while Cloud merely reclined against the wall, his usual watchful self. The two were direct opposites of one another. While he stood still, she fidgeted constantly, reaching for materia to occupy her attention, only to pull her hand away when she belatedly realized she was no longer alone. Occasionally, she stood, pacing across the room before returning to her bedside vigil.
"What do we do if this doesn't work?" she murmured, mostly to herself.
Cloud opened his mouth to respond. Before he could form the words, a low groan silenced them both. Yuffie was on her feet in an instant.
"Vincent?" she practically shouted, leaning over him. "Are you…"
She didn't get to finish her sentence.
I---------I
For as long as he can remember, he has been pounding his fists into the wall, its heat scorching them. His body hurts with each movement, but he will not cease. If he does so, he gives in to the enfolding dark. He occasionally glimpses things beyond the wall. Most often he sees faces, one in particular, concerned, leaning over him with pleas.
He pushes with all his waning strength. That face should not be so serious. Somehow, he knows he is the cause. If he can break this barrier, that face will smile once again. The wall stays put, not giving an inch.
Exhausted, he feels himself begin to sink. He reaches out, grasping for the wall, willing his hand to grasp hold of something. It is the wrong hand. Instead of claws, his gloved fingers brush against the wall, failing to find purchase. He continues to fall.
He doesn't know how long he is falling for. It is no longer hot, which is comforting, but the vertigo threatens the rise of nausea in his throat. There is nothing to see, nothing to feel, but the awful, dizzying sensation of the fall itself. He resigns himself to it. As time wears on, he finds himself adjusting. Falling itself is, after all, preferable to the inevitable impact at the end.
It is then the pain begins.
Fire shoots through his veins, burning tendrils digging in each time he breathes, and then, even if he holds his breath. His muscles jerk, cries tearing their way from his throat. The pain holds his chest in a vice, threatening to crush him. Even the beat of his heart, racing now, shoots the fire further through his body.
There is no resignation this time, only consuming agony.
I-------I
Both of them needed a minute to realize what was happening. Even Cloud spared a second to glance up, gathering his wits.
Still unconscious, Vincent's body had begun convulsing, limbs jerking in unnatural angles. He did not cry out, simply gasped at the air, mouth opening in silent screams. His clawed hand raked the bedcovers, snagging in the furrows. This was no simple nightmare.
Cloud was faster than she was, however, at Vincent's side before she could shout at him to move. He took the left side, keeping a careful eye on the claw attached to the arm he now grabbed, holding it and its shoulder steady in place. It was the main concern. If he clawed either himself or one of them in his thrashings, the result would not be pretty.
At least he's not wearing those shoes.
Despite the differences in their statures, Cloud felt his grip on the other man slipping. Vincent kept shuddering away. He looked up.
Yuffie stood, frozen, her eyes locked on the scene before her. One of her hands covered her mouth, the other wrapped tightly over her chest. Tears glazed her eyes, painting them horrorstruck, liquid in their fear. She could only watch as her friend continued with his seizure, her heart trembling in her throat.
"Yuffie."
Dark eyes snapped up, meeting hard blue.
"Hold him."
Cloud's voice snapped her free of the paralysis. Mechanically, she moved to Vincent's other side, gripping his shoulder in counterpoint to the convulsions. She felt the tears coming, dripping down her face.
This isn't right… this can't be happening…Not to him…
She didn't want to look at him, didn't want to see his face, contorted by pain. Nothing in the world should be able to leave him so vulnerable, so reduced to the twitching wretch she held down to the bed. The man she knew was immortal, was calm and self-assured, even while facing down a towering summon. The man she knew had nightmares, sure, but they didn't send him into writhing conniptions. This couldn't be the man she knew.
A particularly violent convulsion nearly pulled her arm from its socket. With an effort, Yuffie forced him back down, this time accidentally letting her eyes come to rest on his pale, anguished face.
She didn't want to admit it. Now she had no choice, looking straight at him. This was the man she knew, this suffering, mortal man lying in her grasp. She had to resist the urge to embrace him tightly, apologizing for something she didn't understand. Instead, she just held him down, shedding fresh tears for each new spasm.
Don't you dare go out like this, Vincent! I'll never forgive you!
As suddenly as it had begun, the seizure stopped.
Yuffie stifled a gasp, while Cloud merely grunted, stepping back. There was a tense silence. Both pairs of eyes remained trained on the body in the bed. Yuffie did not breathe, until red eyes fluttered open. Blearily, they sought his attendants, then squeezed shut, as if in disbelief.
"How long… was I out?" Vincent croaked.
The girl nearly melted. Never before had she been happier to hear that deep, growling voice. Words fled her. It was all she could do to keep from crying harder, tackling him. She just looked down at him, something similar to a grin forming on her face. "How're you feeling?" she managed, her voice nearly as hoarse as his.
He blinked. "I can't breathe," he announced. Then, quite promptly, sneezed.
It was too much. Cloud gave a smirk, but Yuffie fell to her knees, laughing harder than she had in days.
"I missed you, Vinnie," she gasped. "A whole lot."
(One more chapter left!)