Chapter Twenty-Five: Persistence
"I will be walking you home from now on."
Aralyn grimaced. "You don't have to, Vincent."
"I don't wish to find out what will happen if I don't."
"I don't suppose I can convince you I don't need it?" Aralyn sighed at Vincent's silence. "Thanks, then. That's very…considerate."
"Hn."
Aralyn's cheeks were still flushed. She thanked fate that Vincent had been there, but she hated being such a nuisance.
"Why did you come?" Aralyn asked.
Vincent glanced briefly at her before returning his gaze to the path before them. "You have a tendency to get into trouble."
"Oh. You noticed?"
"It would be hard not to." He was silent for a moment, but then continued. "I'm sorry about Yuffie. She didn't mean any harm."
"I know."
"Tomorrow she will watch her tongue," he promised. She saw the glint in Vincent's eye and knew that Yuffie wouldn't dare do that again. Not with him around.
"Ah…okay."
They walked to Aralyn's doorstep, and Vincent turned back. "I'll see you in the morning."
"Good evening to you too," Aralyn said, weary in body and mind.
He paused, taken aback by her courtesy, weighing her words, her connotations. "I am…not used to formal farewells. Forgive me."
Aralyn smiled tiredly, chuckling despite herself. Vincent's expression was so clueless that it was comical. "You know I'm just playing around."
"…I see…" He relaxed into his normal, stoic stance.
"How do you survive Yuffie?" she sighed, entering her home. "Good bye, until tomorrow."
Vincent walked away and Aralyn wondered if she had been a little hard on him. Shaking her head, she swiftly threw herself on her bed, falling asleep after a few moments of reminiscence of a crippled angel…
"Aralyn?"
The voice was quiet and timid. Aralyn straightened, standing from her bent position as she wiped the tables with a damp cloth. It was dark outside, and the door was propped half open. The face of a figure peered in, though she couldn't make out and features from the way the light shaded his face.
"Can I help you, sir?" she asked, walking to greet him at the door. "We're closed now but I'm sure Tifa—"
Aralyn stopped dead in her tracks, staring at the all too familiar figure before her.
It was Verian.
She backed up and opened her mouth to call for someone, but he rushed forward, explaining quickly. "Please, just let me speak with you! Five minutes, I swear!"
"Get out," she cried, dodging him when he reached for her. "I'll give you one second before…"
But Verian showed no signs of retreating. "Aralyn, listen to me. You have to come with me. You have no idea what you left behind! I don't know why your mother sent you away from me, but whatever it is, please…"
"What are you talking about?" Aralyn asked. "No. I don't even want to know. Leave."
"Don't do this Glo—Aralyn! Let me make it right! It's been so long…please just give me a chance…!"
"I don't know what you're talking about!" Aralyn cried, waving her arms in frustration. "I am not Gloria, for the last time, and you have the wrong person."
"No, Aralyn. You are the one I've been searching for these past twelve years…there can be no mistaking it."
"How is that? Isn't it a big enough world for me to look like another girl?"
"You look nothing like the infant I had the pleasure of knowing…such is to be expected."
Aralyn opened her mouth to retort but stopped, dropping the rag. He knew something of her infancy, her parents…? Verian saw that he had her attention and rapidly continued.
"You don't remember, do you? That's why you're so cold toward me…"
"I don't tend to take kindly to men who appear out of nowhere and treat me so fondly!"
"Aralyn just hear me out—"
He reached toward her, seizing her arm and pulling her closer to him. She reacted instinctively, viciously backhanding him with her free hand and struggling with all her strength. Though he did have a red, hand-shaped mark on his cheek, he did not let go. In the middle of the fray, his hand slipped toward her body and her shirt sleeve slid up, revealing her pale forearm. Thin lines of healed scars networked across her arms like spider webs. She hurriedly covered them up again, but not fast enough to hide them from Verian.
"That…that was your husband, wasn't it?" He snarled the word, his clenched fists shaking slightly. "He beats you, doesn't he?"
"N-no! He never laid a hand on me! Not…n-not until…."
"Gloria," he hissed, his anger clearly indicated that his anger was pointed elsewhere, but it frightened her nonetheless. "Tell me his name. I swear I will set things right."
"You're mad to think…"
"If you won't tell me, then I will find him another way." He turned to her and sighed deeply, reaching out and fingering her wedding ring. "You will understand. After he releases you, you will see…you will know what was to have been."
Verian turned and walked briskly out of Seventh Heaven. Aralyn sprinted after him, trying to explain and say something that would dissuade him, but he was too quick. He turned a sharp corner and when Aralyn followed, he was gone.