Hi all! Thanks for the "build up" reviews. I love questions and constructive critiscism. It helps me better my writing lots. And also, thank you so much to all the people that tried to semd links for DoC scripts. None of thme worked, except for Bjanik's, who sent it to me via e-mail on not through a review. Also, thank you to the links that were typed out, such as vincent-valentine...etc, etc, etc.

Oh right. I got a statemnt regarding Vincent's eye colour. I mean, when I first saw him as a Turk, I could have sworn his eyes were dark red. but now that I think about it (thanks for occupying me with this subject, Bjanik), it did seem that there was some brown in them. I guess I had just missed it before. I'd kinda peg his eyes as burgundy, perhaps.

So enough of the boring forwords. On with the story.

Cheers!

Kyyrin

Chapter Five

Vincent awoke with a start, sweating, shivering and uncomfortable. He felt panic rise in his chest.

He'd had a horrible nightmare of the day his mother, Valeya Valentine, had died.

Involuntary, hot tears began to stream down his cheeks. She'd lost the battle to an incurable illness, and wasted away right before his eyes. He had been powerless to save her, being only seven years old. It was a false mindset that many people had, thinking that the younger one was, the less one remembered traumatic experiences in one's lifetime.

He had been in more emotional pain during those horrible months, than he thought any soul could endure. Afterwards, he had distanced and withdrawn himself from the rest of the world. He'd become quieter and shy, a faded shadow of the energetic young boy he had once been. The only person he had opened up to was his father. They had grieved together, and it had strengthened their relationship. But now he too was……………

Vincent's body heaved with sobs and fevered shivers.

If it wasn't enough that his mother had died, his father had then died too, thirteen years later, due to some mysterious cause that even he, his father's last living relative, wasn't told of.

He had been heartbroken both times. And he still was. It was so hard to love, because for him, it always ended in hurt and anguish.

Lucrecia awoke to the sound of muffled, heart wrenching sobs coming from the direction of Vincent's room.

Surprised, she blinked the sleep out of her eyes and looked at the clock. Eleven am.

She had had five hours of sleep, as had he. Much too short for a man that had been so sleep deprived lately. She had hoped he would have slept longer. It would have been good for him.

Wondering what could possibly be wrong that Vincent was so distraught, she sat up, pulled on her lab coat, slipped on her shoes and tied her hair back up. Moving quickly towards the door, she opened it and practically ran to his room, pushing the door open slowly.

There, she was met by a sight that nearly tore her heart to pieces.

Vincent was curled up in a ball on his bed, sobbing uncontrollably. She noted that he was drenched in sweat and shivering mercilessly, not at all coherent or aware of his surroundings. Realization dawned on her. His fever was so high that he must have had an extremely realistic nightmare to put him in this state.

He needed to be comforted. He needed to know he was safe.

She ran to the bathroom and wet a cloth, then rushed over to him, crawled onto the bed, and pulled his shaking figure into her arms, just as she remembered her mother doing to her when she was young.

"Shhhhhhh, Vincent…….you're safe…..it's all over now…….it's alright…..shhhhhhhhh", she soothed, rocking him back and forth as one would comfort a child, settling him so that she could place the cold compress on his burning forehead.

"Mother……", he moaned weakly through sobs.

Lucrecia's eyes filled with tears. Poor Vincent. She remembered him telling her that he had lost his mother to an illness when he was seven. He must miss her horribly.

"And then, in my carelessness, I robbed him of his father as well", she thought to herself as tears once again began to travel down her cheeks. She swallowed the lump of guilt in her throat.

She knew she had been wrong in thinking that being younger helped one forget traumatic experiences easier. Vincent was the proof.

They sat there, entwined. Her arms wrapped around him protectively, stroking his back, and him clinging onto her for dear life, weeping as the fever raged through his body.

"I shouldn't have left him alone," she thought guiltily. "It would have been better I stayed with him while the fever ran its course."

Time passed. Seconds. Minutes. Hours. She wasn't sure how long.

Slowly but surely, she felt the shaking lessen, and the sobs abate slowly.

The fever had broken.

She looked down and found that he had fallen into a deep slumber, one she was sure he was in need of.

She carefully laid him back down onto the bed, frowning at the now sweat and tear drenched pajamas he wore.

Well, there was nothing left to do but change him. She went red at the thought, but she'd get through it. She didn't want him catching his death because she had been too embarrassed to change his clothes.

She moved quietly to his closet and looked inside, searching until she found what she was looking for. A fresh pair of pajama's, knee-length boxer shorts, and a pair of warm, woolen socks. The socks were a precaution. She had made note of the fact that heating was sparse in the manor, and wing in which Vincent's room was located had the least of it. It was near to downright freezing in here. No wonder he had gotten sick. Frowning slightly, she made a mental note to ask Hojo for permission to have the heat turned up in the wing. She had the odd, wrenching feeling that he had kept it turned down purposely.

Hurrying to his side, she undressed him, and, out of complete respect to the man, looked away as best she could when the time came to change his undergarments. Finishing off, all the while blushing furiously, she realized she would have to change the sweat-drenched sheets too. Not wanting to wake him from his much-needed slumber, she carefully removed the sheets and pillowcase from beneath his sleeping form, and switched them with new ones she had found in one of the drawers.

Settling him back down on the now dry pillows, she pulled two fresh blankets over him and pulled the blinds on the windows till the room was comfortably dark enough to sleep in. Despite it now being one pm, she would let him sleep as long as he needed too.

In fact, sleep sounded like a good idea. She hadn't been getting too much of it herself lately. Making the quick decision to return to her room and lie down, she stole one more quick glance at Vincent before slipping out the door.

He looked so at peace now. His features were free of the pain and anguish he had marred them earlier. She smiled softly, and shut the door.

Both Vincent and Lucrecia, tired as they were, slept all through that day, and into the morning of the next, Lucrecia waking only now and then to get something to eat or drink and to check on Vincent. By now, it was Wednesday.

Lucrecia had woken at eight, deciding that as much as Vincent needed sleep, he also needed nourishment to keep strength up, and his dizzy spells from returning.

She vowed to make breakfast, and rouse him only once she was completely finished.

Making her way down to the kitchen, she paused at on of the hallway windows to stare in awe at the scenery outside.

It had snowed more overnight, and the entirety of the vast gardens that made up the front yard of the Shinra manor had been adorned with a blissful blanket of white. It sparkled invitingly as the pale December sun shone in the sky.

Lucrecia hesitated. What she wouldn't give to go out for a walk in the snow right now. Everything outside seemed so peaceful and quiet, that it made her feel completely at ease. But she shook the thoughts. It would have to wait.

With Vincent being as ill as he was, she couldn't allow herself to leave him alone long, for the fear that Hojo might decide to think up another devious plan to make him suffer.

Her hands curled up into fists. Planet, how she hated that man at the moment. He was being nothing but a nuisance to Vincent and herself, treating both of them unfairly.

She threw one last look of longing out the window, and continued to the kitchen. She would find all the time in the world to walk in the snow after Vincent recovered. Hell, she'd take him with her. It would be good for him to get out more, as long as he was bundled up warmly. She had noticed that he didn't have a toque. There was nothing left to but to get him one, seeing as the man was already too busy for his own good. Perhaps as a Christmas present………being of humble nature, Vincent would probably never accept it otherwise.

Stepping inside the empty kitchen, she thoughtfully looked around, pondering what to prepare for them both. She would have to take into consideration that Vincent had a painfully sore throat. Broth with a bit of chicken and some vegetables in it didn't sound like a bad idea, even for her. It was breakfast time, but who would care?

Humming softly to herself, she worked away at making the soup. Once finished, she prepared two cups of tea with lemon and honey, and set them on the tray next to the bowls of soup. Walking over to the cupboards, she took out a glass and filled it with cool water. She pulled out a bottle of cold and flu tablets from the pocket of her lab coat. Opening the bottle, she took out two and placed them on the tablet beside the glass of water. She hated feeding anyone pills, but these would help Vincent recover quickly, and keep his fever from returning.

Lifting the tray, she made her way back upstairs, balancing it on one arm as she opened the door to Vincent's room.

He lay there, as peacefully as he had the last time she'd checked. Almost unwilling to wake him, she walked quietly to his bedside, and set the tray down on his night table. Moving to the window, she pulled the blinds back, and daylight returned to the formerly dark room. Strolling back and picking up a handkerchief from the pile at his bedside, she carefully sat down on the edge of his bed.

Lifting her hand, she began to stroke the stray strands of jet-black hair out of his face.

"Vincent……..Vincent! Rise and shine……time to wake up!"

He stirred slowly. Red eyes opened, squinting at the light, and trying to focus blearily. Weakly lifting a hand, he rubbed his face, and then met Lucrecia's eyes.

Tired crimson met sympathetic hazel. They looked at each other almost lovingly for a moment, neither wanting to look away.

Vincent felt a tingling in his nose, and realized that even though the throbbing headache had vanished, his sinuses now felt more stuffed up than ever. He grimaced. What, Valentine? Did you expect yourself to heal overnight?

The tingling feeling escalated and Vincent buried his face into his pillows, letting out a series of harsh, wet sneezes.

"Excuse be", he muttered in a low, congested voice.

"Well good morning to you too, sleepy head", Lucrecia chirped, as she shoved the handkerchief she had been holding directly into Vincent's face.

"That's quite a nasty cold you've caught there!", she chided, surveying his running, red nose and watery eyes. "But it'll get better with plenty of rest and good care."

As Vincent used the handkerchief to blow his running nose, he remembered the only, embarrassing occasion where he had felt this awful.

He had been in Midgar, in the middle of his Turk training. They had been doing rigorous exercises outdoors in the winter, and he'd caught a vicious cold. But he had decided to stick it out alone, like all Turks were expected to do. That decision ended in him being taken to the med ward because he'd collapsed during sharpshooter training. It had taken him ages to get rid of the label "weakling". He had vowed never to get sick again, and if, he would be strong enough to handle it himself.

However, he had failed once again, and was completely ashamed of himself, not aware that he was letting it show.

"Don't."

He looked up at her, confused.

"Whad?", he muttered congestedly.

"I said don't. Don't you dare feel ashamed for being in this condition, Vincent Valentine".

Their eyes locked again. Weakened, shameful crimson, into fiery, defiant brown.

"Lucrecia….."

"No! You're a normal person, and getting sick is normal. It happens, Vincent, although I'm surprised you haven't caught pneumonia sleeping in this ice-box of a room!", she remarked sternly.

This time he avoided her eyes. He had to agree; it was terribly cold in here during the winter months. There had been times where he had gone to bed wearing two sweaters and a pair of sweats on top of his pajamas, along with the pair of woolen socks he realized he was wearing now. But he had never questioned it. It wasn't his place to ask why there was no heating in his room. He had assumed Shinra just wanted to save money that they didn't need anyways.

Lucrecia eyed him worriedly.

"I'm going to bring you a portable heater to use, until I can convince Hojo to turn the heat up in here", she stated, rubbing her arms against the cold.

Ah. So that was it. He cursed himself for not realizing it before. Hojo was increasing his torment by shutting off the heating in his room. He should have known.

Sneezing again, this time into the handkerchief. He noted that the hot cold feeling had disappeared with the headache, but the sore throat, coughing and stuffiness had escalated.

"Well, you know the old saying, I suppose", Lucrecia continued. "Feed a cold, starve a fever! And if I'm correct……", she brought a hand up to feel his forehead, and, satisfied that it was at a normal temperature, went on. "……you're fever broke sometime around noon yesterday."

He breathed a short sigh of relief. He only remembered waking up sobbing and shivering after having a nightmare about the day his mother died. Never did he want to go through that again. The memories were too painful.

Lucrecia reached for the tray on his night table, but not before helping him into a sitting position. She placed the tablet onto his lap, taking her bowl of soup and cup of tea off first.

Sipping her tea slowly, and watching Vincent tentatively eat his soup, she decided now would be a good time to go hunt for a portable heater. She remembered receiving one from a friend of hers before she had left Midgar. She would check her room, now that Hojo was most likely hard at work in his lab. Eating her soup as well, and finishing off the tea, Lucrecia turned to Vincent with a smile on her face.

"Vincent, I'm going to go search for that portable heater I mentioned earlier. It'll warm this place up and make you more comfortable, alright?"

He looked up from his tea, and nodded slowly.

"And remember to take the pills when you're done. They'll do wonders for you", she said before walking out the door and shutting it behind her to keep in any bit of warmth that the ice-cold room had acquired.

Vincent finished his tea, and took the pills carefully, sighing in pain when they passed down his raw throat. Realizing that he badly needed to take a trip to the men's room, he crawled out from under his covers, and slowly got out of bed.

Pleased that his dizziness had vanished, he still shivered at the frigid temperatures in the small room, noting that he could almost see his breath. Lucrecia had been right. He had stopped paying much attention to it, but he now noticed it was near to downright freezing in the place.

Realizing that a hot shower might do the trick, he headed for the bathroom. The steam might clear up his clogged sinuses as well.

Sighing as the tingling in his nose returned with a vengeance, he quickly pulled out his handkerchief and sneezed violently into it several times. Yep. Definitely time for a shower.

Fifteen minutes later, he finished and pulled on a warm bathrobe over a fresh pair of pajamas and warm socks, feeling slightly better. Slipping into his house shoes, he walked to the window, curiously wondering how much it had snowed in the past days.

The sight that met his eyes was dazzling. The snow had transformed the usually dreary manor gardens into a winter wonderland. So at awe was he with the view, that he pulled up a chair and sat down on it, staring at the beautiful sight. He loved snow. Winter had to be his favorite season. How he longed to take a stroll in the wintry paradise right now. But in his current condition, he doubted Lucrecia would even be happy that he had gotten up to shower, let alone taken a walk in the snow.

He'd be healthy again soon enough. Then he'd walk in the snow as long as he wanted. Perhaps he'd even work up the courage to ask Lucrecia to accompany him. He continued to stare dreamily out the window, thinking of her.

Hope that was to all of your guys' liking. Cya in the next chapter!