Wrecking Yard
"I wish it were simple/ but we give up easily/ you're close enough to see that/ you're on the other side of the world to me"
–Other Side of the World, KT Tunstall
Vincent stood on the rocky ledge outside Lucrecia's cavern, spray from the waterfall sprinkling darkened flecks across his cloak, and wondered how he came to be here so soon after swearing he never would again. But then again, he'd been determined to seal off this portion of his heart, and all it took was a few, simple words to amend that pledge. He considered the waterfall, the downward rush of pure energy, admiring its beauty. How many times had he been here and never noticed how hypnotizingly dazzling it was?
Lowering himself to the rough ground, he watched the streaming water for a while. What am I here for, besides crystals? Am I being a fool by trying to reconcile my past with a future? He squeezed his arm to his side, feeling the moogle doll in between. He'd changed, he knew, in the time since he'd been here last. He thought about when he'd last exited through the waterfall, done so often he'd hardly gotten wet, and his surprise at seeing Shelke waiting for him. Yes, he had gazed up at the sky with a flicker of hope. But hope of what? He bore his eyes into the opening, as if he could see past the waterfall and into the cavern, into something that would yield answers. Will this plunge me back into that blackened era?
He stood despite his misgivings, slinging the pack off his back, swiftly undoing the buckles at his throat. The day was sunny and warm, but he wanted Moogle and the rest of his supplies to stay dry. He laid his cloak neatly across the leather pouch, tucking them under a crag similar to the one he'd recently spent the night under. He turned to check the sky, distrustful in spite of the lack of clouds. Straightening, he approached the opening and crossed under the chilly cascade of water.
It felt like it had been eons instead of a few weeks; so familiar and yet foreign: the quiet dripping of water from the curved ceiling, the jagged juts of crystalline rock, the gentle rippling of the pool at the center. Most of all, that calm face of hers, arms crossed like an angel or, Vincent thought, like someone laid to their final rest. She had disappeared from his dreams nearly two weeks prior; Vincent felt slightly shaken, knowing he had reason to miss the twisted blessing that was his nightmares. He stood mesmerized by her silent visage, his purpose entirely forgotten. How does it fade so fast, this memory, this feeling? He could feel his heart fragmenting all over again; did she realize the rampage she released on him, just by sharing this close grotto? How could she, when she was gone to Odin knew where, absent from his dreams, the only connection they shared beside their warped history?
He felt so naked in this moment, stripped of all he'd become so accustomed to bearing, missing those burdens because they were all he had known, for so long, before letting them go. Now, confronted with them again, before the torment and unrelenting void could pull him back, he grasped for something he'd never felt.
He pulled off his boots first, armor next, bandana last. Bare of everything except his leather pants, he waded into the pool at the base of Lucrecia's feet, gazing up at her on her crystalline pedestal. He ground his teeth together until they should have been powder, right fist pounding the surface of the water hard enough to make the side of it sting. He felt desperate with vulnerability and his uncontainable grief, savoring it and hating it, all the same after so long. "I could have let you go," he told her. "I would have spent my long, miserable life missing you, and it could have been enough, just to know I'd done something to deserve the time we'd spent together. But would that," he faltered, unable to form it into words. "Would that have been better than this?" Her peaceful face gave away no secrets. He let his knees give out beneath him, weak with emotions he'd never allowed himself to face, thinking it would make him stronger, knowing now he'd been afraid. Anger, sorrow, guilt… He knew what to do with those. But fear, defenselessness? He crouched on his knees, chin brushing the top of the water, and remembered how powerful those feelings were. How have I… let myself reach this point? He lay back in the shallow water, his hair floating behind him, body buoyant despite the unthinkable modifications it held. How did I live that way, for so long, believing I would never go through this again, if I just didn't let myself?
"..incent…" His chin shot up, splashing water, and he brushed his damp bangs from his eyes. It came again. "Re… member… cent…"
The picnic basket was open between them, and slices of apple and hunks of bread and cheese spread on the blanket. She had taken off her white lab–coat in the warm air, and he had shed his suit jacket shortly after, rolling his shirtsleeves up. They had an open bottle of red wine; Lucrecia had forgotten the glasses in her eagerness, and they passed it back and forth, drinking straight from the narrow gap. He tasted her lips on it, every time he swallowed, and maybe that was what led him to have a few more sips than he should have. He let his eyes roam over the hillside, Shin–Ra mansion looking picturesque below them, birds chirping among the blossoms in the trees, grass yellow–green and wavering in the light breeze, wildflowers blooming like they were afraid color would fade from the cosmos any moment and they must shine their best before it happened. Mostly, though, he watched her. He couldn't remember how he had made her laugh. He did remember, though, how she lifted her chin, letting her laughter roll out of her, one hand clutching at her not–yet–pregnant belly and the other covering her mouth. A breeze drifted over them, carrying the scent of wildflowers, but underneath, Vincent smelled her skin: soft, warm, sweeter than he'd ever imagined a woman could smell like. And then she laid a hand on his arm and told him he had the driest, wittiest sense of humor she'd ever heard, and he smiled as she seemed to catch hold of a memory, dropping her hand. Vincent blinked, knowing she had touched on something distressing, but before he could ask he what was wrong, she shook her head and smiled again.
They lay back on the blanket, not touching, and he could just see the tips of her pink–painted toes and her red shoes bouncing where she had her feet crossed at the ankles. He stared, fascinated, knowing it wasn't just the wine; he rolled his head to look at her, and she was gazing up at the branches that extended out in front of their vision, and he wanted nothing more than to watch her, all day. Driven by compulsion and likely alcohol, he leaned off one side of the blanket, plucking a bright yellow daffodil. He leaned over her as she watched him, half–smile gracing those curving, pink lips, and he tucked it into the ribbon she used to keep her hair back, smiling at the way it contrasted her golden hair, bringing out its subtle highlights. She gazed up at him where he leaned on one elbow, body turned toward her, and she lifted one hand halfway to her head, palm open. How does it look? She inquired of him, and he smiled down at her.
You're beautiful, he told her before catching himself, meaning to compliment the accessory. He glanced around quickly, hoping she didn't hear the subconscious truth behind his words. He let his eyes fall back on her smiling face, his heart pounding as she raised that open palm to his cheek, drawing him down to her, and he was caught in the swirling depth of her melted–honey eyes, before kissing her with a tentative grace, more careful than he'd handled any gun. She slid her hand up his cheek and through his hair, grasping the other that had come to rest behind his neck. He let himself fall against her, body pressed up to hers, nerves shocking to life as he felt the length of her body. And he kissed her, mouth light as breath alongside hers, and his chest exploded with the tightness that had been building all afternoon, spreading through him, down him, twining him to her like ivy clung to the mansion. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tight to him, and felt her do the same, and she slipped her hands into the collar of his shirt, stroking his neck and the sensitive place behind his ears, and he thought he would die from ecstasy. He found out not long after, though, that it simply wasn't possible.
Vincent cracked open his eyes, chest aching from the memory, the only time she'd ever let herself loosen the reins on her feelings for him, the only time she allowed him to hold her, kiss her. He told her many times how he'd felt, of course, even managing to scrounge up a presentable ring, though he knew it was unlikely she'd accept. It broke his heart, all the same, seeing her turn to Hojo. If only she'd told him the truth that day, maybe the tides would have changed, because he'd never have blamed her. But now, he gazed up at her, filled with regret, but knowing he had the chance to make her smile, hold her hand, to love her again. He sat up, swishing water around him, and brought a wet hand to a wet face. How long had it been since he'd shed tears? "Lucrecia…" He swallowed, hard enough to clear his swollen throat. "We'd never be the same…" He dropped his hand back into the water. "Is it still worth it?" He put his face into wet hands, dark hair clinging to his cheek and fingers, and wallowed in a silent trance so deep even the water he rested in seemed to disappear.
Which is why he was startled when, after hearing rocks skate and clatter, a particular ninja tumbled to the hard ground just a few feet away. Instantly, he was on his feet, disbelieving the intrusion, inflamed by her trespassing in what was his most sacred place. He stood, cold and unflinching, not offering assistance, as Yuffie struggled to her feet, one hand clutching her Conformer and the other idly rubbing the back of her head. She grinned at him, tentative. "Guess I blew the graceful entrance of the shining star of Wutai, huh?"
Vincent pinned her with a steely glare. "Yuffie, what are you doing here?"
"I just wanted to check on you, you know?" She clasped her hands behind her back, rocking on her the heels of her feet.
He remained silent. She paced toward him, anxious, her eyes taking in his compromised state of dress. When did I last see the supposedly impenetrable Yuffie Kisaragi nervous? Vincent watched her with narrowed eyes. Ah. Right before she stole all our materia, that's when. She dropped herself to one side of the pool, point of her ninja star buried in the sand, forcing him to turn away from Lucrecia to watch her. She looked up the entrapped woman, her expression hardening into a cold mask. Vincent already knew why she had come; it was impossible to avoid this moment forever.
"When Barret told me that you were… going to bring her back," Yuffie began, her fingers tracing patterns in the sand, patterns he'd seen repeated in Wutai's famous sand gardens. "I needed to make sure you knew what you were doing."
Vincent waded out of the pool, dripping water onto the sand. He stood apart from her, prompting her to continue with his silence. Her eyes flashed up to him, defiant and daring. "Because I don't see why you'd want to bring back the woman who made your life a living hell." She shook her head, dark hair flinging out from her face, whipping about her green bandana. She brought her knees to her chest. "You're still hung up on her, when she left you for another man? When she ruined your life?" She shoved herself off the ground, energy bounding loose, unable to stay still with her unease. She turned toward Vincent, gray eyes like the ocean in a storm, never staying in one place. She brushed sand off her hands with the sides of the khaki shorts she seemed to favor, flat stomach heaving with forced breath. "The life I've saved how many times? I just…" She cast her hands to her sides, taking a reproachful step toward him before holding her hands out in supplication. "I just don't think this is a good idea, Vincent." She dropped her hands again, giving Lucrecia's form a sidelong glance. "I have a bad feeling about this…"
Vincent crossed his arms, lowering his chin. He caught her gaze before raising an eyebrow, face like stone. "I know what I'm doing, Yuffie."
It wasn't enough for the restless ninja. She flung her arms out from her, taking another step closer. "But, Vincent, all she's going to do is break your heart again!"
He dropped his head to his chest, closing his eyes. How was he supposed to explain it to the naïve girl in a way she'd understand? She simply couldn't, he knew, because she didn't want to. If Yuffie had anything, it was strength of will. When he opened his eyes again, she was standing right in front of him, gazing up at him with those eyes, her bare arms rising with goosebumps. If only she'd say what she'd really come to say. But, no, the young woman had to torture him first. His heart still tumbled and ached, mind still churning from his memory of Lucrecia, and now he was forced to reckon with his unresolved feelings about Yuffie. What am I supposed to tell her? That no matter what she does, she cannot compare to the whirlwind that ties Lucrecia and I together? That no matter how much I care for her, I cannot let Lucrecia rot while I live on? He stared into the tempest that was her eyes. But how profound are her emotions?
"She needs to be freed, whether or not her intentions involve me." Vincent gave her a tight frown. "She deserves that much, after helping save the planet."
Yuffie snorted indignantly, dropping her eyes. "Yeah, after she nearly destroyed it." She lifted her gaze to Vincent's again. "Just like she nearly destroyed you."
Discovery needs to be had. Vincent shot out his hands, grabbing her by the shoulders. He stared down at her, and she looked up at him with shocked eyes. "Yuffie… Do you love me?"
Yuffie broke from his hold, hands warding him off. "Whoa, whoa! What are you talking about?"
Maybe not as profound as she has led herself to believe. "Answer me."
She caught her bottom lip with her teeth. "I… I care for you, Vincent. I want to see you happy." Her eyes told him otherwise.
Vincent sighed. "I care for you as well," he told her, before gazing up at Lucrecia again. It felt so wrong, to be admitting this in her presence. "I care for you a great deal, Yuffie." He shook his head, plummeting his gaze to the ground. "But you cannot live your life pining after someone who is more monster than human."
Yuffie shoved him abruptly in the chest. It caught him off guard, and he took a step back to maintain his balance. "Stop it! Stop it with the 'I'm a monster' crap! I know it's not true! You can't fool me, Vincent, I've seen how kind and brave you are." She narrowed her eyes at him. "Can't you just live your life, Vincent? Without torturing yourself over her?"
Vincent repressed the urge to sneer that flooded him. "And live it with you? Watch you grow old, wither away before my eyes, without leaving Wutai a proper heir? Would you forsake your homeland? Because that's what you'd have to do, Yuffie. They'd never accept me there." He leaned forward, boring into her, unable to stop the outward flow, sentimental limit broken. "That would be torture only to benefit you, Yuffie. I would still live, pining for someone lost and gone. No different from what I'm doing now."
She stumbled back, stung by his scorn, raising a hand to her eyes. "I'm… I'm sorry, Vincent, I just…" She let out a strangled noise before sweeping her weapon into one hand and darting out of the cave.
Vincent hung his head in his hands, filled with self–loathing. He hadn't meant to be so harsh with her; he knew she had been vulnerable, just like him, and they had reacted to each other unfairly because of it. What kind of situation did he have to salvage, now?
With a heavy feeling of dread, Vincent dressed again, and then gathered up several hand–sized crystals lying loose around the cavern. He gave Lucrecia one last, long glance before turning to pass through the waterfall. Can you forgive me the faint feelings I harbor for Yuffie? Or will that affection drive us apart, like Hojo did before?
When Vincent stepped outside, he found it was pouring rain. Already soaked to the core, he threw out his arms and let it wash over him.
If only this were simple…