Update! Update! Read all about it!
From now on, the replies to the reviews will be relatively short, because I'm computer-banned and I can only go on for 10 minutes. But I still care about you guys! No, really! So don't leave me, and please read on, because I know you want to. Yessssss, you do.
ODSTGirl048 - Hey, how do we know Arien isn't a bitch? lol. I kinda like how this turned out myself, because usually with mary-sues it's all like "she knew this was the right thing to do, this self-sacrifice and let's all go kill ourselves because she's perfect" but in this story, Arien's not sure if she did the right thing and needs reassurance.
Raspberry Polar Bear - Originally I was going to make Vincent fall madly in love with Arien, and then it'd be a ferocious battle between Rufus, Vincent and Reno! MUWAHAHAHA! But then I realized that Arie is going to turn into the bane of fanfics, so I turned Vincent into a brotherly instead. Besides, Vince is about 57. (Senile problems, Vince?)
Insanity - Reno... is a little boy. He reminds me of a toddler sometimes. And if he was my boyfriend, I would commit suicide out of frustration. But Arien kept up. And Reno went postal. And... yeah. It was for his own good, but like all small children, he can't see it. And he still doesn't know what her problem was.
NarcissisticRiceball - I decided to make Arien's life as miserable as possible, because no one is really interested in happy people who has the perfect house and perfect family and e.t.c., unless they sudddenly kill themselves. And Vincent does make another entrance. And I love Vince, did I mention that? I think I'll name my kid Vincent if it's a boy...
Princess-Starr - As far as I know you're there, I'll love you! Got a new job, eh? I envy you. I'm such a lazy bum my production rate is in the negative. ... Yeah. More FFVII original characters coming up, including Tifa, Cloud, Rufus, e.t.c. And some of my own creation as well. Keep a watch out, because I don't know how this story will end.
Echo - okay, okay! FINE FINE! (grins) I'm so elated that you want to read the next chapter. So here ya go. Hope you enjoy. I did, writing it. I liked this chalter too, but it's kind of long, actually. But we'll see a lot of old faces again. Reno'll be making an entrance soon as well, along with "where are Elena and Tseng going to get together" Question.
Here's thechapter!
Chapter 19:Are Feelings Okay For Turks?
Reno, I'm sorry! I know there aren't enough words to apologize, but I did this for all of us! Please listen!
Forget it. You used me like trash, you sonuvabitch. Why the fuck did you have to do that? Huh? Huh? Bet you had fun.
Reno, please… stop.
No, you fucking whore! You fucking played with me, then you walked out! No explanation, no nothing. If you think this is some funny joke, then you're sick. You're fucking sick, man!
Reno!
"…Arien!"
Arien woke up, and felt something wet on her face. She touched it. It was clear. Tears. She was crying in her sleep. She didn't know she could do that.
"Bad dream." It wasn't a question, just a statement for the obvious. She wiped her tears with the back of her hand.
"Did I wake you up?" She asked. The fire was crackling merrily, but still she felt cold. She hugged herself absently, then realized that she wasn't physically cold, she was mentally cold. Big difference there.
"Not particularly. I don't sleep much." Vincent's eyes looked red in the flame, but she couldn't discern whether it was from the lack of sleep or not. Vincent's eyes were already crimson before she even met him.
"I'm sorry." She had no idea why she said that. That was Vincent's choice, and there wasn't anything particularly sorrowful about not being able to sleep.
"There's no reason to be, Arien." He paused, then eyed her with curiosity. She was absently reminded of a brother she had wanted when she was little. Well, someone who was close was sitting in front of her. "Do you want to talk?"
"Um… sure." She wiped her eyes with her hand. But more tears flowed.
"Relax. Take a deep breath."
She breathed.
"Right. Now start from the beginning. Anything that comes to your mind."
"I… I contracted this virus when we were in Costa. It's my fault, really." She took a deep breath, acutely aware that she had already went over this. But she decided to continue. "That day I slept in, and… and, well, Reno and Elena were gone, so I went outside, and saw them talking together. They seemed so happy with each other's company, and well, I got jealous." She looked at Vincent, as if asking for his judgment. However, he just nodded, bidding her to continue.
"Well, they were coming this way, so I stepped into a shady alley, where this hook went through my wrist. That hook emits a virus, and I'm a carrier. To make a very long story short, I lost my baby…" she felt tears coming again. "Well, I told you the story."
"You can tell me again if you wish," Vincent said gently.
"I carry both Geostigma and the virus, and the Geostigma reacted with the virus, making it viral and very contagious. I had to leave. I couldn't kill Reno. He loves life so much; to render him of his life would be worse than death. But there was no way I could convince him, so I lied. I told him I used him like trash for my pleasure…" tears were overflowing. She didn't know she could cry so much. "I don't know if I made the right choice. I hurt him. Badly. I did it for him, but I don't know if it will be for him…"
Vincent sat straight again. "Do you remember what you said to me before you left last time?"
"Um…" Honestly, she didn't. And she didn't see what this had to do with anything either. All she remembered were hazy memories of going crazy on how to transport two comatose bodies. No offense to Mr. Valentine, but she really wasn't in the state of mind to remember anything apart from her fellows' welfare. "No."
"You told me that it was alright to cry once in a while. What did you mean by that?"
She had a vague memory of saying something about it. "I'm not sure," she began, "but I used to be like you, I think. Oh, I don't mean I've been through your suffering," she added as she saw Vincent's expression twitch a little. "We each have our own problems and our own sufferings; but when my first boyfriend, Darren Blake, died, I was lost. He wasn't exactly someone I loved from the bottom of my heart, but I loved him well, and he was my mentor, someone who would protect me, teach me how to live. And even in the Intelligence, he was so open. We usually get twisted, and we stop feeling, because that's how we survive through our jobs. But Darren was good enough to always feel something after each mission, some certain guilt."
Vincent had a clue where this was going, but he urged her to continue.
"When Darren was killed in an accident, I shut myself off. I didn't feel. I was like a robot, executing the commands I received with precision and efficiency, yes, but I probably would have felt nothing killing any of my friends. I didn't want to feel. I thought that if I didn't feel, I wouldn't have to go through a lot. But I was wrong, because when you feel a pain, it never really goes away. Ever."
How he knew that well.
"But when I was in the Intelligence, I began to think that feeling was wrong. I shouldn't cry. I shouldn't laugh. If I felt, I wouldn't be able to carry out my assignments. And failure could be fatal. So I locked away my feelings, threw away the key so to speak. I was like that when I first joined the Turks."
"And then?" How on Earth would being in Turks rank make someone relearn how to feel? That seemed like an antithesis.
"I met Reno," she replied simply. "Oh, he doesn't feel at all when he's carrying out missions. He can easily kill without twitching. But he also forgot – or maybe he never knew – how to care for someone, how to love. That's probably why he broke so many girls' hearts." She smiled a small smile, tinged with nostalgia. "He lost something precious, as I did. First, it was total warfare. We tried to annoy each other. But then, I started caring for him, and I hated myself for it." She laughed. "I didn't want to feel, that was against my beliefs. But I cared for Reno all the same. And I think he just wanted me at first because I didn't just throw myself at him. But as he chased me around, he started to care for me too. I relearned how to love someone. So, Vincent," she said, her expression now serious again, "I know you had sufferings, I won't delve into that. I can't. It's beyond my suffering to measure yours. But… trying to be stoic is fine, but it'll feel much better to let it go once in a while. You probably know this already, and if this seems like some boring repetition of a girlish, inane thought, you can stop me when you get bored, but it's not a crime to cry. People have guilt. But you can't keep looking back to it. You have to go on."
Vincent did not speak. He just watched her as she finished. She realized the gunslinger was looking at her, and looked startled.
"Oh my, I just made a fool of myself, didn't I?" She said hastily. "I'm sorry. You probably think that I shouldn't complain, because my life isn't that tough."
"No, I don't think that," Vincent said softly. "I think… you did very well, for a situation you were given."
"Really?" Her reaction was like of a small child, wanting mother's approval. Vincent felt sorry for her. In Midgar, you had to do anything to live. And Arien lived the only way she could. Sure, she killed many, but she did not deserve so many griefs she had gone through.
"And Arien, what you did… I don't know if it was a right choice. Maybe it was. Maybe not. But it is done. And you did it for him. You love him, and that's what counts. You have to move on."
Arien looked into his crimson eyes.
"Go back to sleep, Arien. You need to rest."
Arien nodded, and had fallen asleep again; by the fire, she looked like Lucrecia more than ever. Just like Lucrecia, this poor girl had gone through sufferings she did not have to, but she did anyways, all because of that crazed scientist of Shinra Company. And just like Lucrecia, she was guilt-ridden, trying to live under the weight of the guilt.
He gently touched Arien's forehead again. She moved like a small bird in the cold wind, curling up into a tighter ball.
"Lucrecia…" he whispered, looking up at the starlit sky. The wind blew, taking away his soft whisper in the breeze.
Three days later, Arien left. While she was packing, Vincent remained seated, staring into the fire.
"You can stay here, if you wish," he said quietly.
"I know," Arien replied, trying to squish a blanket into the backpack. "But you gave me courage, and I think I can go on now. I left so I won't be giving sickness to people, and I certainly don't want to give it to you." She paused, her blue-green eyes staring into his crimson orbs. "I won't be alright, but I'll go on." She took a deep breath and continued, "Besides, I need to get away from here. I need to be away from comfort. I bring danger to people around me, I think." She pulled the backpack onto her shoulder, then bent down and kissed his cheek.
"Thank you, Vincent," she said. "Thank you, for everything."
"Target hit. My stand is in her now."
"Well done."
"Shall I come back?"
"No, track her down. Guide her to Passione hideout if need be."
"Roger that."
Arien's next destination was not a location at all. More like people.
She knew exactly where Passione was. Her research had paid off at the previous visit. Granted that they didn't suddenly decide to change the place of residence, they were still there. It was the logical place to go. They probably needed more people with skill, and boy, did Turks know skill when it came to doing the dirty jobs. That's why Shinra spent billions of gils training them in the first place.
Well, she wasn't a Turk now, and she had to be careful not to run into any of the Turks. When a Turk abandoned the ranks, that Turk was doomed. The fellows would be looking for the ex-Turk, their command one and only: exterminate those who used to be in Turks. They were allowed to Shinra archives, the secrets, the works, and Rufus really didn't care to afford those kinds of leaks when the company was up and running. Shinra was gone now, but Rufus still had secrets up his white sleeves, and well, the order was still in place. She didn't really plan to sell out Rufus, however. Unless there was a very good reason, which she could not think of.
The Passione headquarters were underground, a couple of kilometers off from the monument. You had to enter an abandoned old grungy building, enter the basement, peel the rug off the floor in the eastern corner, and open the trapdoor. There were guards standing around where you dropped, and they would interrogate you to discern whether you were supposed to be there or in heaven. If the decision was the latter, they shot you to death. It was an easy and simple system.
Arien peeled the rug, opened the trapdoor, then dropped in. Immediately she was manhandled by the two guards, who seemed to have decided that she was possibly an enemy. Which was plausible. She massacred more than seven guards on the last visit, and her gunblades were within easy reach.
"State your purpose!" One of the guards barked. Arien looked at them.
"I need to see your boss. Giorno Jiovanna. Now," she stated flatly.
"Big chance. Boss is sleeping."
"I said now, and when I say now, I mean it." Arien was getting impatient. These were goons that really needed to be dead. Like Corneo's lackeys, from long ago. Thankfully, before Arien pulled out her gunblade and shot the two buffoons to death, Fugo appeared from the darkness.
"What the…!" He stopped, then looked at her like she was an apparition that appeared out of a wall. "What are you doing here?"
"I need to see your superior, and these guards are really holding me up." She pulled out her gunblade, but did not do anything. "If they keep holding me up, I'm going to lose my temper, and I'm not promising anything then."
"Let her in," the blond said. "I know her."
"But…"
"That's an order from Pannacotta Fugo, and I'm one of the primes. Let her in."
The guards moved aside reluctantly. Arien passed without further ado.
"What brings you here?" Fugo asked. Arien looked at him, her blue-green eyes staring into his sky-blues.
"I left. And since I killed a good seven guards last time, I thought I needed to repay your group. I can only offer myself."
"We don't need prostitutes or concubines," Fugo replied shortly. Sharp anger rose in her, and Arien slapped him across the face.
"I am not a concubine, and I never will be," she retorted. "But I was in the Intelligence. I know how to fight, I know how to extract information. I can be a valuable asset."
"We'll see about that."
She did not reply to that. He was right not to trust her. After disarming her and promising her that her things will remain safe and untouched, he led her through the halls and doorways, until they reached one door which was closed. Fugo knocked. "Giorno, guest."
"Fugo?"
"Yeah, it's me. You have a guest. A woman."
The door opened, and the familiar face peeked out, a frown on the delicate Costa features. Arien was nearly reminded of a face she was trying very hard to forget, and bit her lip. Blond hair, shoulder-length, was on his pale face. His hair was ruffled; he still was barely a young man. "Arien DeVir?"
"That's me."
"Come in. I'm sorry about the last visit." He was polite. "Fugo, would you care to come in too?"
"Sure."
Giorno was in a dressing gown; he was barefoot, and she took notice that he had very slender feet. "Please sit," he said, gesturing to a chair. "Fugo, you have to sit on my bed. I only have one chair." Fugo sat down on the bed without any protest. Giorno sat a few feet away from him. "So. What brings you here?"
"I come here to offer you my services. And no, I don't mean my body," she added as she saw the young man's face contort in a denial. "I have some skills you might be able to put to use. I was in the Intelligence. To tell you the truth, I don't know how to control this ability-"
"Stand," Fugo interjected.
"It's called stand? Okay. I don't know how to control it, and it looks like it's very destructive. I assumed you know how to control them, and I'd rather not wreck the city with this… thing. I can offer you my skills, but I need to learn how to control my abilities. That's why I'm here."
"What about your previous commitment?"
"Ah, that. I'll be honest, I am not entirely sure I can offer my complete loyalty, as it was offered to another party. But I will be sure that I will not harm this group. I will not give out any information dealing with this group to anyone, but I will not promise that I will divulge any information dealing with the previous party. That is my offer." Her tone sounded like "take it or leave it", but she couldn't do anything about it. She wasn't going to lie.
Giorno and Fugo looked at each other. "Miss. DeVir-"
"Arien."
"Arien, do you mind if you step out? We need some time to discuss this over."
"Of course not." She stood up and exited the room, not really giving a hoot whether they had gay sex or talked. They could pass off as gay, she mused, remembering how many "gay" theories floated around Midgar. Sephiroth and Cloud was a very common rumor, as well as Tseng and Rufus, and Rude and Re…
She commanded herself to stop thinking, and looked around. Her eyes latched onto something else, very nearly making her forget the complications. Her new interest was in the hall outside, where a man was shooting with a pistol. It was very odd, because the bullets kept curving in its courses, going this way and that. She never saw that happen before.
"Excuse me," she said, tapping his shoulder, "how do you do that?"
"Do what?" The man wore a very odd-shaped helmet, a sweater that showed midriffs that matched the criss-cross design of the helmet, and army trousers.
"Your bullets curve this way and that."
"That? You can't do it. It's my special ability." He saw her touching another pistol that was on the nearby table. "You shoot?"
"Not very well."
"Do you want to try?" He loaded the bullets into another pistol and handed it to her. The pistol was unfamiliar in her hands, a little too heavy for her arm, and a little too large for her hand. She probably needed both hands to shoot the thing.
"Four hearts," the man called out, and a man at the end of the hall stuck a card onto the target. The man grinned. "Try to shoot the hearts, if you want to. Don't shoot a person, though."
She took a step back, held the gun in her hand. She hooked her right forefinger onto the trigger, and used the left hand to hold the butt of the barrel of the pistol to keep it steady. She had target practices before; she wasn't excellent, but she was pretty good at it. After a careful aim, she pulled the trigger. The bullet sliced through the air, spinning, and bore a hole in the upper right heart.
"Bravo!" The man said. "Try again."
She aimed again, and this time it was the left upper. Then again, this time the right lower. She missed the last one by a few centimeters. The man was clapping.
"Bravo, you're very good," he said. He called out for another four of hearts, and shot four times, one after another, in rapid succession. She looked at him in surprise as all four found its mark.
"But not as good as me."
"Arien!" Fugo stuck his head out from the doorway. "We're finished."
"Nice shooting, Arien," the man winked, then went back to the other pistol. She walked quickly across the hall and into the room. "Yes?"
"We've decided to let you join us," Giorno explained as Fugo shut the door. "On one condition. You are not to contact the previous party. I'm sorry, but it's for our protection. You must also never use your stand on anyone from Passione. That's for our protection as well."
"Fine."
Fugo turned to look at her. "I guess we have to name your stand, they all have names," he explained. "Mine is called Purple Haze; Giorno's is called Gold Experience. Mista, the man outside who's shooting, his is called Sex Pistols; they're bullet carriers, and that's why his bullets go in any direction. What will yours be called?"
She recalled the metallic, pink sheen on the stand of hers. The vivid red eyes, flashing like red lights. It was pink. It was definitely quite pink.
"Pink Floyd," she replied.
