Vincent Comes Home

Thanks for my reviews thus far---that were erased by the AFF glitch which is, now--thankfully, repaired. Woot!


Note: This part has a little piece in it concerning an old myth about the witch Lucrecia. I wish I could list a webpage to tell you more about it but I don't know of any. The myth, however, is a real one. I came upon it in my English Literature course.


Onward!


Cid stood just off the ramp of the Highwind. The famous Canyons were afire with a rosey twilight glow. A bird swooped high, cawing to the wind. Cid let the breeze brush his stubbly cheek and tried to ignore the starving sickness of worry that hovered around the edges of his consciousness.

He shoved it from his mind. Had someone let Nanaki know they were coming? Heh. Most likely not. He’d forgotten, to be honest.

He heard Jeremiah exclaiming over the beauty of the Canyon to Zet, who remained silent. Vincent stalked off the Highwind, Reno and Yuffie following. Cid looked to Vincent expectantly.

“Tifa isn’t comin—“

“Fucking—“

“She wants to stay with Cloud,” Vincent overrode him, feeling defensive.

Cid visibly bit back a reply and settled for incredibly surly.

Barret thundered down the ramp, hand-in-hand with Marlene. The juxtaposition of these two was odd. A tiny girl with such a giant of a man. Barret glared at Cid, almost daring him to comment.

Cid did not. Instead, he grumbled and started to walk away, Venus Gospel in hand.


They clustered about the main gate, where an armed guard met them.

The man’s eyes grew wide as dinner plates. “Ca—Captain Highwind,” the man stuttered, mouth dropping open.

“Is Nanaki here?”

“Uh…uh….yes. Yes. Come in, Captain. Commander Wallace. Please. Come in.”

Jeremiah gave the man a puzzled look. “What ails yeh, boy? ‘E’s jus’ a ship captain.”

The man, in return, puzzled at Jeremiah but said nothing. He led Cid and the others to the Cosmo Candle—a bonfire surrounded by logs. Here, the man waved down a young woman. He murmured to her for a moment and the woman took off at a sprint.

The man turned back to them, but instead of looking at Cid, looked at Yuffie. He seemed about to say something and then appeared to have promptly forgotten it as he stared at her.

She glared at him. Reno cleared his throat.

The man perked up. “Do you need any supplies? A place to sleep? How long will you—“

“Just food. We’re hungry,” Cid interrupted, feeling more and more aggravated by the second.

“I’ll bring you something. Please, rest here.”

“Oh, look,” said Yuffie, pointing at the logs. “Upgrades. Before we just had to sit on the ground.”

“Why can’t we go see Nanaki righ’ now?” Barret rumbled.

“Nanaki watches the Planet now,” Vincent muttered. “He may be in his observatory.”

“I don’ give a shit!”

“Nanaki does.”

“Don’t worry, Commander Wallace. Cloud ain’t gettin’ any sicker.”

Several hot glares turned on Reno. He offered no apologies. “What? You know it’s true.”

Vincent could feel the tension building around the fire. It was unpleasant, feeling as if it were going to erupt at any second. Cid seemed to feel it too. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, fumbled with it and dropped it. Several sticks dropped onto the ground. Swearing profusely, he started to pick them up. With a grin, Reno reached down to casually snatch one and would have made it if Cid hadn’t threatened to break his arm. Cid shoved them haphazardly back into the pack, saving one out. He lit it and took in a heavy pull. After that, he calmed. He stilled, except for the taping of his left leg. He finished the cigarette and crushed it to the heel of his boot. He took out another. And another. And another.

The food brought to them was hearty meat-and-potatoes sort of fair. No one complained. They simply ate. Even Barret and Cid, who weren’t hungry at all, ate merely for the benefit of their bodies.

“The stars are somethin’ else out here,” Yuffie ventured. Everyone either perked or stopped eating to look at her. She was leaning back on her hands, staring upwards. “It’s been so long since I’ve been back here…I’d nearly forgotten.”

Reno turned completely aside, so he was straddling the log he sat upon. He gave Yuffie a very thoughtful glance and then turned his face up to the stars also.

Cid stopped tapping his leg. “S’better bein’ out there among ‘em.”

“Is it?” Zet asked suddenly, chewing her bottom lip.

Cid looked at her and nodded, turning away again.

“Yeah,” Barret grumbled.

Cid looked up. “I’d like t’go back some time. See the Planets.”

“You know,” said Yuffie. “Some cultures believe other Planets are Gods.”

Cid snorted. “Funny. When we went by I didn’t see any of ‘em breathin’. Did they wink at you, Barret?”

“That’s just what they believe,” Yuffie said, shrugging. “Who are we to judge?”

Barret was the one who snorted this time. “Think tha’s th’most mature thing tha’s e’er come outta your mouth.”

“I resent that,” Yuffie huffed.

“You mean resemble,” threw in Reno.

“Shut up.”

“You interested in mythology, Yuffie?” asked Zet, shifting on the log and generally looking tense and uncomfortable.

Yuffie nodded. “Ever since I was a kid. When I went to school we learned about it. I come from Wutai, you know. We’re all big into mythology there. And when I was in ninja training we learned all about great warriors who died and were taken up into the heavens and stuff like that. Inlaid into the stars and all sorts of sappy stuff.” Yuffie smiled with the memory, leaning forward and resting her chin in her hands. “I liked the bits about wars the best. And ones with warrior women and stuff.”

“You’re so macho.”

“Fucking bite me, Reno.”

“If you insist.”

Yuffie stuck her hand in Reno’s face and pushed him away. He smiled fondly at her before settling down close beside her. Yuffie looked at Zet. “You like that kind of stuff?”

Zet nodded, glancing around at them all. “Yeah. Some of the stories are interesting. Shows where we get a lot of our modern stories. Fantasy, great heroes and stuff like that. Witches. Good versus evil.”

“Oooo,” said Yuffie, smiling evilly. “I like the ones about witches. The ones that cursed the kings and tricked lords into killing each other and stuff. Witches were mean.”

“That must be why you like them so much, huh? Kindred spirit?”

Yuffie slapped Reno’s arm. “I dunno why I put up with you.”

“You could do like Lucrecia did and turn him into a plant.”

“Lucrecia?” Yuffie asked, snapping her head up.

Everyone else, besides Jeremiah—who looked interested—had frozen.

Vincent had jerked violently at the woman’s name and stared at Zet with barely concealed surprise.

“Yeah,” Zet said, nodding. “There’s an old story about a witch named Lucrecia who…I think she lived on an island…but she had lots of lovers. And whenever she would get tired of one she’d transform him into a plant or an animal.”

“Oh,” said Yuffie, nodding but unable to keep out the tension that had suddenly come across her face.

Zet looked around, noting the sudden change in atmosphere. “What?”

“Nice job,” Cid muttered, angry at the sudden kill in conversation. He couldn’t pin down why he was so furiously agitated. Probably worried, he attempted to admit to himself. It was bleeding into frustration and anger.

“What?” Zet turned to stare at him.

Cid looked up and said, brusquely, “Nothin’ you need to concern yourself with. S’none of your business.”

Zet swiftly moved her gaze down to the ground, seething. Why did she bother? She’d only attempted to make conversation. She felt as if a dozen ice cubes had been forced down her throat her stomach had turned so cold. Abruptly, she stood up. “M’goin’ back to the ship.”

Jeremiah stared up at her, solemnly. “Aw, Zet—“

“I’ve got stuff I need to work on.”

“Yeh need t’work on some more graceful departures.”

Zet stared at him, stunned. Her mouth worked soundlessly for a moment and then an angry cloud moved in over her face. She turned on her heel and left.

Cid snorted. “Y’might wan’ t’work on yer tact next time, Jeremiah.”

The pilot blinked when Jeremiah turned his dusty blue eyes at him. “Yew migh’ consider tha’ she was merely makin’ conversation and sh’ meant no harm to yer friend, Valentine, there.”

“What?” snapped Cid, perking immediately to stare at him.

“How did you—?,” Yuffie started.

“Nanaki is ready to see you now.” The guard had returned, ready to lead them to their friend.

“Chris’. We nee’ t’check in wit ‘is secretary first?” Barret snarled, standing and moving too quickly past the guard.

They all stood and moved off, following Barret’s lead.

Vincent sat still, feeling frozen. To think her name and such an old myth would cause such a stir in him. It wasn’t necessarily at her though…more of…the thing that made him a monster.

His transformations.


It had come many days after the replacement of his arm with the claw. A process he had been mostly awake for and then passed out and, much to his relief, Hojo either didn’t—or couldn’t—wake him up again. Didn’t much prove that there was a God—but at least if there was one, it showed he was listening. Just not doing much. Oh, the story of his life, it seemed.

He supposed he should have been thankful for the little things. Like…he still had his legs and at least one arm. The thought didn’t comfort him very much…especially not in those terrible days…


Hojo dumped rubbing alcohol all over his face to wake him. Vincent’s eyes popped open, partly from the burn of the alcohol, partly from choking on the disgusting stuff. He gasped for breath while Hojo smiled at him.

“Doing well, eh? I must say, Valentine—I don’t believe I’ve ever had a specimen live as long as you. You should feel honored.”

Vincent swallowed hard, glaring at him.

“Oh, your eyes are full of hate today, aren’t they?” The smile turned sickly sweet. Vincent felt the first tinges of panic and fear and crushed them. No. No more would he baulk for this monster’s enjoyment. Hopefully, if he didn’t show Hojo fear, he’d get bored and kill him. He’d rather be dead than be in this hell any longer. The back of his head twinged painfully, so suddenly that Vincent unintentionally gasped, wincing.

“Ohhh,” said Hojo, smiling at him. “Vincent have a bit of a headache today? Would you like some medicine?”

Vincent swallowed again, feeling sweat bead on his brow mixing with the alcohol to slide down his face. He pressed the back of his head into the steel gurney, knowing he couldn’t get away and it not giving him much comfort. It seemed to be more instinct that he did it.

“Now, now, Commander Valentine. I asked you a question. You must answer to your superior. And I am your superior. Do you want some medicine?”

Vincent wasn’t certain which answer to give but was sure it would lead into today’s…agenda…no matter what he said. “No.” His voice came out as a hoarse croak.

“I don’t know why I asked you anyway,” snapped Hojo, suddenly turning angry, his smile becoming a horrible frown. “You pathetic Turks know nothing. I’m the scientist here. I am the doctor. Aren’t I, Valentine? I am the doctor. Not you.” Hojo glared at him, as if it were Vincent’s fault that he was strapped down in front of the man.

And then the smile returned. “I’m going to let you up today, Valentine.” He winked at him. “Oh, I can see by the look on your face that you don’t trust me. That’s all right. Come along, my boy.”

And Hojo set aside his clipboard and took out a little silver key. It flashed in the overhead lights as he unlocked the restraints, one at a time. First the left leg, then the right. Then his normal arm. Then his throat. Then his claw.

“Stand up, Vincent.”

Vincent was already trembling. He tried—really tried—to sit up. His arms failed him and he thumped back down. Hojo reached out a bony hand and helped him sit up. Vincent recoiled from him, gaining his balance. He closed around himself, feeling desperation setting in.

“Go on, Vincent. Stand up. Walk about.”

Breathing hard, heart racing, anticipation for what was going to happen made him sweat—mingling with the blood and stench that had been on his clothes for days…months…years….however long he’d been down here. Vincent, keeping an eye on Hojo, slid off the gurney and set his feet on the cold, tile floor. He felt his leg muscles working, trying to remember this position. Vincent glanced up and froze.

There was a mirror across the room at eye-level and Vincent could see himself. No longer did he see the robust, energetic, broad-shouldered young man he had been. He was slight and thin, aged beyond his years, gaunt and exhausted.

“Come on, boy,” Hojo snapped, suddenly slapping Vincent’s hands off the gurney.

Vincent stumbled forward and fell, legs unable to take his full weight. He tried to stand. His arm muscles gave out from under him and his legs trembled. His claw sent a vicious bolt of pain into his shoulder.

Hojo laughed.

Of course. That was it. Hojo did this on purpose. To show that even if Vincent had the chance, he wouldn’t be able to get away. He was simply proving what Vincent had known all along but had been unable to admit it to himself.

“Well, Valentine? Are you going to get up and escape? Hmm?” And Hojo kicked him in the ribs. Vincent gasped, unable to defend himself. “Planning on running away, were you? Not much good, are you? Pathetic boy.” Hojo picked up a metal rod. Where he had suddenly acquired it, Vincent didn’t know. “But don’t worry. We have a duel purpose for this session today. I want to get something out of you, Vincent.”

He raised the rod and slammed it down on Vincent’s back. He felt his skin burst. He crumpled, gasping. Blood ran down his sides. He panted for breath. The back of his head twinged painfully again. He gasped, screwing his eyes closed.

Hojo grabbed his head and shoved him onto the ground, flipping him over. He brought the rod up again, tearing into his stomach. Sweat blurred Vincent’s vision and burned his eyes. He tried to get a grip, tried to crawl away—but to no avail. Hojo stomped on his leg. Excruciating pain tore up his calf into his knee.

The back of his head ached. Vincent saw flashes….of something…a strange creature…enveloped in darkness….

He felt Hojo’s boot connect with the side of his face.

His head roared in pain. He let go.

Suddenly, strength filled him. He felt himself changing….stretching…rage seemed to curl up his toes and leap into his throat.

And then he was gone.

When he awoke, someone had changed his clothes. His ragged Turk suit was gone, replaced with black leather pants and shirt. He had been bathed. But he was, once again, locked down to the table.

What had happened?

He felt stronger, more sure of himself. He felt…different.

Hojo came again some time later. The glare he turned on Vincent was far from the usual condescending. It was full of loathing.

“I’m afraid we’ve reached a parting, Valentine. Sephiroth needs to be taken care of now. His training has already begun. What I’ve done on you worked far too well.” Hojo paced once around the gurney and then pulled a tray to himself and began opening various bottles and jars, mixing them in a small container. “Far too well,” he murmured again. “Too well for you to stay here.”

Vincent felt a rush of relief flow in him. Finally, Hojo was going to kill him.

Hojo paused, staring at him, his frown deepened. He raised a syringe, poking at it to mix the chemicals. “Don’t worry, Vincent. I’m not going to kill you. I’m good to my specimens. I rarely ever kill them. They just give out on me, you know how it is.”

Vincent felt as if lead had been dropped into his stomach. He swallowed, hard. “What are you going to do?” He tried desperately to hide the fear in his voice.

Hojo stopped poking at the syringe and let a slow smile build across his face. “I’m glad you asked that, Vincent.” He paced to the other side of the gurney. “You’ve become a bit dangerous. You’re feeling guilty about what you’ve done. You failed Lucrecia and allowed the birthing of Sephiroth—who will be great one day—he may even kill me one day.” He looked as if he relished the thought. “It would be ironic. I killed my father, seems only correct that he might do the same.” He looked down, the proud smile vanishing into the sickly sweet terror that Vincent had come to dread. “But I cannot afford to lose you. I may be able to come back and finish my experimentations on you one day. I don’t want to lose that chance. So, Valentine, I’m going to put you in stasis.”

Vincent froze, his blood going cold. “What…?” It came out as a hoarse whisper.

“Stasis, Valentine. You will sleep, until I see fit that you are awakened. I will put your body in the storage room and hide the basement key—that way, when the time is right, I can return and retrieve you.”

Vincent heard the gruff gasp of horror come out of his mouth.

“You were hoping I was going to kill you…weren’t you?” Hojo let the smile curl upwards further. “No such luck for you, Vincent.” He raised the syringe. “It will take a few moments to kick in completely, so you’ll get to see your new home before you sleep.”

He stuck the needle into Vincent’s flesh arm, slamming the liquid into him and jerking the needle out. He threw it away casually and took out that little silver, flashing, key. He unbuckled Vincent from the table.

Vincent’s legs were the first parts of him to feel odd. Cold crept up from his toes, his muscles felt like jelly. He couldn’t resist when Hojo picked him up under his arms.

“You see, Turk, that’s why I had you bathed. You secret agents have a terrible stench about you. And where I'm putting you, it would have been unbearable when it was opened again. Come along.”

Hojo drug Vincent out of the room, terror and panic embracing Vincent’s mind as the cold spread up to his knees.

Hojo dropped Vincent onto the floor and searched his pockets for the basement key. Vincent tried to crawl away but, too soon, Hojo swung the door open, turned about, and grabbed him again.

The cold reached his thighs.

Hojo stopped in the doorway, letting him look. “Coffins. Aren’t they precious, Vincent? And so fitting for you. You half-dead mongrel. This will be your new home until I come back.”

Vincent struck out at the scientist and missed. Hojo frowned, pulled the other man around and dropped him, unceremoniously, into a long, black coffin.

“I had it fitted especially for you. Just in case you died while you were in there.”

The cold reached spidery tendrils over Vincent’s hips. Vincent panted. “No…no…”

“Say no as much as you like. You’re not strong enough to escape. That little show you put on last time we met was enough for me. I’ll come back for you when I’m ready. And then,” and he tweaked Vincent’s cheek. “—we can start all over again.”

Hojo lowered Vincent’s grasping arms and leaned over. Grabbing the lid, he slammed it down.

Vincent was enveloped in darkness. And the cold spread throughout his chest.

With his remaining strength, Vincent pounded on the lid, shouting incoherently.

“Now, now, Valentine,” came Hojo’s muffled voice. “I’ll be back one day. And you really brought this on yourself, you know. When I unlock this with the basement key, you’ll reawaken. Simple as that.”

Cold fingers snatched at Vincent’s throat. His arms dropped, paralyzed. His mouth stopped moving and his eyes closed and were frozen shut.

He lied, of course.

Vincent didn’t sleep entirely.

He dreamed horrible dreams. The monsters in the back of his mind reawakened him and gave him time to think...but could not get out of the coffin. And then, irresistibly, he would be called back to sleep…

“Vincent. You comin’?” Yuffie asked him. Reno glanced at him and looked away over Yuffie’s head.

Vincent stood, nodding.

Up the winding staircases, Cid opened the door without knocking.

Nanaki was sitting on his haunches, his lit tail flailing in a smooth rhythm.

“Wow,” muttered Jeremiah. “What is tha’? Beautiful beast.” He got down on his haunches to look at Nanaki. Marlene did the same, separating from Barret to look in awe at Nanaki.

“Hello,” said the beast.

Jeremiah blinked, staring. “I’ll b’damned.” He cocked his head to the side. “Never met somethin’ like you ‘fore. What are ye?”

“A beast,” said Nanaki, giving a wolfish smile. He looked to Vincent. “It is good to see you, Vincent. Is this a new friend of yours?”

“Yes,” Vincent said, softly. “Captain Jeremiah of the Northwater.”

Nanaki began to nod, until he found Jeremiah’s rough hand scratching between his ears and Marlene putting her hand in his fur. The cat-beast froze, blinking. “Thank you,” said Nanaki and politely removed himself, seeming uncomfortable. He shook himself and sat down again. He looked at Cid. “What has brought you here?”

Vincent stepped forward and laid down the story. When he finished, Nanaki stretched, shaking himself again. “To the Crater, then. Allow me time to get things in order and I will join you presently.”

“Get yer things in order?” Cid asked.

“In the case where I would not return. Arrangements should be made.”

An uncomfortable silence settled over the room.

“Le’s get back t’the ship then,” said Cid, frowning. And he turned to head out the door.