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He thought he saw a light once.
It was nothing special, just some pale little glow from a place of absolutely no importance. It... interested him for a time, as he thought that as long as he paid no mind to it, to that burning flame inside of himself, it would neither grow nor dwindle; it would simply just remain. It would stay there forever and he could go on pretending that in time he would go back to the little flame, that pale and merciful glow, and build it into something much greater. But he had forgotten that things ignored often disappear, and once he finally began to remember the little flame... it was already gone to time.
He thought that glow inside of himself lost forever. That is, until he laid eyes on Cloud Strife. And suddenly the fire began to grow, as if it had always been there to begin with, had only been hiding in some distant part of his soul, buying time until something sparked it... Or someone. No, the picture wasn't enough, nor was the mention of his name. He had to see him. He had to see the reason as to why he started this fool quest to begin with.
Vincent almost wanted to thank Cloud for making him feel that primal human emotion, that feeling of... protectiveness. Strife, former ShinRa-whatever Strife, was a much needed slap in the face. And maybe that was all Vincent Valentine needed.
Perhaps his fight for his humanity was justifiable. Perhaps his fight for Tifa was as well.
There was nothing now, however; no cry from Tifa, whose lips had long ago stopped quivering, whose eyes no longer shed tears for her lost love. Her lost love was no longer the lost, nor was he the loved. Tifa stood still, as if every limb of her body had been sucked into the solid, concrete ground and held there, reminding her that something once lost and then forgotten was not such a trivial matter when found again. She couldn't just run to Cloud Strife. But it wasn't as if he could run to her, either.
He was inside one the human-sized tubes of glass, near the far back, where the glow of the florescent bulbs posed no match for the richer green lights. Maybe Cloud was the light. He was floating amidst the liquid, his blue eyes wide and watching the four characters before him. He wasn't really looking at them, however; he seemed much too far away to ever be watching anything particularly. There was a mask around his nose and mouth, evidently the only thing allowing him to breathe, and his arms were suspended a few inches from his body, like he was trying to fly away.
Vincent had never felt such a strange mixture of pity and resentment.
Professor Hojo was playing with his toys again, it seemed.
And how long had it been since he was the toy? Vincent's golden claw tapped idly against his holstered gun. Too many years of searching, too many years of pretending. Too many damn years. Vincent's red eyes roamed over the still body of Cloud Strife: he was a good looking boy, slim, with silly looking spiked hair and startling blue eyes. The bounty hunter's fingers twitched - he wanted to reach out and touch the glass tube, he wanted to shatter it and pick the boy up. For that's all he was, a boy. Just looking at him made Vincent feel decades older. But most of all, it made him realize that whatever anger he had towards this once nameless, faceless young man was misplaced. How can you blame the puppet when the puppeteer's the evil?
So where was the puppeteer?
Vincent closed his eyes once he felt the slender body next to him move, the warmth leaving him so suddenly that his flesh nearly crawled. Apparently the floor had released Tifa and she ran to her Cloud Strife with a startled gasp. He heard her balled fists slam against the thick glass of the tube and her exasperated shouts once they failed to proof useful in freeing Cloud from his encasement. There was another gasp and a smothered cry and Vincent remained with his eyes tightly shut. There was that darkness again. The fire and that feeling of protectiveness melted and dwindled and disappeared. Nothing was left in its place but that familiar emptiness. Perhaps his fight was justified, but his chance for winning was just as unreliable as before. Vincent heard voices at that moment, whether from inside his head or from the people around him, he did not know. But they were speaking all at once again, whispers of words he could not understand, and though their whispers were soft and inaudible they still buzzed around him feverously.
What were they trying to tell him?
There was the gentle humming of computers.
He thought he saw a light once...
***
Vincent opened his eyes.
Tifa was glued to the glass tube.
"Move aside, Tifa."
Tifa looked back to the owner of the voice; Vincent was standing in the same spot she had left him in, his face unmoving and his eyes grim. He wasn't asking her, nor was he giving her a valid choice, at least in her eyes. Tifa would have argued, at that moment probably would have told him to go bugger off, but her lips never parted and the words never came. Vincent had unsheathed one of his guns and was now pointing it determinedly towards Cloud's glass tube. She numbly realized what he was about to do. How could she argue with the man who was trying to free Cloud Strife?
Barret's left hand fell firmly on Tifa's shoulder and he guided her away.
"This is too easy." Cid was off to Vincent's left, leaning against one of the many electrical equipment within the room, an unlit cigarette pressed tightly between his lips. His mumbled words were meant for Vincent, but his friend never acknowledged them.
With a few quick, sharp sounds, three bullets pierced the glass of Cloud's tube; each bullet stuck in the thick glass, each crowned with thin wisps of cracks, each white vein stemming outward. Nothing followed that sharp noise, nothing save for the churning of water and the song of steady, mechanical beeps. Vincent holstered his gun patiently. The pressure of the water inside the tube would finish the job. Soon enough the white veins continued to grow, reaching out like fingers, connecting with other white veins until the front of the glass tube was nothing more than a pattern of intricate, silvery cracks. There was one last fracture, then thin lines of green liquid forced its way through and dripped down the glass.
Tifa and Barret took another step back.
There was a groan of protest, a slight pause by the tube, as if it wasn't truly sure that it wanted to break and release what it contained, then finally the glass shattered and breathed out. Actually, spit out was more appropriate. Cloud's now free body lurched forward and the force of the jerk caused the mask's line to strain and tear; the only thing holding him back from the fall was a few seconds of thin air before gravity took its course. But in the blink of everyone's human eyes Vincent was by the tube and supporting Cloud partially in his arms, the latter currently on his knees. Now on shards of broken glass, Vincent could see small blotches of red soak into the purple fabric of Cloud's already wet pants. With a hand around his waist and Cloud's arm over his shoulders, Vincent dragged him away from the broken glass. Dark red smears followed after him.
"Is he all right?" Tifa was by their side in a heartbeat, her right hand looking to help support Cloud; there really was no need, since Vincent could have very well thrown Cloud over his shoulder to carry him if he so pleased. "Cloud?"
Whether as the glass had been breaking or after, Cloud's eyelids had fallen shut and remained so.
"Is he...?" Still, even now, Tifa had no tears in her eyes. It was almost as if this situation, this final realization, had been understood for years. While she had mourned for him, while she had searched for him, something had changed. There were no more tears left for him that she could now shed.
"Unconscious," was all that passed Vincent's lips.
Tifa closed her eyes and sighed deeply. But those chocolate colored orbs snapped open once again the moment a shrill ringing cut through the stagnate air. Tifa looked around in somewhat of a daze, like she nearly expected the noise to be coming from one of the many mechanical heaps and computers in the laboratory. Strangely, she mused to herself halfheartedly, the noise sounded like the alarm bell in a clothing store...
Tifa slowly turned her head to Vincent, whose expression was more than a forewarning of what was going to happen.
It was an alarm bell.
But it was Cid who spoke first. He casually took the slender, unlit stick from out his mouth and slid it beneath the strap of his goggles. "I told you this was too damn easy..." He pushed himself off of the piece of machinery and laid his spear across his shoulder. "Vin, fight or run?"
'Fight' was the first answer that came to Vincent, but immediately after that word swept through his head like a soft breeze he rethought the possibility. Sadly, their situation was not favorable; Vincent was not only unfamiliar with this new laboratory, but he was holding a very disabled young man, which in turn hampered his ability to fight. More than likely there were plenty of ShinRa guards coming down in hordes at this very moment, and to simply lay Cloud down and forget him while they fought was not an option. The only reason any of them were here was because of him. Everything that had happened up until now was because of him. To just leave him would be brazenly saying that that everything meant nothing.
"We don't have the luxury of choice, Cid."
The ex-pilot nodded his understanding.
Barret calmly held his gun-arm up and pointed it at the closed metal door, looking back towards Vincent and the young man leaning against him. "So what the hell do we do now? We're trapped, an' something tells me they ain't gonna let us walk out."
Cid smiled wryly. "Not alive, anyway."
"Hey!"
All three men turned around simultaneously. Tifa was where the glowing green tubes were, near the back of the room, her slender fingers arched and tracing a perfectly straight crack in the wall behind the tubes. Once Vincent was there, and upon closer inspection, it was obvious to him that it wasn't just a crack, nor was it just a straight line.
"It's a door." Tifa moved away from the wall and Barret stepped up besides her.
He laid his left hand flat against the wall, then banged it with a tight fist, as if trying to assess the width. "Sounds hollow enough." Barret looked around the wall for a doorknob or some sort of access panel, like the one on the entrance to the laboratory. Finding nothing, the big man simply backed up a few steps, then rammed his shoulder into the door. The hidden exit was nowhere near as thick as the entrance, and with a good, steady kick, the door caved in and fell to the floor; the clamor was drowned out by the seemingly never-ending and shrill alarm.
"I can't stand this damned sound anymore!" Cid gritted his teeth and went in first, if only to escape the noise that filled the entire room and echoed off of the metal machinery inside, almost making it twice as loud and insufferable.
Vincent followed him, his claw still tightly around Cloud's waist, almost dangerously so. Slipping out would have been better if the door could have been closed behind them - perhaps then it would take the ShinRa guards a sufficient amount of time to find it and allow them a good head start. That, however, was impossible now. Not only was there no more door, but the doorway was wide enough and dark enough amongst the green glow to draw attention, even from the entrance. Vincent tightened his grip around the still immobile Cloud Strife, half-hoping that his claw in Strife's flesh would be enough to wake him from his stupor. Of course that alone would never be enough.
There was only one other option left, then: Split apart.
Vincent didn't like the idea, but fighting would be more of a risk to the costly body in his arms. He could see Cid in the darkness before him, and the closeness of the small passageway they were walking through. A swift look behind him and it was obvious that Barret had figured this out as well, just by stepping into it; the big man's broad shoulders were scrapping against the brick walls on either side. Much to Barret's relief, the passage gave way to another of the sewer's much wider tunnels. No longer did it have a small walkway for them to move along - the whole tunnel was submerged in a few inches of murky, green water, which they had to trudge through, half-jogging, half-walking.
Behind them, the way lit every so often by the pale light streaming in from manhole covers, Vincent could hear yelling and thumping noises pouring out from the laboratory's backdoor and sweeping into the tunnel.
One of those voices hissed like a snake.
Vincent's claw twitched.
Simple enough to give the unconscious Cloud to Barret and leave them now for his revenge. But there was a promise; Vincent had to deliver Cloud safely to the outside, back to Avalanche's hideout, back to Jessie and that little girl. Didn't he have to thank Jessie for something? Didn't he promise to show Marlene his wings? Revenge would have to wait. Soon the snake-like voice vanished and disappeared, obscured by their footsteps through murky water. Vincent stopped suddenly, the water reaching up and grabbing at his pants legs. One swift turn and the water followed after him in an unbreakable and solid wall of green.
"Vincent!"
He thought he heard Tifa's voice. So full of worry, so thick with devotion. But he wouldn't turn around.
Barret puffed and wheezed behind him. "Why are you stoppin' here!?"
There were three new tunnels in front of them, as if the eternal mist had parted suddenly and without reason, reminding them that escape was never that easy. Which way? It didn't matter; one could simply find a manhole cover and climb the metal rungs to the City of Ghosts. It would be easy enough to open it with Barret's strength. Then, which way? They could climb to the surface and find their own way from there. Who better to rummage through the city than the people who existed in it for years? Vincent turned around swiftly. But which way? He closed his eyes and started walking towards the right tunnel.
"Go the other way!" He heard himself call out to them sharply amongst the splashing of hurried feet in water. He wanted to sound just as offhand and distant as he usually did. But there was something there, a hint of emotion, a subtle and worried waver in his smooth, silky voice. Something in him wanted Tifa by his side at that moment, if only to watch her moving next to him, if only to feel the gentle warmth that always radiated from her strong body; if only just to feel what he might never feel again.
Tifa turned around and her hair fell away from her face. For the first time those persistent and chocolate colored strands never touched her cheeks; she wasn't watching Cloud Strife with those dark eyes of hers. And if Vincent had turned around to look he might have seen. Barret grabbed her arm and pulled her in the opposite direction.
He might have seen how much she loved him at that moment.
***
Why didn't he ask Tifa to go with him? Why didn't he just hand Cloud to Barret and find his revenge, for that matter? Vincent pulled Cloud's still body closer to him and his pace quickened. He knew why, he simply didn't want to face the truth. He was becoming attached to them, all of them - even to Barret. He wanted their safely and that had to come first. Barret... The big man would take good care of Tifa and Cid. More than likely he would demand that they go back to Tifa's 7th Heaven, if only for protection. He was probably telling them right now that Vincent would meet everyone there as soon as he could. Cid would argue, of course - he'd want to go back for his friend, but Barret would somehow convince the stubborn ex-pilot that it was easier this way, that Vincent would be better off by himself.
Tifa... What would Tifa do? Vincent found it hard sometimes to predict what the girl's next move would be. Would she sneak away and follow after him? Or would she listen to Barret and leave? Hell, maybe she had completely overridden Barret's idea and somehow persuaded him that looking for Vincent was a more suitable plan. Some part of Vincent actually hoped Tifa would do just that. He wanted to see her; perhaps then she could convince him to keep going. She would tell him in her beautiful, compelling way that there was something better in this bleak and ugly world, and that if he searched hard enough, if he kept fighting those damnable demons inside of himself, then perhaps he would find his salvation. Even if it never happened, even if he never fully believed it himself, he wanted to hear her speak those words one last time.
More than anything, he needed Tifa's light - her wonderful, strong light.
He wondered briefly that if this needing to be with someone actually made him stronger. Or perhaps it would once again lead to his downfall... Honestly, Vincent didn't give damn at the moment. His thoughts were still his own and his mind was still considered sane enough, no matter what else lived in there. It didn't matter anyway, for needing and wanting were two completely different things. Vincent smiled bitterly. He had almost convinced himself that he could actually be with Tifa.
What Lucrecia had once said finally made sense.
Sometimes love wasn't enough.
There was a small, cynical laugh.
Vincent's head snapped in Cloud's direction. There was only his soft, nearly hypnotic breathing. The boy was still unconscious. The laugh came again, this time sharper than before, more... precise. It took him a moment to understand where it was coming from, and he was startled once he realized that this ugly noise was coming from his own partially opened lips. Vincent shook his head, strands of his inky hair falling like blackened feathers onto Cloud's peaceful looking face. The boy neither twitched nor moaned. No word had escaped from his mouth for the whole time Vincent had been lost inside of his own mind, and from time to time the bounty hunter nearly thought of checking for Cloud's pulse just to see if he was still alive. He never once checked, however. Just as well to assume that he was alive; easy enough to pretend he wasn't dragging a dead body along with him. And he was satisfied just to pull the boy along until his own limbs ached and until he was fairly certain that his brain was banging against his skull, begging to be free. Finally, his curiosity got the better of him and he laid Cloud carefully against the wall of the tunnel. With two fingers pressed lightly against the clammy skin of his neck, Vincent checked for the thump of Cloud's heart.
Well, actually, it's not his heart directly. It's the throb of a vein, Vincent mused to himself. Just a ghost of the heart.
But nevertheless, he found a weak pulse. He was neither pleased nor relieved. In fact, he didn't particularly care anymore. Whether Cloud lived or not would matter very little if they were caught by ShinRa guards. He thought of perhaps continuing to carry Cloud, then simply decided that he was of a sufficient distance from any ShinRa employee and collapsed next to him. Why was he so tired? Vincent struggled to keep his eyelids open, those burdensome eyelids, which had at one point turned into two of the heaviest cinder blocks he had ever had the displeasure of carrying.
Maybe if you cut your eyelids off your head wouldn't be so damn heavy...
Vincent smiled. What a funny voice inside of his head. Then he remembered the small knife he still had attached to the back of his boot. He made a small noise equivalent to "Tch", then crossed his arms across his chest. "What do you know?" Vincent felt his eyelids droop further down over his eyes.
More than you. Cut them off. Now.
Vincent laughed again. What a stupid laugh. For a moment he convinced himself that it was the voice inside of his head that was laughing so ridiculously. "Go away," he mumbled.
No, you go away.
"I wish I could..." The cinder blocks completely covered his eyes now. Another small smile twitched at the corners of his lips. He saw only the darkness of the inside of his own eyelids. This was mildly amusing. Certainly it was better than lugging that spiky-headed boy around all night... Or was it day? "Who is this?"
Who?
"Yes. Who is this? Don't make me repeat myself. I hate doing that."
Silence.
"Gone so quickly?"
A snort.
You've lost your bloody mind, Valentine.
The words reminded him of something Cid would say - but it certainly wasn't his ex-pilot friend. It didn't sound like any of the four demons he was acquainted with, either. The voice was too... forceful. Forceful? Was that the correct word? Vincent's head felt like it was about to split open, as if too many thoughts were in there, assaulting him ruthlessly, and his skull couldn't possibly contain them all. Yes, forceful; that was the word. Cid... He missed that man. Where was he again? With Barret? With Tifa?
"Tifa...?"
Vincent's eyes drifted open. That wasn't his own voice, and it most definitely wasn't the one which had been speaking to him just a moment ago. For a few minutes he sat completely still, not sure whether to check to see if it was indeed Strife, or if there was a third person in the sewer with them both.
"Hmm."
Vincent quirked an eyebrow in the darkness that concealed his face. "Strife?"
Nothing.
Vincent finally turned his head to his right, and to the young man leaning against the sewer's wall, the soft blue light streaming in from above and covering the boy's pale face completely. His left eyelid twitched, then opened slowly; a brilliant blue orb coming forth in sharp contrast with a much paler light. Cloud stirred. The blue orb locked onto the dark face in front of him. His only visible eye widened.
"What...?" The one word sounded strained. There was no fright there, no alarm. There was only curiosity; it was the silent acceptance of someone who understood so only because he thought himself still asleep. It was almost as if Cloud recognized him... That was impossible, of course, since they never met before this day. Perhaps he had mistaken him for someone else? It was nothing more than the faint memory of a dreamer.
Vincent could think of nothing more fitting. "You're not dreaming, Strife."
"No, no... I'm not. It's not a dream at all. It's a nightmare."
The bounty hunter's lips lifted into a grim smile. "I know the feeling."
Cloud propped himself up further, or at least tried to. He failed twice, then settled for leaning helplessly against the wall. Helpless didn't suit Cloud Strife. The boy seemed terribly uncomfortable with being vulnerable. And at this particular moment, he was extremely vulnerable; helpless and at the mercy of a stranger - who could very well be as much his savior as his crucifier. He turned a weary eye on Vincent.
There was so much sorrow there, and Vincent had to bite his lip to keep from grimacing.
"Tifa..." he whispered. "I thought I heard her... just a moment ago." The eye looked away for a time, as if watching something of the utmost importance. Then that eye moved back to Vincent, and there it rested. The eye wanted answers.
"Tifa?" Vincent smiled. He couldn't help it; the thought of him having a conversation about her with him was simply too ludicrous and he could do nothing but grin coldly. In fact, for just a moment, he thought himself ready to break down into a fit of unsettling laughter. "Tifa's gone, Strife. She's most likely home by now..."
"Strife...?"
"That's your name, isn't it, Strife?"
"Yeah. But... how do you know it?"
"I think the question is how do you?"
Cloud watched him blankly - not so much watched as stared, completely oblivious of anything else around him. After all, Vincent's face was covered in shadows, so it was all that could be done but to stare at the nothingness that veiled the bounty hunter's face. "It's my name." He replied with such an innocent uncertainty that Vincent found himself just as amazed as bewildered. This boy was a mystery. And it wasn't the kind of mystery that Vincent felt the need, or the want, to solve. Cloud's thin eyebrows furrowed, then relaxed, as if whatever question had been troubling him suddenly found its own answer. His strange eyes became slits. "Who are you?"
"Heh." There was that pesky need to laugh again. Part of Vincent's mind sensed something terribly amiss, but he couldn't quite pinpoint it. Perhaps he really was losing his mind... "I'm your guardian angel tonight, Cloud Strife."
Cloud mumbled something that sounded nearly like "Whatever..." and those half-covered orbs of blue turned away from Vincent. He tried once again to prop himself up to his liking, this time more lazily than the forceful way he had attempted before. He looked as if he was about to drift away to sleep again.
"It would be to your benefit to stay awake," Vincent said idly.
Cloud's drooping eyelids rose up somewhat, and very hesitantly he turned his head halfway in the other's direction. "Yeah? And why's that?"
"Because I won't be carrying you again. Understood?" There was something in the way Vincent stressed that last word which made Cloud sober up.
Cloud could finally see his "rescuer's" eyes, and for a moment his breath caught in his throat. There was something hauntingly familiar there, and as his own reflection stared blankly back at him, he came to the conclusion that he didn't quite like those frighteningly beautiful red orbs. "Who are you?" he asked again, though there was less curiosity. It sounded nearly like an accusation. What Cloud could possibly be accusing him of was unknown to Vincent.
The bounty hunter's wraithlike eyes never left the boy's face. "Vincent Valentine."
Cloud's face remained with the same stony expression. "Sounds... familiar." Then the edges of his lips twitched. "Sounds... strange." He smiled queerly.
Vincent was a moment away from rolling his eyes, if ever such a moment as that would arise for him. Not only was he going funny in the head, but apparently so was Cloud Strife. Perhaps it was something in the sewer's air? Perhaps it had been that green liquid from Cloud's tube? It had touched him, as well as Cloud (actually, the latter had most likely been soaking in it for a good amount of time). Yes, that’s what it was, the green water. Vincent turned his head to the side, observing Cloud with mild curiosity. Would he have to fight him? The thought of a fight with Strife had been a possibility, once. But now? Before he ever had the chance to keep his promise to Tifa?
Perfect timing once again, Strife.
Cloud laughed.
"And what is so funny?"
"You thought you could trick me?" His smile vanished as fast as it had graced his pale, nearly blue lips. "You thought you could-?" Cloud tried to get up, then nearly toppled over and into Vincent. He finally managed a clumsy stand, his back still flat against the sewer's wall. "I'm not an idiot, Valentine. He sent you to get me, didn't he?" His once calm looking face screwed into something nearly horrifying. He laughed again, an ugly, empty laugh. His grin left his face once more. "Not again. Never again."
What did he do to you, Strife?
"Never!" Cloud lunged toward him.
Vincent easily sidestepped the awkward attack.
Messed you up, too, did he?
Vincent's hand instinctively went for his holstered gun. But it stopped, frozen, before it ever laid a finger on the hard, cold weapon. One bullet was all he needed to end everything here; one bullet would make this so much simpler and even more complicated, both at the same time. Vincent watched Cloud apathetically, unmoving. "Don't make me do this."
Cloud turned around quickly. "He won't take me again," he growled.
I'll kill the professor, Cloud. For both your sake and mine.
Vincent's fingers twitched as they hovered a few inches from his gun. It would be simple, it would be painless, it would be quick... After all, what the professor would do to Cloud would be far worse, what he already did to him was probably far worse. What the professor would do to Vincent once again -
He hesitated.
That was all Cloud needed.
He composed himself rather quickly. With a swift kick, Cloud sent Vincent back a few steps and into the sewer's wall. The force was enough to push the air out of Vincent's lungs. It was not only the force of the kick that stunned him, but the fact that such a powerful and swift action came from someone, who, just a moment ago, seemed fragile and tired. Cloud moved closer, as if he was going to do something else, but then appeared to think better of it and turned around and ran. The mist of the tunnel parted briefly and allowed Cloud passage, its thick fingers interlacing again only seconds after, hiding his retreating form completely.
Vincent stayed still for a moment more, a metal claw across his chest, then breathed in slowly. He hesitated. Damnit, he hesitated. But it wasn't only for Cloud's sake (troublesome pity), but for someone else's. He didn't wish to be the one to bring Tifa more pain. Vincent felt his fingernails dig into his palm. A thin, warm line of red trickled down his right hand.
"Damn."
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