Resonance
"And it won't take long to burn/ all eyes on me/ through the nothing that you've learned/ all eyes on me/ and the things you choose to be/ all eyes on me"
– All Eyes on Me, Goo Goo Dolls
Vincent stared up at the flickering light that was Cosmo Candle, and did not look forward to the dusty hike up the sharp cliffs that housed the town. It had been a long day. After experiencing a commercial airship flight with a pilot so unsteady it even made him feel slightly airsick, he'd managed to sympathize with Yuffie. But the train ride was far, far longer than he ever cared to experience again; he was beginning to miss the days of hard travel on foot.
Undeceived by the permanent dusk of the canyon, he studied the sky, knowing it would fall dark soon. He did not want to arrive and disturb the whole town, so he decided to wait until morning. Vincent looked around, finding a slight overhang in one of the cliff–sides. He made a cold camp, satchel thrown to the side against the rock wall, cloak swept over his legs and torso. He put his hands behind his head, bending one lanky knee and tucking his foot against the opposite side of his other limb. Settling his hips into the stony ground, he gave a slight smile at the feeling of pointed edges digging into his spine. He stared up at the night sky, the stars brighter than anywhere else in the world, untainted by electrical light. A cold wind whipped over him, rattling pebbles from the cliff above him, making him shiver from where it penetrated his clothing.
He loved this feeling; the discomfort and chill, the emptiness and endless expanse of sky, reminding him his life was small, that thousands of souls had been filtered through the Lifestream and the universe it obeyed, that no matter how dire or how much agony he suffered, he was just a speck from that sea of stars. He remembered the pressure, the immensity of the sky when he had pushed himself into it, breaking the barriers of the planet's pull, the rush and the burn and the scream no one had heard as he let himself be sucked back into it, that headlong plunge into Omega, and how when everything broke afterward, and he spiraled down toward the surface, he truly, honestly thought he might expire in the flash of heat and no one would be able to tell his ashes from Omega's. But he had caught himself anyway; body sore from the inside out, through and through, and it had taken him two days before he could move again. Something still needed to be said, and he knew now, there was much left to do.
So Vincent gazed up at the wide splash of stars, letting that barrenness wash over him, glad to be free, if just for a moment, and slipped into sleep without even noticing.
He dreamt he was in Tifa's living room, and she was bent over the coffee table and Marlene, who had papers and a textbook spread across the wood surface, and both of them gazed so intently down at the homework that he was surprised it didn't burst into flames. But when Tifa's forehead smoothed out, and Marlene glanced up at her, they both looked in his phantom direction. Tifa gave a soft smile, Marlene a bright grin, and he heard a rock rattle…
He opened his eyes, unmoving in every other way. His right hand twitched, aching for his revolver, but he restrained himself. The three desert sahagins that surrounded him hadn't noticed he was awake yet. By the power of Holy, I hate these creatures. He'd had a gritty enough time dispatching the ones from Shin–Ra mansion's sewer systems; their greasy slime and high–pitched hiss made him want to snarl. One of the three prodded the ground next to him with its staff, obviously encouraging the others to attack, muttering in that low, guttural tone. Vincent watched them, waiting for the right moment, and the bold one of the three turned toward him, intent on gutting him with the sharpened stick. It lifted it high above its head as the other two spread out around him, gleeful with their intended kill. The sahagin brought down the staff, and the metallic tink! of it being deflected by Vincent's gauntleted arm was lost in the echoing boom of Cerberus off the cliff–side. Vincent used the momentum from the deflection to spring himself to his feet, the blood and flesh of the first creature spraying across the rocks and raining down on him and the creatures he still faced. He suppressed the urge to slick the gore off his face, instead letting Cerberus ring out once more as he darted to the side, the sahagin left still standing lifting it's weapon and springing out with a quick, spearing jab. Vincent dodged it smoothly, the creature being far below his skill level, and since he was in too close of a proximity to be harmed by the creature's staff or for another clean shot, he reached out with a snarl, sweeping the legs out from it and cleanly snapping its neck with the unnatural force that was his left arm.
The horizon was filtered with that familiar pre–dawn glow; Vincent stood in the shadow of the overhang, not even panting from the split–second battle. He looked around at the mess the death of the three monsters had created, pooled blood and fragments of bone and that sickly smell hanging in the air, before wiping the rust–colored flecks off the triple barrels of his gun with one edge of his cloak and holstering it. I'll have to clean that thoroughly, tonight. He picked up his sack, slinging it over one shoulder before stepping around the disarray and back onto the trail. I'll have to clean everything about me, for that matter. His ears rung from the strong echo, his boots and hair and cloak speckled with blood and gristle, and he gave one last disdainful look at the bodies of the sahagins before trudging up the trail, finally wiping the splatter from his face. The bitter scent of it wafted into his nose, his beasts bubbling up, and he took a long breath to repress them again. He hated the pump of his heart, the adrenaline rush that made them wake and scramble for more bloodshed, the feeling of power that rushed through him, sapping away at what humanity he still possessed and fought to retain. He hated it, but he loved it, as well.
Vincent knew the gunshots had woken up the entire town; the nightly guard had undoubtedly retrieved the elders to tell them something was coming. They would be assembled and ready to fight, and he would walk up those long steps covered in the aftermath of a battle, looking like the gruesome angel of death. He prayed Nanaki was at the frontline, otherwise he'd have a whole town to subdue without injuring them, and he did not look forward to that.
Goddamn desert cretin…
Thankfully, Nanaki was at the top of the steps when Vincent, dusty and filthy, began to ascend them. Recognizing the distinctive crimson cloak, Nanaki waved the surrounding townsfolk off. He padded down to meet Vincent, catching him halfway. "I suspected it was you." He turned, and they climbed side–by–side. "Nothing besides three barrels could make that resonance." Vincent gave a small snort, peeved by the rest of his morning. Nanaki raised his sensitive snout into the air. "Sahagins?" Vincent nodded. "Pests." They resumed the climb in silence.
They reached the flat base of the town; Nanaki guided him to the inn, calling out a greeting as he entered. Vincent remained outside, knowing the stench that rolled off him would not be welcome, and leaned against the wall next to the curtained doorway. A few minutes later Nanaki poked his rust–colored head out. "You are free to use their bathing facilities. I also arranged a room for you." Vincent gave him a nod, and swept through the doorway, taking the direct path to the bathing area.
After a thorough shower, Vincent felt much better. His clothes, on the other hand, would take a few wash cycles to come clean, the owner of the inn informed him. So he bought a set of clothes, forgoing the robe she had provided him with, and left a substantial stack of gil on the counter while she was in the back. He brushed the curtain aside to exit, lifting one hand to his face to shield his eyes from the golden sunlight. The town was still, its people back to their daily morning routine. He shook his bangs from his eyes, unruly from the lack of bandana, annoyed at the way the edges brushed his cheekbones. He crossed the open expanse to the stairs that meandered up to Bugenhagen's home. The weapon seller called out a greeting as he passed, and his general irritation at his day began to subside. Despite contrary opinion, he did not mind other people; he simply didn't want to explain to curious onlookers or try to sooth fearful, preconceived suspicion. There were much, much better uses for his time, and most of them didn't involve help from others, so he chose not to disturb them with his presence.
He climbed the ladder up to Bugen's observatory, taking in the sweeping view before knocking on the door. Bugen opened it with a creak, motioning him inside instantly. Nanaki was perched on the couch casually, giving Vincent a nod in greeting. "Thank you for the help earlier. The innkeeper was most gracious."
"Don't you know that you are always welcome in Cosmo Canyon?" Bugenhagen exclaimed from where he stood in front of his stove, mixing three cups of tea. He turned, setting a widened bowl in front of Nanaki, and handed the other mug to Vincent as he lowered himself to the couch. Vincent crossed his legs, ankle on a knee, before bringing the rim of the mug to his mouth. The three of them could sit here all day, he knew, in pensive silence, punctuated only by Bugen's occasional outward exclamation of his thoughts. But as much as he wanted to enjoy the peacefulness, he knew he had not time to waste.
"I have come for advice," Vincent began. "Have either of you spoken to Tifa or Cloud?"
Nanaki shook his head. "Since she contacted me to tell me of your return, I haven't heard from her."
Vincent glanced down at his tea, watching the warm liquid swirl, sweet scent tickling his nose. "It seems that… I may be able to recover Lucrecia from her confinement." He raised his eyes, looking at the grave expression on Nanaki's furred face. "The doctor in Mideel who is treating Shelke told me one of your elders knew a great deal about crystals. I wish to ask their opinion."
"Ah, Hargo. She has an impressive expertise." Bugen looked thoughtful. "Crystals, you know, are key to the planet's health. They form in the cracks it suffers, as reinforcement and structure. They can be likened to a rough form of materia." Bugenhagen crossed the room, picking up a receiver to call his fellow elder.
Nanaki watched Vincent with heavy eyes, saying nothing, and he left him to his thoughts, knowing the older creature would speak when ready. Bugen returned to the room. "Hargo said she'd be here in a minute," he flashed a bright grin. "Good to see you're moving on with your young life, Vincent." He gave them his signature laugh.
Vincent snorted. These were the only two people he could ever share a room with and still be considered young. There was a knock on the door, and Hargo let herself in with a swirl of dusty robes. She was a middle–aged woman, with a neat, brunette bun and laugh lines around her mouth. "Sorry. New shipments of goods. Had to make sure my loafer of a daughter was putting them away before I left." The item shopkeeper gave them sweeping glance. "What help did you need, Bugenhagen?"
"Our friend Vincent Valentine sought it, actually." He responded.
Vincent set down his tea, rising from the couch. He gave the elder a brief bow. "I heard of your knowledge from Dr. Harlen Knotwood in Mideel." He met her steady gaze. "I have need of your advice."
She crossed to the couch, giving him a nod as they both sat. Bugenhagen returned to the kitchen to make more tea. "Advice on crystals?" He could see the focused intelligence in her warm brown eyes, and knew he had found the right person. "They form in places where the planet has been forced to deal with a shock or a wound. They often serve as a bridge when the healing process takes an inordinate amount of time, a base structure the Lifestream can build off from." She glanced up at him. "They are fairly rare to find these days, since the Lifestream regained Holy; I can't imagine there would be any wounds deep enough to spur crystal formation." She thanked Bugen as he handed her a cup of tea, sipping it as she waited for Vincent's reply.
Vincent shifted on the couch, setting his tea down. "There is a cavern, near Mt. Nibel," He explained Lucrecia's predicament to her, with a minimum of details.
Hargo, for her part, did not react with shock. "How does someone survive in a crystallized state?"
"She is also a product of human experimentation," Vincent told her. "Hojo's experimentation."
Hargo fell silent at the cursed scientist's name. It was known and hated in every town and city, but the mere mention of it in Cosmo Canyon was known to provoke protective snarls. They not only viewed him as a reviled, forsaken man, but as a kidnapper, as well.
Her eyebrows smoothed out as she concentrated on the problem presented to her. "The only thing that comes to mind…" She looked up at him again, cluing him into her thoughts. "Crystals resonate to particular frequencies. It varies from crystal to crystal, of course, depending on properties and formation patterns. Those frequencies, at certain octaves and intervals, can reinforce or destroy the crystal." She shook her head. "But I've never had to preserve something contained in one before." She glanced off to the side, staring out the window. "If it's done just right, a crystal will simply disintegrate, leaving nothing but dust. I think that would be the best course."
Vincent pulled his eyebrows together, skeptical. "It is that simple?" How long ago could I have accomplished this?
Hargo let out a brief laugh. "Of course it's not simple, son." Vincent's eyebrows shot up at the epithet. "It takes an enormous amount of energy to produce the exact frequencies, and I am still fine–tuning my machine. And experimenting with its effects on materia, as well." She stood. "I must be getting back to my shop, though. I will be happy to help, if you can bring me several samples for analysis and testing." She gave Nanaki and Bugen each a nod, before turning back to Vincent. "Every life is valuable to the Lifestream and the planet; it's a shame she should be stuck, unable to live and eventually return."
Vincent stood, shaking her hand. "I will bring you samples as soon as possible. I appreciate your help."
She laughed. "My pleasure, really. Always wanting to further my research." Vincent started. Are all scientists the same? Nothing but their research? Hargo gave Bugen and Nanaki another glance. "Thank you for your unending hospitality, Bugenhagen." The door puffed air in behind her.
Shortly after, Vincent returned to his room at the inn, switching on his phone once more. The message light began flashing. I should've known. He hit the button for speakerphone, changing into his regular attire that the innkeeper had left on the top of the dresser. The phone began its usual litany. Thank Holy, I only have one message.
He pulled his shirt over his head, and began fastening the buckles that held the light armor in place. It felt so much better, to be wearing clean clothes again, and not loose, flowing ones, either.
The message was not from Yuffie, as he expected. "Vincent, it's Cloud. I'm calling, well, because I wanted to talk to someone who doesn't hate me at the moment. And we're all wondering how you and Shelke are doing." Cloud let out an "hmph" noise. "And I was thinking. What are you supposed to do if they won't forgive you?" He sighed. "Never mind. Can't wait to hear from you." Click. "End of messages," The recorded voice intoned.
As soon as the sun began to go down, Vincent left his room to sit on the platform by the Canyon's never–ending fire. He pondered Cloud's strangely honest message, while watching the licking fire casting its uneven shadows across the ground. What could have gone so wrong that Tifa wouldn't forgive Cloud? Vincent thought back to three long years before, to that eerily calm look on Aerith's face, that expression that maybe only Vincent didn't deny as the unflinching acceptance it was. After all the life and chance she gave us… Why do we make forgiveness so hard to seek and receive? He had cared for Aerith, in his unspoken way, despite her naivety and his withdrawn distrust. She had been so… undeniably dedicated. He felt something deep within his chest crack, and he remembered Marlene's dancing eyes and Tifa's gentle smile, and the hopeful countenance Shelke possessed. Gifts she had left, if only they knew how to appreciate them. He knew it was time for him to accept forgiveness as something to be earned and offered, not denied. And yet he found he had no words of advice to present to Cloud.
The shadows around the fire changed; Nanaki had joined him on the platform, sitting silently beside him. They watched the flickering light for a few moments, before Nanaki gave him a long gaze. "I admire this… quest you have undertaken, Vincent. This town is peaceful and content, but its citizens are still restless. I think we, as a people, have forgotten the unending trials that make life, in these turbulent times." He gazed up at the sky above the fire, ashes flittering against the stars unveiling themselves. "I was a warrior before I was anything else for so long."
"Indeed." Vincent agreed. "Everyday hardships seem much more difficult after living in a world so focused on simple survival. We forget the things that made it so important."
"I am Nanaki, son of the brave warrior Seto, but what else can I be?" Nanaki muttered, raising his slender snout to the night. He let out a long howl, one that echoed against the rise of the town and its surrounding cliffs, and it was Vincent's turn to give his muddled friend a long look, and wonder how life had gotten so desperate that an entire world had forgotten what it meant to be alive.