Chapter 7: The One Who Should Have Slept
Morning came with its usual cheery fervor, sunlight pouring in over everything, particularly over Cid. He sleeps heavily, and, when we aren't curled up around one another, tends to spill himself over whatever he's passed out on. I try not to muse on his presence, but his sleeping face, bathed in sunlight and turning his skin and hair that soft, warm gold, makes me need to watch him for just a moment.
He is beautiful and golden, and the sunlight loves him. All is right in the world.
But, staying in bed doesn't suit me these days, so I dressed and stepped outside. The cold air felt refreshing-- the newness of fresh air and open spaces has yet to be lost on me, after being kept in that miserable box-- but the question of what to tell Cloud still had its claws sinking into my back.
Sephiroth's long, lonely journey of discovery, ending in the summoning of Meteor and, perhaps, the end of human life itself; Lucrecia's pregnancy, manipulation,
and death; the imprisonment and (perhaps most disturbing) renaming of Red XIII, the capture and murder of Aeris, and whatever bizarre things he might have done to Cloud. All these atrocities had their roots within Hojo's hands-- we had ALL suffered because of what Hojo had done, the only difference was that some of us suffered more directly than others.
The more I thought about it, the more questions I had.
"Why does Hojo obsess so much over Sephiroth's success if his goal is to destroy everything? Is it simply the influence of Jenova, or is he just insane?"
Admittedly, we had never been friends, Hojo and I. The rare times we spoke when it wasn't strictly to our respective orders, it was often along the lines of "Don't touch those samples," or "Hands off, doctor,
those are classified."
What if I had been friendlier to him, I wondered.
Hojo's was a quiet suffering, if it was ever there; he never worked well with anyone, content with his own intelligence for company. That kind of life had to have been difficult, and although I couldn't bring myself to forgive him-- there is no suffering that could justify the misery he had visited upon everyone around me-- I thought, perhaps, I could understand if I had enough time.
And, I reminded myself bitterly, I would have a very,
very long time.
But, long time or no, a man must eat to keep his strength, so I came inside for breakfast. The faint sweetness of sugar in my coffee, the creamy saltiness of butter on warm, fragrant bread; details I had taken for granted before my incarceration. Does it really take that kind of deprivation to appreciate the small miracles of mundane life? If not for the night sky,
would anyone think the stars are beautiful?
As I mused, Cid roused from his nest of blankets and greeted me with a sun-warmed embrace.
"Morning, sunshine," I said softly. "Did you sleep well, chief?"
He nodded and sat next to me. "I was thinking..."
"I'd wondered what that burning smell was," I replied.
He snorted and poured himself some tea. "I'm serious,"
he said, "I was thinking about what you said last night... I think Cloud might have a point."
My heart sank in my chest; of all people who should have understood, or at least sympathized, shouldn't it be a man whose dreams were dashed by the same hands that killed Lucrecia and imprisoned me? But I said nothing, and felt my fists tighten as he continued.
"I know you want him dead, Vincent- we all do, don't forget- but you're the only one of us who really knew him personally for more than a few days; you know first-hand what kind of shit he can do--"
"Precisely why I SHOULD go, Cid! I know all too well what he--"
"Let me finish! I said, you know what he can do, and that's gonna mess you up when it comes down to the real fight. If you go up to fight Hojo, that's more blood on your hands and more nightmares, more shit you'll have to pick up and try to put down."
Cid cast his eyes down for a minute, sat down in his chair and pulled me close to him. He put his arms around my waist and put his head against my stomach.
"Look... I know you want to get this guy, but you don't need more of his bullshit, and that's what you're gonna get if you do this... Really think about what you're doing here, okay? Sometimes it's just better to let it go."
I ran my fingers through his soft, golden hair, and took a moment to consider. He had a very good point-
would I really get closure out of participating in this?
For a long moment we were silent, each lost in our own thoughts, and again I found myself paying closer attention to Cid than the things that should have been crowding my tired mind. I couldn't fault him for worrying-- he does things that worry me, on occasion-
but I never interfere like he was doing then. I felt like he had decided what I needed without really understanding, although deep down I knew he didn't mean anything but what he'd said.
But my silence must have made him uncomfortable, and he seemed to have taken it as indignant rather than introspective.
"Vincent... look... If you say you're good to deal with this, I'll believe you, and I'll back you to the hill, just... decide what you need to do, for your own sake, and do it. I..." He stopped for a minute,
considering his words-- a rare expression, I can tell you-- and then, quietly, "Whatever you do... it won't make me love you any less."
It was the first time either of us had said it out loud. It was the first time I'd ever heard anyone say it to me, really, and I wrapped my arms tight around him. "Cid... I have to do this... Everyone I have ever loved has suffered because of him. If I can't even be there to see him meet justice, then I will have watched him live, sin, and die, without ever doing anything to stop him. I have to go, Cid."
He sighed, but he nodded, and when he finally stood up he gave me that cocksure expression he usually wore in situations like this. "All right... then I'll just tell Cloud that you and I are going with him to stomp Hojo into the ground."
I half-smiled. I would have expected nothing less from him, really. "All right then, it's settled," I said,
and kissed his forehead- he doesn't like that, he thinks I'm picking on him because he's short, but I do it anyway. "You realize that the darkness in my nightmares, the beast I become, and all the blood on my hands has its origins within this man."
"Yep."
"And that if you do this, my nightmare may well become yours."
"Wouldn't have it any other way."
I touched his cheek then and just looked into his eyes-- the sky, freedom, everything I had ever wanted to protect looked back at me. "I love you as well,
Cid."
We gave our ultimatum to Cloud, who couldn't refuse at the risk of mutiny, and we made plans to leave for Midgar. The airship was tense as we flew over the city, the sky's color becoming poisoned by the pollution and the foul energy surging forth from the towering buildings. Monoliths of corruption, crossed only by the twisted compass-arrow of Sister Ray aimed for Sephiroth.
I had not been to Midgar in some time, not since first receiving my orders as a member of the Turks. In those days it had seemed claustrophobic, engines and towers,
the finest advances science could bring. Mako was harmless and cheap, people were on the verge of a new golden age. The unrest in Wutai was only hot air and blustering that would never erupt into real war. Of course I had found it uncomfortable, but Midgar, in all its chrome-polished glory, really seemed to be a beacon of hope for people who dreamed of easier lives.
But, looking at it from the deck of the Highwind, it looked like a stain on the Planet-- an oily, festering cancer full of greedy, lazy people who saw the world around them and devised new ways of bleeding it of its life and brightness for money. At the center of it,
Shinra, the beating heart of this monster; within ShinRa, there was Hojo, and if Shinra was the heart of this depravity, Hojo was its own disease.
"Pray that Jenova can secure you a place in death,
Simon," I murmured as I looked into the gaping mouth beneath me, "for left to me, my nightmare would be as a single raindrop, compared to the ocean of suffering in which I would drown you."
Morning came with its usual cheery fervor, sunlight pouring in over everything, particularly over Cid. He sleeps heavily, and, when we aren't curled up around one another, tends to spill himself over whatever he's passed out on. I try not to muse on his presence, but his sleeping face, bathed in sunlight and turning his skin and hair that soft, warm gold, makes me need to watch him for just a moment.
He is beautiful and golden, and the sunlight loves him. All is right in the world.
But, staying in bed doesn't suit me these days, so I dressed and stepped outside. The cold air felt refreshing-- the newness of fresh air and open spaces has yet to be lost on me, after being kept in that miserable box-- but the question of what to tell Cloud still had its claws sinking into my back.
Sephiroth's long, lonely journey of discovery, ending in the summoning of Meteor and, perhaps, the end of human life itself; Lucrecia's pregnancy, manipulation,
and death; the imprisonment and (perhaps most disturbing) renaming of Red XIII, the capture and murder of Aeris, and whatever bizarre things he might have done to Cloud. All these atrocities had their roots within Hojo's hands-- we had ALL suffered because of what Hojo had done, the only difference was that some of us suffered more directly than others.
The more I thought about it, the more questions I had.
"Why does Hojo obsess so much over Sephiroth's success if his goal is to destroy everything? Is it simply the influence of Jenova, or is he just insane?"
Admittedly, we had never been friends, Hojo and I. The rare times we spoke when it wasn't strictly to our respective orders, it was often along the lines of "Don't touch those samples," or "Hands off, doctor,
those are classified."
What if I had been friendlier to him, I wondered.
Hojo's was a quiet suffering, if it was ever there; he never worked well with anyone, content with his own intelligence for company. That kind of life had to have been difficult, and although I couldn't bring myself to forgive him-- there is no suffering that could justify the misery he had visited upon everyone around me-- I thought, perhaps, I could understand if I had enough time.
And, I reminded myself bitterly, I would have a very,
very long time.
But, long time or no, a man must eat to keep his strength, so I came inside for breakfast. The faint sweetness of sugar in my coffee, the creamy saltiness of butter on warm, fragrant bread; details I had taken for granted before my incarceration. Does it really take that kind of deprivation to appreciate the small miracles of mundane life? If not for the night sky,
would anyone think the stars are beautiful?
As I mused, Cid roused from his nest of blankets and greeted me with a sun-warmed embrace.
"Morning, sunshine," I said softly. "Did you sleep well, chief?"
He nodded and sat next to me. "I was thinking..."
"I'd wondered what that burning smell was," I replied.
He snorted and poured himself some tea. "I'm serious,"
he said, "I was thinking about what you said last night... I think Cloud might have a point."
My heart sank in my chest; of all people who should have understood, or at least sympathized, shouldn't it be a man whose dreams were dashed by the same hands that killed Lucrecia and imprisoned me? But I said nothing, and felt my fists tighten as he continued.
"I know you want him dead, Vincent- we all do, don't forget- but you're the only one of us who really knew him personally for more than a few days; you know first-hand what kind of shit he can do--"
"Precisely why I SHOULD go, Cid! I know all too well what he--"
"Let me finish! I said, you know what he can do, and that's gonna mess you up when it comes down to the real fight. If you go up to fight Hojo, that's more blood on your hands and more nightmares, more shit you'll have to pick up and try to put down."
Cid cast his eyes down for a minute, sat down in his chair and pulled me close to him. He put his arms around my waist and put his head against my stomach.
"Look... I know you want to get this guy, but you don't need more of his bullshit, and that's what you're gonna get if you do this... Really think about what you're doing here, okay? Sometimes it's just better to let it go."
I ran my fingers through his soft, golden hair, and took a moment to consider. He had a very good point-
would I really get closure out of participating in this?
For a long moment we were silent, each lost in our own thoughts, and again I found myself paying closer attention to Cid than the things that should have been crowding my tired mind. I couldn't fault him for worrying-- he does things that worry me, on occasion-
but I never interfere like he was doing then. I felt like he had decided what I needed without really understanding, although deep down I knew he didn't mean anything but what he'd said.
But my silence must have made him uncomfortable, and he seemed to have taken it as indignant rather than introspective.
"Vincent... look... If you say you're good to deal with this, I'll believe you, and I'll back you to the hill, just... decide what you need to do, for your own sake, and do it. I..." He stopped for a minute,
considering his words-- a rare expression, I can tell you-- and then, quietly, "Whatever you do... it won't make me love you any less."
It was the first time either of us had said it out loud. It was the first time I'd ever heard anyone say it to me, really, and I wrapped my arms tight around him. "Cid... I have to do this... Everyone I have ever loved has suffered because of him. If I can't even be there to see him meet justice, then I will have watched him live, sin, and die, without ever doing anything to stop him. I have to go, Cid."
He sighed, but he nodded, and when he finally stood up he gave me that cocksure expression he usually wore in situations like this. "All right... then I'll just tell Cloud that you and I are going with him to stomp Hojo into the ground."
I half-smiled. I would have expected nothing less from him, really. "All right then, it's settled," I said,
and kissed his forehead- he doesn't like that, he thinks I'm picking on him because he's short, but I do it anyway. "You realize that the darkness in my nightmares, the beast I become, and all the blood on my hands has its origins within this man."
"Yep."
"And that if you do this, my nightmare may well become yours."
"Wouldn't have it any other way."
I touched his cheek then and just looked into his eyes-- the sky, freedom, everything I had ever wanted to protect looked back at me. "I love you as well,
Cid."
We gave our ultimatum to Cloud, who couldn't refuse at the risk of mutiny, and we made plans to leave for Midgar. The airship was tense as we flew over the city, the sky's color becoming poisoned by the pollution and the foul energy surging forth from the towering buildings. Monoliths of corruption, crossed only by the twisted compass-arrow of Sister Ray aimed for Sephiroth.
I had not been to Midgar in some time, not since first receiving my orders as a member of the Turks. In those days it had seemed claustrophobic, engines and towers,
the finest advances science could bring. Mako was harmless and cheap, people were on the verge of a new golden age. The unrest in Wutai was only hot air and blustering that would never erupt into real war. Of course I had found it uncomfortable, but Midgar, in all its chrome-polished glory, really seemed to be a beacon of hope for people who dreamed of easier lives.
But, looking at it from the deck of the Highwind, it looked like a stain on the Planet-- an oily, festering cancer full of greedy, lazy people who saw the world around them and devised new ways of bleeding it of its life and brightness for money. At the center of it,
Shinra, the beating heart of this monster; within ShinRa, there was Hojo, and if Shinra was the heart of this depravity, Hojo was its own disease.
"Pray that Jenova can secure you a place in death,
Simon," I murmured as I looked into the gaping mouth beneath me, "for left to me, my nightmare would be as a single raindrop, compared to the ocean of suffering in which I would drown you."