Vincent Comes Home

Nevaeh Bluden--I have never read Angel Sanctuary. I've heard of it. But I've never seen it. I suppose if you're seeing paralells, I should pick up a copy of it. :) (by the way, people. Nev's new story about VincentxAerith is pretty cool). But I don't know anything about it. What's it about? (angels? ha. ha. ha. :)


Maron--Yay! I love Reno! Woot! More converts! Oh really? See, I don't often read Materia being much described...so I thought that would be interesting. I'm glad you like it. That makes me happy. Yay! And I always thought how weird it must feel to summon. Like, whenever you were in battle, your character actually dissappears. So they are like...one with the summon or something. And I always wondered why more people didn't have materia if you could just go out and buy it. And I thought that woudl be cool--like, if it calls to you. You have to have special training for it. SO it doesn't consume you, or something. I'll have to work on that some more. And I was hoping Cloud would turn out okay. I'd like to do another chapter from his point of view...but I'm not sure yet. *ponders, stroking invisible beard* Well, yeah, anyway, thank you for your review!

Oh! And VahlanaAngel---sorry. Yay, use the chocolate thing. I actually read it somewhere else. I've seen it referenced probably four or five times in different fanfictions by different authors. So I think it's officially Fanon now.

I Choose You Shiva-chu!

Vincent opened his eyes. There was darkness above him, below him, and to his sides. The air felt heavy. Heavy and dark. Heavy and dark. Everything felt heavy and dark.

Perhaps, he’d had another dream? No. He would have remembered those monstrousities. He could just see Lucrecia…trapped in a glass tube like that horrible monster. Like Jenova. And the child inside with his red—no, no, no…his eyes would be Mako eyes. That icy blue or surreal green. Those chilling green…

“What is this?” said a voice, husky and low.

“These look like coffins,” said another voice, this one female, softer and pleasant.

“Well, what the hell did we fight that monster for then?” said a third, this one plainly irritated. “Just for some stupid coffins?”

Something thumped on his coffin

Vincent stared at the lid. Just another dream. Just another terrible dream. You think you’ll be saved. Edward is dead.

Of course, he’d had that dream. Edward Tarshil opened his coffin with his mangled, broken fingers, blood streaming down his body. His skin, peeled away and flapping around his body, looked like raw chicken fat. One gooey gray eyeball was sliding down his cheek. You’ve killed me, Vincent, he’d said. And he’d climbed inside with Vincent and shut the lid. He could still feel mashed teeth sinking into his neck and slick, hot blood on his face and the terrible, broken fingers on his skin.

It had been so real.

When Vincent had woken, he’d gauged bloody scratches into his throat and his claw was icy cold.

He had tried hard and miserably to open the coffin that day, or night, or week, or year. But whatever spells or charms or whatever Hojo had used on the key, they were more powerful than Vincent was.

“No,” said the first voice. This one was male. “Look at these papers. It says that someone is trapped in the basement. Well, we’ve been through this whole damn place except for this room.”

“All I see are coffins,” said the third voice, with an air of sarcasm.

“You don’t suppose…,” the second, pleasant voice, trailed off.

“Well, they do have locks,” said the man.

“Locks,” laughed the third voice. “Yes, I suppose they have to keep the dead locked up. ‘Cause, you know, they may find a way to get out or something.”

“Would you shut up, Yuffie,” said the pleasant woman, suddenly sounding sharp.

“May as well give it a try,” said the man, as the one called Yuffie grumbled something.

Vincent opened and shut his eyes several times. He gauged his thigh with his claws. Wake up, he ordered himself. If he could wake up, then perhaps he wouldn’t have to see who was going to open the lid.

But alas, he couldn’t seem to wake.

He heard the sound of something metal sliding on metal. He braced himself.

The lid flew off, hitting the opposite wall with a bang.

Vincent was blinded by light. He shut his eyes and his whole body tensed, pressing against the walls of the thing that had been his resting place for…however long he had been here.

He heard a gasp.

“Holy shit,” said Yuffie, breathlessly.

“He’s alive…,” said the second voice, not seeming able to believe her eyes.

One of the three came up to the coffin, possibly to touch him.

No! No! No! I will not be tricked! Vincent leapt upwards. “You disturb my sleep!”

What a terrible dream this was: to be awakened and set free, only to be too guilt-ridden to go with them. Better to stay in a place where no one could ever find him.

Vincent lowered his eyelids to keep out the light that was piercing his skull. He glowered at them. So real…this light…

The man was staring at him. He was blond, with a mop of unruly, wild hair that stuck up all over the place. His blue-green…

Mako eyes. Vincent felt his eyes unfocus and his vision sway. He steadied himself. This man had Mako eyes. ShinRa. Hojo. Jenova.

What about the other two?

He turned. The woman who had the pleasant voice. She was a little short, with long dark brown hair. Her eyes were brown and her skin was fair. But her eyes were brown. No Mako eyes.

The last speaker, the one called Yuffie, had almost black hair and matching black eyes. She was, if anything, even smaller than the other woman. But black eyes. Dark eyes. No Mako eyes.

“My name is Cloud Strife. This is Tifa Lockhart and Yuffie Kisaragi.” And he had told him his entire story.

How surprising it had been. Someone else who was looking for Sephiroth. Sephiroth was a killer. Hojo and Shi—

“Wait. What year is it?”

Cloud and the woman, Tifa, looked at each other. Cloud told him.

Thirty years. It had been thirty years. He buried his horror at these words.

“Thirty years I have been here.” He heard Tifa gasp and he ignored her. “Thirty years I have been in this Mansion, locked in this coffin, cursed by nightmares and plagued by guilt. Leave me sleep.”

“But—“

“Leave me!” He needed to think. He needed to understand what they had told him. If only he and stopped Lucrecia, or killed her son or killed Hojo when he’d had the chance. If only—!

“What’s your name?”

Vincent stared at the man with the Mako eyes. He considered for a split-second telling him a different name. But, it had been thirty years, what difference would it make?

“Vincent Valentine. Now leave me.”

“You cou—“

“Go!”

“Jeez,” snapped Yuffie. “What an asshole.”

Vincent laid down, the lid slapped down on his coffin again. He wasn’t sure if he was dismayed or content that Cloud had removed the key, but left the coffin unlocked.

Vincent laid there for only a few more minutes. He realized he hadn’t been dreaming. Had he?

Hurriedly, he sat up, throwing aside the lid.

He was free. He hadn’t been dreaming at all. He looked at his claw and his hand and dug one of his talons into his arm. It hurt. Vincent looked around the room, blinking to secure his vision again. He felt, suddenly, as if he’d run twenty miles. He was panting cold air. Stale air, but fresher than the darkness of the coffin.

He was free.

Free from this prison, but not from your guilt. “I cannot,” he took a deep breath. His voice was a croak. He hadn’t heard it in ages except for when he might wake up, screaming. “I must…settle the score.”

He sat up and climbed out of the coffin, awkwardly putting his feet on the ground. He found, surprisingly, that they felt no different than the day Hojo had taken him from the lab. He was weak but they worked a little. The presence in the back of his mind that had made itself known that day, Chaos, had given him strength.

He gripped the side of his coffin with his claw. “Hojo lives.”

Saying the name out loud seemed to make it sink in. He was no longer asleep. He was free. He was out of his coffin. Lucrecia was dead. Sephiroth was insane. And Hojo was alive. He felt darkness come over him. “But not long. Not for long.”


Vincent opened his eyes. There was darkness above him, below him, and to his sides. The air felt heavy. Heavy and dark. Heavy and dark. Everything felt heavy and dark.

Perhaps, he’d had another dream? No. He would have remembered those monstrosities. He could just see Lucrecia…trapped in a glass tube like that horrible monster…except…no. It wasn’t Lucrecia…

It was Tifa.

With a jolt of horror, he shot up.

“Whoa, whoa, hey man, you all right?” Reno was sitting at a small writing desk. He was turning in his seat. He got up and turned on a little lamp by the bedside.

“Wassgoinon?” Yuffie was on a low couch on the other side of the room. She sat up sleepily. “Isseewake?” She blinked several times.

“Yeah, come on, Yuff. He’s awake.” Reno stretched. He sat down at the end of Vincent’s bed. “You all right?”

“Where’s Tifa?”

Reno blinked. “Tifa?”

“Where is she? Is she all right?”

“She’s all right. Don’t worry,” Yuffie supplied, padding over and sitting beside Reno.

Vincent nodded, suppressing his sudden panic. He was trembling. He raised his hands. His claw looked marred but otherwise, fine. Its blackness was shiny.

“That’s where the Jenova-Head monster got ya,” said Reno, pulling one leg over his knee. “Gripped on like an octopus. Damn bitch. You may wanna take it off. The claw, I mean. Please keep your clothes on. Not that I insinuated to your clothes in the slightest, but I don’t wanna give Yuffie ideas. But anyway, you may wanna take it off and clean it. Get that black shit off. Or whatever the fuck you do with it to keep it from rusting off. Cid didn’t know if any of that black shit had gotten into it or not. And he was so fucked up, he couldn’t stay to do it.”

Vincent looked at them, put one hand on his chest and suddenly realized he wasn’t wearing a shirt. “Is he all right?”

“Yay,” said Yuffie, in the tone of voice that clearly said that he wasn’t. “I guess. He’s just…pissed. I mean, not really mad at any of us. But Tifa is begging him to not take her back to Midgar yet and Cid went off the edge. He was yelling and screaming by the time we got to him. By then, Tifa was in tears. Reno had to wrestle him here to ask him about the claw.”

“He ordered us to change your clothes and said that you’d take care of your fucking claw when you fucking woke up. Then he left,” Reno told him. He scratched his nose. “Man was beyond pissed off. He was…just gone, man. Totally gone.”

“What about Cloud?”

Reno and Yuffie exchanged a look. Yuffie shrugged. “He seems all right. He’s still alive, anyway. But that Jenova thing got him too. Around the arms, his throat, and his face. It’s like it was trying to grab him and drag him off. It just threw shit at the rest of us. But it wanted him or something.”

“Jenova needs a new host,” Vincent muttered.

“That a possibility?” Reno looked at him sharply.

Vincent shrugged. “What happened to it?”

“The Jenova-Head monster? Well, shit. It grabbed Cloud. Barret told us that Cloud’s Materia started to react on it’s own. Like his body wanted a limit break, but Cloud’s brain couldn’t give the order. So the Materia just…activated itself. It summoned Alexander.”

Vincent raised his eyebrows and flinched when Yuffie suddenly handed him a t-shirt. He nodded to her and put it over his head. It was black.

“Well,” Reno continued. “Alexander is the legendary Holy Summon, right? It eradicated the fuck out of that thing. It was weak. It didn’t have a host or nothin’. There was all this light and shit—I’ve never seen Alexander summoned before—scared me outta my goddamn mind. I saw the Knights, the Bahamuts, Odin, Shiva, Ifrit, Hades and none of ‘em did a goddamn thing—”

“The Knights, Odin and the Bahamuts did nothing?” Vincent stared at him.

Reno shook his head. “But when that Materia activated itself and summoned Alexander. Ho’shit. I thought we were all fucked. The light went out, somebody made a few balls of flame and the thing was gone. There was no trace of it.

“Cid ordered everyone back to the ship. Cloud couldn’t even walk. He was foaming like a dog, Barret said. He was havin’ these convulsions or something. Barret put Cloud over his shoulder to carry him and he threw up all over his back.”

Yuffie swallowed. “Tifa seemed to be entirely on auto-pilot. She didn’t say anything. I think she feels guilty. She wanted us to come here so damn bad.”

“We haven’t left the Crater?”

“Oh, we’ve gone. But not far. Cid was raving by the time we reached the ship. He took one look at O’Malley and probably scared the hell out of him. So O’Malley took us to that little village—Icicle Inn. Cid’s been gone all day.”

“All day? How long have we been here?”

“Oh, only just yesterday. Cid and Barret went down to the bar last night and got drunk. Barret has been sleeping, but Cid didn’t come in. I was afraid he’d gone down the mountain like a stupid, drunk asshole—”

“Which is likely,” Reno put in.

“But O’Malley and Captain Space-Cadet-Jeremiah say to let him be. They say he’ll show up eventually.”

Vincent nodded. He touched his chest again and looked around. “Where’s my jacket?”

Yuffie smiled. “It’s right here. Tifa told us you really like chocolate. So we got you a new stash for the front pocket. We figured you’d need it for your recovery.”

“Yeah,” said Reno, rolling his eyes. “Your ‘recovery’. Sure.” He made imaginary quotation marks in the air.

Vincent nodded, giving a very small smile.

“Well, let’s go, Reno. I want a shower.”

Reno grinned, winking at Vincent. “Anything you say, sweets.”

“You need anything, just give a yell.”

“Not that we’ll hear you, but the thought is there. And someone else is bound to come.”

Reno sauntered out behind Yuffie.

Vincent pushed the covers back. Ah, he’d forgotten he’d had pajamas. Just a pair of baggy, navy blue cotton pants that had a string and elastic at the waist. He pushed away the question of who had dressed him. It didn’t matter.

He stood up gingerly, testing his legs. He seemed all right. The only thing that hurt at all was his claw. It was twitchy. He shook his arms out and walked carefully to the door. He glanced into the hallway. It was deserted.

He walked out and closed the door. He looked both ways. Uncertain as which room he might find Tifa in, he went to his left and knocked.

“Enter.”

He turned the knob. Nanaki was laying on one of two beds in the room. The other bed was occupied by Barret; who appeared to be deeply asleep. Nanaki had a bandage over one eye. He lifted his head and leapt nimbly to the floor.

“Vincent,” he murmured. “How do you feel?”

Vincent nodded in return. “All right. Your eye?”

Nanaki showed his teeth, which may have been a smile or a grimace. “Debris from something. That—well I assume Reno and Yuffie have filled you in on what happened?”

“Yes.”

“The monster attacked us with something. That black substance. It hit the wall. Debris flew into my face. I was spared one eye, but not both. I may lose it, I’m afraid.”

“A rock of some sort?”

“I suppose. I didn’t see it, as it were. But a Cure Materia activation didn’t fix it. So I may only have one eye to watch the skies.”

Vincent gave a small, sad smile. “You are taking it very well.”

Nanaki did the beast equivalent of a shrug. “It was the eye with the scar over it anyway. So it’s not as though it worked too well to begin with.”

Vincent quietly chuckled.

“So what can I do for you, Vincent?”

“I was actually looking for Tifa’s room.”

Nanaki nodded. “I assumed you would be. It’s the other way, to the right, three doors down.”

Vincent thanked him and left.

Vincent paused before he knocked on the door. Then he shook his head, swallowed his nerves and turned the knob.

Tifa looked up as soon as the door creaked open. Vincent looked at her. She was sitting on the floor with her back against her bed. She had her arms looped around her knees. Vincent slipped in the door and closed it. As soon as he turned around, he heard Tifa get up.

“Vincent,” she cried. She threw herself at him, hugging him tightly. Nonplussed for a moment, Vincent stood frozen, and then he put his arms around her.

Think of Lucrecia, dammit. But that was getting harder and harder to do lately.

“Vincent, what am I gonna do? Cid is so angry. I dunno if he’s mad at me or mad at himself or mad at Cloud or whatever! He’s—he’s—,” and she burst into sobs.

Vincent took her arm and walked her over to the bed and sat her down. “Tifa.”

She hiccupped, took a steadying breath, and looked at him. “Y-yeah?”

Vincent raised his whole hand and stroked her cheek with his thumb. “Everything is going to be fine. Cid is, most likely, not angry with you.”

“But he—“

“He is a bad-tempered man sometimes. But he loves you and Cloud like family. He’s probably as upset as you that going to the Crater didn’t work.”

Vincent suddenly realized that that was his hand stroking her face. He made to pull away, but she grabbed him, pulling his hand in to her collarbone.

“I used to be so strong,” she said. “I was tough. I was…so different. And now I’m…pathetic.”

“You’re not pathetic.”

She sniffed miserably. “Why is it that you are the only one that thinks that? You don’t pity me, you tell me as if it’s a well-known fact.”

“What do others say?”

“I never talked to them before. I have to Cloud. But he can’t….he can’t—“ She stared to cry again. “He doesn’t even see me anymore. After whatever that Jenova thing did to him. I’ve been having terrible nightmares too. About my dead mom and Aeris. But then I have these weird dreams. White lights that take—“

“Tifa,” Vincent interrupted. He pulled her to his chest. “Just calm down.”

“I told Cid,” Tifa began this time, her voice muffled from his t-shirt. “I told Cid that if he could just give me one more chance. One more place. And if it didn’t work, then we’d go home. He flipped out and started screaming at me. Saying I was crazy. But I’m not, Vincent.” She pulled back from him. “I’m not crazy. I had a dream about the Forgotten City. I really did. With all this white light. It was Holy, Vincent! That’s what killed that Jenova thing. It’ll fix him! And Cloud was rising up from the ground. He looked so peaceful. He was okay. He was fine. He was healed. Cid started screaming at me again. Told me they were just dreams. And dreams meant nothing. And—and…then…Reno showed up and made Cid go with him. And I—“

“Shhh,” Vincent murmured. “Don’t get so worked up. I’ll talk to Cid and see if we can make one stop at the Forgotten City. And if nothing is there, we’ll go home.”

Tifa looked at him with big, brown eyes. “You’ll come with us?”

Vincent hesitated. Nothing like a contract that could fuck you over later. But he put that aside. “Yes, I’ll come with you.”

“Thank you,” she squeaked, bursting into tears again and burying her face into his chest. He wrapped his arms around her again, rubbing her back. Eventually, her tears stopped, and her shoulders loosened. She took several deep breaths.

“Cloud doesn’t even recognize me anymore. I don’t think he sees anything. He just stares ahead. His eyes are all glassy.”

Vincent slipped his metal arm down her back and used his flesh hand to mesh his fingers into her hair. He felt Tifa relax completely against him. Most likely she was exhausted, both emotionally and physically. She needed someone to be there for her right now.

Vincent blinked over the top of her head. Perhaps he wasn’t the best choice. His personal feelings were beginning to become a nuisance. He blinked again. He’d just admitted…that his feelings…

He took in a short breath and clamped his mouth shut. Admitting it to himself only seemed to intensify it. He was beginning to fall for her. No. No. He already had. His body went cold.

Tifa moved against him, wrapping her arms around his chest. He tensed and then forced himself to relax.

No. No. He should leave. There’s the chance that he might enjoy being with her. She wanted Cloud. She didn’t want him.

Just like Lucrecia. She didn’t want him. She wanted another.

“Vincent, are you okay?”

He opened his eyes and pulled away to look down at her. Suddenly, he was lost for words. He swallowed hard.

She reached up and touched his face. She smiled a little. “You’re warm, Vincent.”

He certainly didn’t feel warm. Right? Well…not in his face. He blinked hard, angry with himself. This was an inappropriate time for inappropriate feelings. He knew he would never have done this. Had he been himself lately? Was he changing? He had tried to ignore it. But was he? The Vincent he remembered would have buried this.

But he found his hand rising to her face, cupping her jaw. “You are warm as well.”

She leaned into his touch, probably as desperate for human warmth as he was.

No. He could not take advantage of her.

She tipped forward, making his hand slip down to her neck. Vincent shivered. She leaned into him, laying her head on his chest. She was exhausted. Of course she was. She was tired. Emotionally strained. She didn’t really know what…

One hand stayed on his back while the other slid around to the front.

Vincent stared down at Tifa, all thoughts on what to do had deserted him. He was taunt as a bowstring. Tifa moved her face to the side, so that her right cheek rested on his chest. Such little contact did so much to him. But, as someone who never allowed anyone to touch him, this must have been natural that he would feel awkward. Of course it did. Tifa was finally relaxed. She…

“Vincent.”

He swallowed hard and looked down. She was looking at him again. She smiled, a hint of misery there. “Thank you.”

He blinked.

“Well, for…being,” she seemed to struggled with what to say. “For being there for me. For being you.” She shook her head. “I dunno how to say it. I feel so weak and pathetic sometimes. Most of the time. I just…thanks.”

He started to nod awkwardly. But then she was sitting up, kissing him on the corner of his mouth.

He stopped dead, gasping in a breath.

But then she was pulling away. “I suppose I should get some sleep.”

He came back to himself. He nodded, blinking rapidly. “Uh. Yes. Uh.” He stood up quickly. He looked at her. His mouth moved soundlessly. “I.” He swallowed again. “I. Um. Uhh.”

She smiled at him, a bit of her old mischief there. She put a finger to her lips. “Don’t tell, Cloud.” The cynical chuckle that followed was filled misery. Then she smiled, all mischief gone. “Well, not that he would notice. He never did, did he?” She looked, downcast, at the bed.

Vincent felt his shock fall away. He looked at her, open. She glanced up and then met his gaze. He went to her and wrapped her in his arms. He put all his energy into her, pressing their bodies together, sharing warmth.

When he pulled away, he stroked her cheek and he kissed her back, just once, on the corner of her mouth. He smiled sadly. “We are more alike than I thought we were, Tifa.”

She seemed taken aback by that. “What do you—?”

He put a finger over his mouth. “I won’t tell him.” He looked down and back up again. “Not if you don’t.” He gave her a solid nod and then turned, leaving without a sound.

Tifa stared at the door.

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