3. Title: Laryngitis
Timeframe: One Month after the battle with Omega
Rating: K+
Spoilers: Mild DoC
Notes: Taking a shot at a new format for this. Apologies if it's awkward to follow… it should be clear shortly.
"How're you feeling?"
"Gross."
"Hm."
"But… shouldn't I be asking you the same thing?"
"What?"
"Never mind. How's your head?"
"I'll survive."
"Heh, figured. Should've hit you harder."
Metal on metal—footsteps on the deck—getting closer.
"Were you surprised? To see her instead of one of us, I mean."
"Something tells me I shouldn't be."
"Nah, they kinda locked me in a closet. Probably because I kept yelling how I wanted to kill you. I think I scared them."
"Hm. So I should be grateful you only gave me a blow to the head instead."
Light, weak laughter. Covered quickly for fear of sickness.
"Yeah, you really should."
"Then thanks. I suppose."
"No problem. Anytime you need to be smacked for running off, making us all worried sick, just call me! I'll whack you so hard you see stars!"
"I don't doubt that."
Silence. Engines rumble in the background.
"… Was it any different?"
"Hm?"
"After everything that… happened… was that place… was she any different?"
"Why do you want to know?"
"Because I've been trying to figure out why you'd wanna go back there of all places. I mean… there's places a lot closer to brood. Why there? Did something change? Did she turn into something other than a big chunk of materia?"
Metal on metal. An apologetic wince. A flash of red out of the corner of an eye. The rail creaks with new weight.
"She hasn't changed..."
"I'm sorry. I… that was stupid to say—"
"But, I have."
A glance. A small smile.
"Not really."
"Hm?"
"You still don't talk hardly enough."
"Hm."
"See? Right there. If anyone else were around, they'd get mad. Or they'd start muttering just to prove me wrong. You still act like you've got no voice or something."
"Sorry."
"Nope, you're not getting off that easily. You've gotta show me you've changed. You've gotta… um… tell me a story. Yeah, you heard me. I'll stand right here, all nice and quiet and keeping lunch down, and you just talk."
"I don't have any stories…"
"That's crazy. You've gotta have some."
"None with 'happy endings'."
A scoff and an eye-roll. Hand reaching out, punching playfully.
"You've got this story, Vinnie. So far so good, right?"
Red glance flicks down. Ghost of a smirk.
"This story hasn't ended yet."
"So what? Tell me anyway. And don't leave out the cool parts where you flew around with that giant gun. Cid was so jealous. I mean, you were flying! What was that like?"
"Yuffie."
"What?"
"I thought you said you were going to be quiet."
"I'll be quiet when you start talking."
Low, rough mirth—short-lived, but there all the same.
"All right."
The world slides by below, peaceful.