4: Baby Birds: And Then There were Two…
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I awoke early that morning, surprised to see Sephiroth still fast asleep next to me. Between the two of us, he was early to bed and early to rise. That military breeding. But not today. As usual, he had an arm flung over me; no matter if he was awake or not, he managed that dominating air to every end he could. I was never flattered so much as bothered. Flattered and bothered; though my reasons were never good enough to make the man see any other way. With a huff and shove, I crawled and parked myself on the edge of the bed, stretching, yawning, groaning. Through the curtains of our large, single bedroom window, I could see that sunlight had just begun to shine.
I stood up.
"Where are you going?"
I jumped at the sound of his voice. It almost seemed to come out of nowhere.
"I don't have to tell you... You should know my routine by now, anyways," I sighed. "I'm just going for a shower."
"Wake me for breakfast," he said.
"... ugh." I stared at him for the longest time after he closed his eyes. A glimmer of something flashed before my face. It fought, it writhed and finally died back beneath his skin. As if he knew I was still standing there, staring too hard for my own good, Sephiroth turned over on his side, facing away from me. I surrendered to the confusion and pondered it.
Some shadow cried for freedom on the surface. What it was I hadn't a clue. But it was something that Sephiroth kept buried inside, a feisty little thing that he'd allow to scratch briefly under his skin then smother back down into his darker recesses. It'd happened before, in quiet moments like this. Was it content? Discontent? Loneliness, anger? I sighed inwardly and began my march to the bathroom.
--
After a good fifteen minutes, I hopped out of the shower and into some clothes, feeling verily refreshed. I went straightaway to the kitchen, and commenced cooking up some hot cereal on the stove. I made a quick run back to the bedroom, gave the gray-headed sleeper a vigorous poke and ran back. I whipped two bowls out of the cabinet and spun them onto the tabletop with a zest I thought I wouldn't have today.
Sephiroth had slipped silently into the kitchen while I prepared breakfast.
"Nice to see you up," I said.
"Mm," he sounded, straightening out his loose, drawstring pants. I was glad they left something to the imagination— even though I'd seen it all already...
"Take your pick, and there's more in the pot," I pointed out.
He took a seat, grabbed a bowl and a spoon I set aside, and tucked diligently into the hot cereal. I sat down across from him, with my own bowl and spoon.
"So, what's on today's agenda?" I asked Sephiroth.
"I don't have any specific plans," he answered. "Do you?"
"Um well… I'm not sure yet."
"You're not thinking of going to town, are you?"
"I'm not sure yet."
"I will be staying here for the day," he decided to say. "I need a break."
"Break from what?" I wondered aloud, gazing. "What do you do when you go out?"
"What?"
I spooned some cereal into my mouth, savoring the taste a little bit. "What do you do? Do you shop? Do you browse? Do you talk to people?"
"You know what I do." He took a bite, too.
"Hardly. Tell me."
"Why are you suddenly so curious?"
"Because, I am curious. And you're too mysterious."
"Just listen to my mind, like I listen to yours," he explained. "Though it's more unwelcome than it is welcome."
"I-I'm not…"
"Strong enough?" Sephiroth laughed musingly. "Do you know what I hear from you every so often? Always whispering, Drana, always wishing…"
I drew back in my chair, blushing what I could only assume was a hot apple red. How shameful that I'd forget he could hear my thoughts no matter the place, time of day, or any of that. He would know what made me happy, he would know what made me sad, and he of course knew what made me ill at ease. My hopes. My dreams. I took a deep breath and held it in.
"Strength. Whispering and wishing for strength. To be stronger than me." He snickered.
"I guess I'm not trying, huh," I conceded. "I'm not trying to do a lot of things."
"Books," he said abruptly. I looked up at him from my cereal.
"Huh? Books? What about books?"
"First and foremost, I am a soldier. But ever since childhood, I've always been... of a bookish sort." His human eyes fell thoughtfully into his cereal as he swirled his spoon around and around. The swirling made me nervous. It wasn't one of his normal habits, for lack of a better word. They often came out of nowhere, but mostly preceded little moments like these in confidence. Either way, my heart fluttered in the wake of his movements and voice. "Books. In my spare time, I've been searching for a few."
"By the pile building up next to the bed, I could have figured that out myself," I said in a considerate pout.
"It pays to be attentive to your surroundings. This is why I always stress that you stay away from towns. Because you haven't learned most of the basics, yet. Or not that well if otherwise."
"I can't learn if I'm not in the right environment," I grumbled.
"You love to resist me, don't you?" Sephiroth grinned menacingly.
"You're just not a good teacher," I shrugged. "Remember, you forsook your humanity, so you're right back to the basics, too."
He fell silent.
"Bingo," I chirped victoriously. "We both have growing up to do. But that doesn't mean we can't both teach and learn from each other. You're still a bad teacher, though."
"You're a slow learner," he retorted, "with your head always stuck in the clouds…"
"I resent that."
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Vincent stood in the crumbling foyer of Shinra Mansion, with a sorely visible scowl on his face. So many memories lingered here in this mass of wood, metal and stone, virtually all of them being the nastiest sort. But he had to learn to cope, stand his ground, conquer and embrace it all. This resolve arose with the agreement to restore and refurbish the mansion into a brand new branch of the WRO. He wanted to wipe the whole slate clean and start anew.
"Hiyaa!"
A shout resonated throughout the decadent depths of the mansion and cut through Vincent's ears with the keenness of a hawk's screech. He identified the call as Tifa's, as she roamed the upper floor taking care of usual business. Or perhaps not. He'd taken a few steps toward the right staircase, just before the woman herself came strolling onto the mezzanine above. His eyes spotted a faint edginess to her frame, to her hands as they gripped the railing.
"What-"
"Don't worry, Vincent, it was nothing," she called down to him.
"What was nothing?" he asked reflexively.
"I thought we cleaned out all the monsters down in the basement," she explained, holding up a finger as she went. "But one more managed to wander up here. Took me by surprise. I got rid of it, though…"
"But?"
"I kind of made a mess. Mind lending a hand?"
Several WRO volunteer workers appeared from the rear bowels of the mansion, carrying boxes and rolling wheelbarrows full of trash and salvaged materials. Vincent motioned to one who seemed to be carrying the least, but Tifa deftly leapt down the distance to her companion and snapped up his arm to stop him, if not for a bit of support after a jump like that.
"Hey, you're not inept," she motioned, smirking.
"I-"
"Come on." With an intensely big smile on her face, she led the quiet man upstairs and back to the scene where she dispatched the stray monster. They turned sharply through the east and north hallways to the room at the very end, urging Tifa to pinch her nostrils as soon as they came to the doorway.
"Oh wow, it's beginning to reek already." She looked at Vincent, who managed to maintain that same state of detachment, even though the slight furrow to his brow spoke that he was bothered by it as well.
"You really did a number on this thing," he said, finally. He approached the small, lopsided corpse propped haphazardly against the far wall. A Dorky Face. Putrid jellied juices leaked from its pumpkin of a skull and bubbled on the floor. He nodded at the handiwork that did it in. Part of the head caved in to the shape of a U, a sign of death by heel drop most ruthless and precise. "I'm a little intimidated."
"Well, I…" Tifa blushed, trying to hide it with a hand over her nose and mouth.
"Alright, I'll fetch a bag for the body." The black-haired man cleared his throat and twisted on his heels for the doorway.
"Oh, let's go together. I'll get the disinfectants, too." Without thinking, Tifa hooked her arm through Vincent's. He stopped dead in his tracks and stared at the woman as if she grew another head. She blushed brighter this time, and his spotting it was unavoidable. She knew that Vincent was rarely one for friendly contact, at least when and where it wasn't necessary. With his arm released, both stepped about two feet back from each other. Tifa fumbled with her hair in the meantime, eyes arcing across the ceiling. "Sorry, I know... how you are with the whole touching thing... I think."
Vincent said nothing, which led to a desire to quickly sweat all the sudden tension away. It nipped angrily at her nerves and she wanted it to stop. Deep down, the woman was irked. Around Cloud, around Barret and Cid, even Nanaki, she knew how to conduct herself. But Vincent occupied a whole other tier of personage. Thankfully, she understood his situation. He had been subject to horrible experiments in the past. She was sure that anybody would shun the contact of others after living nightmares like that. Just like she when her mother died. This was no different.
"What is it?" Vincent voiced, managing to pierce the veil that hung over Tifa's mind. She shook her head rapidly in confusion.
"Oh nothing, um, uh... Just thinking about the others. And Cloud."
A smile.
But it was no match for her companion's keen, deep brownish red eyes. They bore holes into her skin for the briefest second, succeeding in ripping a flinch from her.
"Very well."
The pair returned to the first floor of the mansion. Piles of tools towered over the left side of the double doors in the foyer, tools brought in by the workers and stuff fished out of Tifa's old house down the hill. A pair of markedly young men congregated at the pile but fell into a hush at the sight of their supervisors. Their postures went rigid in salute and hurried on to do more work. Though many things needed hauling out of the building, only a handful of WRO workers were summoned. Another troupe would come in later to perform the bulk of the renovations.
After grabbing what they needed, Vincent and Tifa sauntered back up to the second floor. The corpse was bagged and the floor was sprayed and scrubbed down. Although, the precaution was needless in the long run, monsters carried disease just like rats. Getting sick while on the job would only slow things down.
"I'll go take this out back," Vincent said and disappeared down the hall.
Tifa took a seat in the hall, away from the antiseptic fumes and lingering stench of monster juice. As she slumped against the wall, she slipped out of her gloves and slapped them into a tiny heap a little more than a foot away.
"Where the heck is Cid?" she grumbled to herself. The day before, she had called on him to help with the mansion's restoration, and he agreed to lend a hand. Today would be the day he'd first enter the development. But over two hours had passed since his scheduled arrival. "So much for dependable…"
Tifa looked over the walls with their peeling paint and molding wood. Most of them needed to be stripped to the frame, she mused. All the decomposing furniture had to be thrown out. No one yet dared touch the scientific stuff that lay stocked in several of the upper floor rooms. An entirely different task force was set aside to handle all the shady equipment up here and down in the basement. A lot was to be done, but the deadline was reasonable. Not only that but the WRO's workforce was easily replenishable, so fresh new faces when the others got old meant a quick but steady pace that would get things done on time.
Something clicked to mind.
Vincent wanted the old piano to stay behind. Tifa hadn't asked why but accepted it. But later, she would be sure to question him on it.
Some ten or so minutes later, her companion returned. She jumped to her feet, sweeping the clingy dust from the seat of her overalls.
"Everything good?" she asked.
"Everything's good," he answered.
"Alright, now on to other business. Now while the other guys are still hauling trash out, we can take a lil initiative and start ripping through these walls. Is that fine with you?"
Vincent's eyes had wandered off elsewhere, and it couldn't have had more inappropriate timing. With arms crossed and head slightly tilted, he stood deathly still in the opposite direction. Tifa sidled up next to him, trying to follow his far-off gaze. Ceiling. That was about it. She then thrust a hand into his face, breaking his attention and wresting it back upon herself.
"Planet to Vincent," she said. "What was that?"
"What was what?"
"You zoned out."
"Oh," he replied simply enough. "I was just remembering some things. You know. This mansion…"
"Oh… Well, you don't have to stay if you don't want to. I can-"
"I'm alright."
"Okay, then let's hop to it, if you're able."
"I'm able." Although, his posture betrayed his words. Something insisted on preoccupying the man. His eyes fell half-closed as Tifa urged him to their next order of business, and he was only half as responsive. As she feared, their surroundings were getting to him. He did volunteer, but his behavior as it turned out to be now showed he was in no position to be doing any real work here. A nagging itch told her to ask but she relented. In time, he'd either get with the program or be forced to head home early. Wherever that was. No one was ever absolutely sure.
Tifa left for a moment to fetch some hammers. When she returned, she found Vincent seated in a chair in the room where the monster was killed. Heeding her presence, he rose to his feet and adjusted his clothes. He spotted the quirked eyebrow that greeted him, to which he said, "What?"
"All of a sudden, you're acting strange," the woman noted with a suspicious tone. "Did you notice or... what?"
"I'm sorry, Tifa. I'll admit something's on my mind right now."
"Wanna talk about it?"
"I... don't know. Could I really confide in you?"
Tifa simultaneously jerked back in a laugh and a scoff. "Are you serious? How long have you known me? Three years, tops? Give or take a month or four. Don't forget, I'm a bartender; you won't believe the amount of people who confide in me. I think I can handle one more, even if it's you."
"Point taken," Vincent said with a roll of his eyes.
"Alright!" she exclaimed, grabbing a crate and slamming it down in front of her. The woman seated herself thusly and gestured for her company to do the same. "So, what's on your mind?"
"It's... about Drana."
"Drana? Oh, her. What about her?"
"... I can't really say. It's hard to explain."
"Ahhh, I get it now," Tifa chuckled softly. "This happens to lots of guys, Vince. I'm not sure what to classify her as, though. Forbidden fruit? Or just a hard catch? She reminds me too much of Aerith, though. Be careful if Cloud gets interested, too. That'll be a battle for the history books…"
"Uh... no."
"No?" She was shocked.
"Like I said, it's hard to explain."
"Well... drop me a bone here," she sighed. "I can't read your mind."
"I know that," he replied. "It's just that... when we met in town, seeing her reminded me of Lucrecia."
"Why's that? Is it because you see Sephiroth in her face? And he's her son?"
"That might be part of it… But it's more like, I see Lucrecia directly in Drana's face. I find it unsettling. I wasn't expecting this after I asked her for help back then…" Vincent fell into the deepest silence, deliberating on past events, current notions, and future deductions. He was more than just unsettled. He was rattled to the core, and having Tifa stare at him with those big brown eyes only served to instill more discomfort.
"Hey, Vince… Did something happen?"
"… I think that's enough for one day. Let's get back to work."
--
From Sixth: Holy cluster fuck. Looking back at the original, I can't believe I ever bothered to post that mess. It was like I didn't know the meaning of spellcheck and proofread when I first typed it up. I think the Blackadder font had something to do with it… So pretty but… illegible half the time.