Dilly–Dally, Shilly–Shally
"You can bend/ but you can't break."
– Soldier's Daughter, Tonic
Vincent didn't move for a few minutes, unsure if he was hallucinating Nanaki's voice, until he felt the brief thwack! that was undoubtedly his tail against the door. Despite all the jokes about Nanaki's tail being no better than a barbeque, he'd seen how Nanaki flicked it around when he was peeved, and Vincent was glad it was on the other side.
He buried his face in his hands again, reminded of when Cid called at exactly the wrong moment while he'd been staying with Cloud and Tifa. But he made life seem living, didn't he, despite your irritation? Vincent suppressed his cynical inner voice, staring at the coffin that was open in front of him. I never should've come out.
Another thwack and Vincent sighed. "Just let me sleep."
Nanaki snorted loud enough that the sound carried through the heavy door. "We both know you're not sleeping, Vincent." A scratch as Nanaki shifted his claws against the stone floor. "I'd be willing to bet you haven't been able to, at all."
Vincent was forced to concede the point. "I'm through, Nanaki."
"Open the damned door."
Vincent dragged to his feet, sliding the simple key into its lock and letting the click echo as he unlocked it. He crossed to his coffin, lying down and staring at the ceiling as Nanaki pushed open the door, crossing to Vincent.
I can't handle this, Vincent thought, trying to devise a way to get Nanaki out quickly and leave him with his perplexing memories. Nanaki sat next to the coffin as Vincent tucked his normal hand under his hair, elbow sticking out of the wooden casket at an awkward angle. Nanaki gazed down at him with patient eyes, and Vincent wondered how such threats had come from the now–peaceful creature. They sat in silence, and Vincent had a clear vision of Nanaki and Bugenhagen and himself, sitting in Bugen's living room, and he caught a phantom whiff of green tea and Nanaki's fur, and it was enough to spur him into admittance. "She never loved me."
Nanaki scoffed, jaw inches from Vincent's tilted face. "And so you won't free her, although you told Yuffie she deserved to be, despite her intentions?" Vincent met his gaze, a question in his eyes. "Yes, she told us about your conflict. When no one could get a hold of you, we discussed the last time any of us saw you. Cloud called me after visiting Shin–Ra."
He'd been at the mansion for not quite two weeks, and already his friends were gathering for reconnaissance. His friends. He wondered what would've happened if he'd never joined them in the first place, three years ago. Would he still be sleeping here, in this coffin, buried in the weight of his sins?
And should he liberate Lucrecia? What if I can come back to you, Vincent? Had she meant those words? "I am not the one who should free her."
Nanaki stared down at him with disbelief in his eyes. "You are the only one to free her, Vincent."
How could that be true? He'd failed to save her. He'd condemned her and her child with his silence. She'd rescued him, cursed him, guided him, but she'd never loved him. "Nanaki…"
The rust–colored creature rose to his paws, pacing down the side of coffin. Vincent was forced to sit up to watch him. Nanaki had been uncertain last time Vincent had spoke with him, unable to find a place in a world he'd never expected to see, caught between age-old duty to protect his canyon and the desire to discover something else. But now, he stood with surety as he eyed his red–cloaked friend, a sleek gleam to his coat, and even his scars and the burned tattoo seemed brighter, more distinctive and less disfiguring. His one good eye shined with clarity. Nanaki seemed balanced, now, something Vincent had never been able to achieve. How had he…? Vincent suddenly felt ashamed. "How was your journey?"
One side of Nanaki's curved mouth lifted upward as he sat back on his haunches by Vincent's feet. He sucked in a breath, scarred chest expanding, but he gave Vincent a soft grin. "Her name is Dinne, Vincent. My life's mate. I found her and several others of my kind, deep within the mountains by Nibelheim. They've been living there since the Gi's attacks. Their tribe was nearly wiped out, and the survivors have barely scratched out a living for years. They believed that my already dwindling tribe had been completely annihilated."
Vincent could hardly hold back his surprise. So Bugen's words hadn't been the rambling of a nearly deadly disease. "That's incredible, Nanaki."
Nanaki nodded. "Indeed." He padded up the other side toward Vincent, locking eyes. "You, Cloud, and I spent quite a lot of time together, back before Meteor." Vincent nodded, wary of the twist of topic. "Unsure of our paths, disillusioned by our pasts, irrevocably altered by Hojo. And yet all three of us have been…" Nanaki gazed past Vincent's face for a moment, before returning with the remaining words. "Surprised by what fate gave us. I have come to realize many things, my friend. Life is always a struggle of self–doubt. But certain things can buoy that. Especially us, creatures of long, if not unending, life. We have a need for understanding, far greater than our short–lived counterparts. And Dinne," Again, the lop–sided smile. "Has granted me that. I will have her by my side, as long as I live, facing the same fear and despair at watching things change and die and be reborn. I'm not afraid of it anymore, Vincent. I have a companion who understands the burden long life carries."
Vincent dropped his gaze to the floor. He was not a man of many words, and had come to appreciate the same quality in Nanaki. So he listened as his friend continued. "We are so similar, the three of us, watching people we love die protecting us, although we don't feel we deserve it. I spent most of my life believing my father was a coward, degrading him every chance I received. It was sorrowful to watch my mother die, the truth sealed in her heart." He shook his shaggy head from side to side. "And I lived out the rest of his warrior's life for him, much like Cloud is done living for Zack and Aerith. But you are still punishing yourself for the events that took place. You still have so many years ahead of you," Vincent watched with alarm as the flame–tipped tail began to flip behind him, nearly brushing the dry wood of the broken coffins. "And you cannot take the step forward to ensure they will not be spent alone."
Vincent lay back again. "I cannot move forward if there is nowhere to go."
"Do you not believe I regret the years I spent cursing my father?" Nanaki rumbled. The furred face appeared above him, boring into him. "Tifa is right, I suspect. You are more afraid of what joys may lie ahead than the sorrows that are behind you. I never pegged you as one afraid of the unknown, Vincent. Why is this so daunting now?"
Vincent closed his eyes, choosing not to answer.
"Love and hope are intertwined, are they not? One begets the other, meaning nothing if left by themselves. Each step I take, my love of Dinne grows, as does my hope for a recovered future. As love grows, so does hope. They are inseparable, undeniably bound together."
Too much hope is the opposite of despair; an overpowering love may consume you in the end.
"And here you are, burying yourself in sorrow again. Is it from fear of love, Vincent? Are you despairing because she may never have loved you, or just afraid of the hope that comes with the acceptance that maybe she has loved you, all along?"
Vincent stood, stepping out of the coffin, and crossed to the open door, striding down the hall to the lab. He was glad to see that Nanaki didn't follow him. He passed the room littered with books and glass and paper, past the short hallway lined with books. He approached the desk, his golden–tipped boots scattering the rubbish on the floor, and he leaned against it, eyes closed, arms crossed. He reached up to rub the spot between his eyes with the tips of two fingers, running the second knuckle on his thumb up and down the bridge of his nose.
There was too much truth in Nanaki's words. Vincent glanced around the library destroyed by his lover's son. Save him, Vincent. Had he done that? He remembered flanking Sephiroth in his bizarre form, Cloud, Nanaki, and himself at the frontline as Tifa and Yuffie and Cait Sith pounded away at his left side, Cid and Barret working on the right as the three of them in front took every ounce of damage. Vincent had been bound and determined to die in that fight, sealing his and Sephiroth's fate. But he stood there, casting cure magic over and over when Nanaki and Cloud wavered, the smell of his gunpowder hanging in the air and Tifa's battle cries and Yuffie's enthusiastic ki-eis, Cid's hoots and hollers ringing out, and when it was over he'd been glad. Glad to see the smiles on his companions' tired faces. But did I save him? Would she see it that way, when she learns the truth of his death?
He recalled in his mind that last look Lucrecia had given him before leaving the mansion. Her grief had sucked her in like a void; it had controlled every movement and decision she made. She was mourning for him, for the loss of his life, although she had restored it as well as she could, and she'd tried to save him and herself, as well. She grieved for her son and his father and Hojo's madness, but she had also grieved for him. That grief and pain he recognized within himself. All the desperate things they'd done to soothe that grief. This would never work, would it? We've destroyed too much, betrayed too much. I was consumed by my love for you; it distorted until it was no longer pure. I can't do that again.
"Do you love me, Lucrecia? Is that why I am this monstrosity?" He pinched the bridge of his nose before letting his knuckles slide up to his forehead again, trying to rub away the headache that was seeping into the spot between his brows.
If she had never loved you…
Had Hojo known the truth, or was it a skewed version created by his spite and jealousy? Love was as much to blame for this as anything else; how could he be expected to treat it like a gift? If he had never loved her…
No. Don't regret that, no matter what. It's the only beautiful moment you still have…
How did she know? What had made her write that? If she couldn't regret it, why should he? It just might be, he agreed, the only beautiful moment they had left. But what was he supposed to do with it, besides mourn? Back to that again, Valentine?
His mind whirled, and he closed his eyes, nearly overcome by the complex maze it made. Her voice echoed in the space in his skull. I'm so sorry…How many times would he hear that? Save him, Vincent… Save him from what? Is death the same as peace? A man of walking contradictions…Vincent snapped his eyes open, unfocused on the featureless floor as the weight that filled him crystallized into blinding, perfect clarity. Is that what you're afraid of, too much hope?
Yes, Lucrecia, it is.
Vincent heard a shuffle and glanced up, startled at Nanaki's voice from the entryway to the library. "If you can't come back for her, Vincent, come back for the rest of us." Nanaki's somber face gave way to a grin. "Besides, Marlene'll be missing her moogle by now." With that barb firmly in place, Nanaki turned to leave, tail swishing in the air.
Vincent was forced to smile. Marlene. He'd nearly forgotten about the plush doll; he'd slept with it every night he'd been in the mansion. Maybe that's why I couldn't fall into deep sleep. He missed her. Missed the little pointed chin and the way she whipped around Tifa's house dragging one of her various toys behind her, missed the way she grinned at Denzel when the two of them pulled off a mischievous prank. He needed Marlene more than he'd ever needed Lucrecia; he'd loved the scientist, so much he'd died from it, but Marlene was the anchor that held the life he had down. No, Vincent reminded himself, They all are.
When Vincent stepped out of the mansion, he adjusted his far–lighter pack, wondering how Nanaki had made off with the crystals, no doubt retrieving them for Hargo. He glanced over the peaceful town, haunted in the moonlight, a place Tifa and Cloud full–heartedly agreed was creepy. He descended into the town, pausing at the well in the middle of the square.
Belatedly, as he was gazing at the stars, he remembered his phone. Reluctantly pulling it out of his inner pocket, he flicked it open to turn it on. Instantly, the message light began its frantic blink, and he hit the button to let them play before his phone told him exactly how many there were.
The first was from Shelke. "Vincent! They found her! They found Shalua! I… can't leave the clinic, but Reeve told me there's a chance she may be revived. Visit her for me? I…" She seemed to choke back a sob. "I'm getting my ten years back, Vincent, can you imagine?" She clicked off, leaving Vincent pondering what wonders had occurred with the young girl to make her overcome with emotion. Before he could think too deeply, the next message began.
"Where'd the hell you go, you creepy bastard? Shera was gonna make breakfast!" Cid's voice dropped. "We're worried, all right? So call me back to let me know! She makes a damn fine platter, so hurry up."
"Vincent, it's Reeve. I haven't heard from you for a while, but I have news. Excavation crews found Shalua, still alive. It's amazing. I guess you were right when you told me to never give up, right?" It was the most cheerful Vincent had heard Reeve be since the Deepground fallout. "Looking forward to hearing from you!"
"Vincent. Where are you? We're concerned." Indeed, he could hear it in Cloud's voice as he shushed a questioning Marlene. "No, he didn't pick up. Call me back, Vincent."
"Vince… Please don't tell me you're at that cave again. I'm sorry about the way I acted. I just want you to know… Go get her, Vincent. Pull yourself out of that damned coffin or regenerate your wounds or whatever it is you do to heal so fast, which is creepy but kinda cool, man I wish I could do that…" As always, Yuffie couldn't focus. "But Vincent, I get it now. You're doing what you need to do." She sighed. "I hate talking to your Leviathan–cursed phone! Pick up or call me back, damn it!"
Vincent felt a faint smile play at his lips before the next message began. "Vincent. Marlene's so worried sick she won't get out of bed, and Barret's pissed about it, you know how protective he is. Cloud and I aren't much better than her, though." Tifa paused, her gentle voice taking on a stern edge. "I told Cloud once, and now I'm telling you. Quit running. It's time to come home, all right? No more dilly–dally. Free her." Someone called from the background. "We need you." Click. End of messages.
Vincent shut his phone, giving the mansion a backward glance. He never wanted to set foot it in again, he knew. It was a blackhole of dark memories. He'd lost two weeks to it, two weeks he could've been teaching Denzel sharp–shooting or visiting Shelke or sharing a bottle of whiskey with Cloud and Barret, two weeks he could've spent playing with Colin or helping Tifa around the bar, or… Loving Lucrecia.
How did he miss that simple fact?
He turned northwest, back toward Mt. Nibel, knowing that if he moved fast enough, he could take Cid and Shera up on that breakfast offer, after all.