It was Cait Sith, for the most part, who filled Cid in on the happenings of the past few days, with some additional input from Reno and a few well timed nods courtesy of Rude.
Vincent, before too long at all, had wandered off. Presumably to lick his wounds.
Lyla had stayed long enough to remind Cait Sith of a stray detail or two, but eventually, the pounding on the inside of her skull began to get to her. She asked Cid if there was a place she could sit in quiet, and he directed her to the cabins near the bridge. She had wandered into one and slumped heavily against the bed, leaving the door open behind her so that she could still hear the faintest traces of the conversation the others were having.
"Well, fuck, you're all in some deep shit then, ain't ya? Though I guess I better count myself in," Cid grumbled, "Seeing as Vincent called me in for help an' all. Not that I ain't glad to lend a hand. Gotta say, though, weird bein' on the same side as Shinra."
Reno smiled thinly. "We do what we've gotta do, just like you."
"Well, cannae really draw lines in black 'n white anymore, can ye?" Cait Sith asked with a shrug from atop Reno's head. "Everyone's jes trying tae do what they can for th'planet these days. Nae much choice, there. -But! If ye help us, we ought tae be able tae outrace 'im! Even if we cannae outfox 'im!"
"S'true, we're all fightin' for the same thing these days," Cid reasoned aloud, leaning against the railing beside the helm, one hand still resting happily at the wheel. "Sounds like this mess is only gonna get nastier before it gets better. Y'know where we're supposed to be headin' next?"
"...Nae." Cait Sith deflated slightly, ears falling flat against his head. They shot up a moment later, however, with revelation. "Oh! But the lassie migh'! She 'ad all the papers from th'mess on 'er. We ought tae ask 'er."
"Shoulda thought t'ask her before I sent her off t'crash," Cid sighed. "Didn't realize she'd be the one t'go to. Anyone feelin' brave enough t'go ask?"
Cait Sith slipped down enough to look Reno in the eyes, upsidown.
Reno frowned up at the cat. "She's gonna hit me again."
"Ye wouldnae send me alone would ye?" He asked in a pitiful tone. "She could punt me!"
Reno narrowed one eye, wondering if there was any way he could outstare a robot. "Fine," he said. "I'll -accompany- you."
"Aye. I s'ppose tha' could be acceptable."
The redhead reached up to steady the robot atop his head. "Alright," he sighed heavily, "Let's go." Leaving Rufus and Rude in the company of the captain, he headed in the same direction Cid had pointed Lyla just a little while earlier.
"You'd think it was the final march for both of you." Vincent's voice came from behind them in the far corridor. He was leaning just inside the door, most of the weight on his left foot, arms folded across his chest.
Reno frowned again. "Because she's going to -hit me.-"
"I'm too young tae be tossed off an airship." Cait Sith added, holding his small crown against his chest.
The ex-terrorist watched them for a beat before pushing off the wall, passing them in three long strides. "Go on." He rasped. "Let me."
"Someday," Reno feigned swooning as he turned to walk back towards the bridge, "I'll be brave enough to tell Vincent he's my hero."
"Aye." Cait Sith said cheerfully, perching atop his head again. "We can make the laddie a card."
He paused outside the door, leaning in rather than taking another step. "You're awake." the shapeshifter observed.
She shifted just enough to glance up at him over her shoulder, eyes just barely peeking up over the edge of her arm as she remained sprawled on her stomach. The bed wasn't the most comfortable, but it was serving its purpose just fine. "My skull is throbbing too much to sleep. I just wanted some quiet," she told him.
"We need a heading." He said evenly. "If you have one in mind. Give me that, and I can let you be."
"... Junon," she said after a moment of extended silence. "... he said something about a Project Prometheus. I don't know anything about it, but my... father will. Most likely. Be able to give us some direction."
"Alright." He nodded, turning to go, but paused, hand on the door. "I'll see what Cid has for a headache."
She may have smiled faintly behind her arm, though perhaps only her sleeve would ever know. "You're coming back, then? ... thank you."
He nodded, the sound of his footsteps lingering long after his figure faded from view.
It was 15 minutes before he returned, offering her two little white pills from his human hand. There was water in the other, though he passed it into flesh fingers before holding it out towards her.
She carefully pushed herself up into a seated position, gingerly taking the pills and water from him one after the other, setting the glass aside when she was finished. "Thanks," she said again, attempting a grateful smile and failing miserably, only managing a frown instead.
"How ironic," she said finally, after a few more moments of silence.
Vincent arched a brow, waiting to see if the gesture would yield an explanation without having to speak.
"... all those years studying it like I was on the outside. And then I find out I'm not. I'm right in the middle."
"Yes." He agreed quietly, hesitating before he sat beside her, perching on the edge of the bed. "And no."
"No?" she echoed, glancing upwards.
"What has changed?"
"Nothing has changed. I know that." She looked downwards, forehead creased. "Where I come from is different, but that doesn't change who I am. I'm still myself. My father has some things to explain to me, but it will be fine. ... I was wrong about Dr. Ingram, but I'm not wrong about my father. I can't be. I can be angry, but I know he would have done what he thought was best. So nothing has changed. ... I like to think I'm a reasonable person."
A lengthy pause followed, and she forced herself to look at him again, truly distressed for the first time since they had met in Ingram's office, rather than the irate he had undoubtedly become used to. "I have nothing to be sad about. So why does it still ache so badly inside? I feel sick and empty."
He looked back at her for a long moment, then down at the claw in his lap. Flexing the fingers slowly. When Vincent spoke, it was quieter than before. Low, and even. "You want to know if you're still a human being." He said at last, "If your heart beat means you have a soul."
"Yes," she said softly, her own voice barely above a whisper. "... or did I just imagine one for myself?"
He watched her from his strange eyes, sitting back to the soft hiss of leather and fabric. "The manticore." he said after a moment, the odd rasp faltering in his voice.
"The manticore?" she echoed, watching him in turn, blue eyes following as he leaned back.
He took a breath, shoulders shifting as though it were necessary to brace himself for too much talking.
"The manticore traveled to the pillar of knowledge, desperate to know if a beast with the face of a man could possess a soul. He sought an answer among the ancients, in the vast knowledge of the planet's heart. ...Eventually, finding no source that he could trust... no answer to soothe his troubled mind... he gave up his search. It was ... there. Where he settled in wait to die... that a child happened on him." He paused, uncertain. Hesitant to continue.
She gave him a curious look then. "... what happened?" she asked finally.
"...The child asked the beast what troubled it. And when it answered... he laughed." Vincent looked down at his hands. "Don't you know... he said. That only things... with souls to worry... worry if they have one, or not."
"... thank you," she told him again, after another long pause. "... that helps. Doesn't make the feeling go away, not yet, but... helps, some."
He nodded, glancing back at her over his arm.
"Did you wonder the same thing?" she asked hesitantly. "... I suppose it's different, isn't it."
"I wondered." He said after a beat. "But only briefly." He hesitated for another beat. "There is no guilt, without a soul to bear it."
"You're right, of course. ... makes feeling upset seem silly. Being sad is... pointless. But maybe that's not it. I just feel... strange."
Vincent looked up at her. "Do you laugh?" He asked evenly.
She blinked a few times before looking back to meet his eyes. "Not so much, lately," she admitted, more honestly than she cared to say. "But I have. I can. And will again, I'm sure."
"Why."
"Why? Why does anyone?"
He waited patiently for an answer, gaze never flickering.
"To be honest, I'm not sure how to answer. It's not something you decide to do," she began carefully. "People just do. ... part of being human. Is that the answer you were looking for? It's the only one I have."
"Sadness is the same."
"... you feel it because it's part of being alive," she conceded. "... do you laugh?"
"Not in a long time."
"It shows."
Her companion nodded. If this information surprised him, he was a master at concealing it.
"Do you ever plan to again?" she asked, watching him carefully. "Or will you stay unhappy because of something that wasn't your fault, something that was done to you?" She paused, frowning slightly. "... I was betrayed by someone I trusted. It hurts. But I can't imagine never laughing again."
"I don't blame myself for what wasn't my fault." He murmured.
"It's not my business. If a situation ever arises where you deem it appropriate, maybe you should try to smile. Just a little bit."
Vincent considered that for a moment. "You've seen that, already, haven't you?"
The faintest hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. "I thought I might have hallucinated it. It's hard to tell. You keep your mouth covered."
"Adds to the mystery." He told her in a deadpan.
"You have a pretty good handle on that part."
"Practice."
She smiled at him in reply, more genuinely than those before it, though with a certain degree of weariness. "I feel better. ... I didn't think that would happen so quickly."
Vincent watched her for a moment, his expression still placid and closed. Though there seemed to be the barest edge of 'at a loss' around its edges.
"I won't tell any of the others," she informed him when he chose silence as his response. "Wouldn't want to detract from the mystery."
"That's two you have on me." He noted, rising carefully to his feet.
"You'll get one on me eventually, if we work together long enough," she offered.
"I'll look forward to evening the field." He murmured, offering her a nod that was almost a bow.
She smiled again, nodding back in turn, scooting back onto the bed enough that she faced the door. "We'll see, then."
Vincent nodded. "Try to rest. We'll be in Junon soon."
"I fully expect the confrontation there will not end with you wounded, at least."
"We'll see." He echoed her statement of a moment before. "I'm better at that than you think."
She smiled again. "If my father stabs anyone, it will probably be Reno."
"We'll let him lead, then." Vincent said simply. And then he was gone.