Beneath the Red

*thank you FullMetalBlunt for permission to use an interesting
concept ^_^! also, this chapter is kinda creepy and there are
some lines directly from Otep’s “Thots” and a few other songs
off of the album “Sevas Tra” (I highly recommend it while reading
the second portion if you like Kitty and Slipknot)*

Beneath the Red

Chapter Three
Black Secret

Cid tried to keep his head about him, despite the fact that his
feet were dangling and he could barely breathe. “Vince! Hold
up! Wait!” he choked. “I just… wanted to know!”

“Knowledge has a price, Cid,” Vincent said simply, tightening his
grip.

“You won’t kill me! You can’t!” Cid yelled, kicking. Stars from
lack of oxygen bloomed in his vision, blurring the room.

“Oh? Why is that?”

“Because… you’re… still human!” Cid managed.

Vincent eased his grip and actually looked Cid in the eye. “What… did
you just say?”

Cid gasped for the now more available air. “I saw it! I’m no shrink,
but I know somethin’ about pain! You’re still in there, I swear to fucking
god!”

Vincent released him, momentarily phased. Cid dropped, coughed and
rubbed his sore neck with one hand, the other on the floor making sure
he was on solid ground. “You’re too close,” the tall man finally said quietly.

Cid wasn’t too sure what he meant by that. He rose to his feet, grateful that
Vincent had let go when he did. “I meant what I said,” Cid said as he caught
his breath. “You wouldn’t have kept it otherwise.”

Vincent cast his gaze at him inquisitively. Cid produced the crumpled picture
of Lucretia Vincent accepted it and Cid read his eyes as they followed the
image—his face remained porcelain. He was reminiscing. “I was
going to throw this out…” he mused wistfully.

Cid was unsure what his next action should be. Now that he had an idea of
the inner-workings of this man were all about his mechanic instincts
provoked him to tinker and construct—replacing all that was wrong and sick
about him. But Vincent was a person… people aren’t so easy to fix, let
alone take apart and reassemble. The silence was starting to get awkward.

“Sorry…” Cid mumbled, turning to shuffle out with what little dignity he had left.

Vincent’s had whipped out and grabbed Cid’s arm. His grip was tight and
urgent. “You don’t understand the seriousness of what you have seen.
You can’t say anything.”

“I’m not gonna—,”

“Highwind, I’m serious.”

“I get it. You’ll do worse to me than kill me,” Cid agreed, putting his hands
up as a gesture that he didn’t intend anything malicious—and by god he didn’t,
that footage was far too intense to think about, let alone talk about. “I’m
sure you’re damn well capable of it.”

“So it comes to a threat then…” Vincent said softly.

“Frankly, I don’t blame you,” Cid said flatly.

Vincent seemed to search for words. Expression wasn’t his strong suit. “It
never used to be that way…” he finally said. “I wasn’t a monster then.”

“Never said you were,” Cid told him. “Never said you are.”

The crimson irises darted accusingly. “Are you trying to comfort me?”

Cid shrugged. “If you’re willing, I guess so. I mean—,”

“Do you honestly think it’s that easy?!” Vincent hissed. “How could you? How
could I?” He withdrew into himself again. “It would be pointless.”

Cid dug around in his pocket for a moment and fished out a gleaming yellow
orb, small enough to be easily clenched in a fist. He had kept it because
Venus Gospel had more Materia slots available than whatever Red was using.
Sense. Used on beasts and strangers it only bestowed knowledge of how
powerful they were and what element they were most closely innate to. Used
on a comrade, the sensory input was beyond telepathic.

“You don’t have to say anything, Vince,” Cid said, offering the oversized
marble. “But I’m not forcing you to do anything, got it?”

Vincent accepted it with a frown. “Get out,” he ordered quietly.

Cid didn’t need to be told twice and quickly complied. He found that his knees
had become very weak and that his heart was in his throat. He was positive
that the incident had been the most anyone had ever conversed with Vincent.
The phrase, “You’re too close,” suddenly made a whole lot of sense.

Vincent was afraid. Afraid of what Cid would find beneath the red.

**** **** **** ****

Cid awoke with a start in the dead of night. He had dreamed that it had
been him on the examination table, spread naked and helpless under a
harsh and hot laboratory lamp. Violated by needles, Mako and the cold
hard penis of an old pervert hell bent on causing him pain. He dreamed
that his door creaked open and a thousand nightmares sprang from
Vincent’s room to his, devouring him…

Wait, the door was open. He clearly remembered closing it.

He jumped nearly a foot when he realized that there was a figure sitting
on the edge of his bed. He didn’t recognize the silhouette at all until it
looked up slightly and the long strands of hair parted to reveal a pale face
and deep red eyes.

It was Vincent.

“Sweet mother-fucking Mary on ecstasy, what the FUCK is wrong
with you?!!!” Cid shrieked in alarm.

“I told you I was a monster,” Vincent whispered.

“Don’t be stupid, I … just didn’t recognize you…” Cid dismissed, regaining his
composure. “Without your cloak you’re…”

Vincent didn’t change his expression. “I’m what?”

“Ah…” Cid mumbled. “Nothin’…” You’re fuckin’ gorgeous… he was
about to say. Cid had never seen Vincent without his layers of clothing
to shield out and shun all human contact. He was wearing a silk, black
button down and his black dress pants. His face and neck were exposed—pale
and beautiful in the bare sliver of moonlight that trickled in from the
Highwind’s window. He looked skinny and vulnerable without his layers, though
his long hair that hung over his shoulders acted as his shelter in the cloak’s
absence.

Though he had experimented in his youth, Cid had considered himself strait.
Try anything once and if you don’t like it, forget it. Cid had tried and
disliked, but something in Vincent’s feline and even shy nature made him
want to reconsider, as long as it was with this sultry stranger…

What was he thinking? Vincent was here for… well… something he
was sure, but most certainly not sex…

“A freak, I know,” Vincent sighed heavily.

“You didn’t come here to beat up on yourself, did you?” Cid asked, lighting
a cigarette.

Vincent was quiet, deep within his own world. He was restlessly running his
fingers over and around the yellow Sense orb. “Don’t make me regret this…”
He tossed the orb at Cid, catching a painful glare from the moon as it arced
in the air. Cid jerked to catch it and the moment it made contact time stopped
and Vincent’s mind was sweeping over his own.

It was black and cold—an icy red blanket covering all the truth and hurt buried
deep under years of sleep and—in his eyes—repentance. “Nothing’s changed…”
Vincent’s voice coaxed. “The senate is still corrupt and the emperor remains
insane…”

The black swallowed Cid and suddenly he was very afraid. Out of nowhere
hands belonging to darkened and vague faces grabbed him from all directions
and pinned him down. Though he kicked and screamed he was utterly
helpless as they tore all his clothing off and beat him into submission. Cold
and bony fingers pried into his body from every angle and into his every orphus
violently and painfully. He found himself screaming Vincent’s exact words.

“Stop it!! Why do you….?! OH GOD!” he choked, attempting to expel the
rapist(s) vainly. Trapped within the twisted fingers of fear and rejection there
was an epitome of despair that washed over and around him quite literally,
sweeping him away into an ocean of regret.

Drowning! He was drowning! He couldn’t take a breath, what was happening??!

The tide deposited him onto an ash colored shore, where Cid gasped for air
that was cold and rank with the smell of death. He heard Vincent again,
though he wasn’t lucky enough to see the figure and be disillusioned with safety.
The voice was shattered, broken, and afraid.

“Not you… not you, not you, NOT YOU!” it cried frantically. It choked on a sob.
“There is no place to run … all the nightmares and all the monsters… all the
monsters they come alive! Okay… okay, I’m sorry Lucretia, come back inside!
I didn’t mean to shout… We can… laugh a little… die a little…”

“Vincent?” a far away voice asked. “Vincent can you hear me?”

Cid dragged himself to his hands and knees and looked up, still drenched in
mistrust. A beautiful woman was holding out her hand, offering help. Brown
ringlets of hair framed painfully bright Mako eyes and cascaded off her
shoulders. “I’m… I’m not Vincent…” Cid tried to say.

“I trust you,” she said. Her voice was distorted and sounded like an old analog
recording. She was the woman in the picture—Lucretia Cid reached up to touch
her hand, but the moment he did her skin began to shrivel and char black. She
screamed and stared at her body in terror as it spread to consume her. “I
trusted you, Vincent!!” she cried in blistering agony. She crumbled to nothing.

Is this what you dream? Cid thought in horror. This is what torments
you?

Hojo is dead but he lives in the throbbing illness of my memory… he decays
but his scars remain.

Something twisted deep within Cid’s gut, causing him to vomit a black sticky liquid
violently. His shoulders heaved weakly, then he felt them bulge. He looked at
his hands in horror—they were clawed, becoming sickly grey. The scent of blood
filled his nostrils. Kill… an instinct commanded. Kill… devour the weak…
His back tore open with a ripping torturous sensation blasting his nervous
system—releasing bloody, sticky wings.

Stop it! Stop it!! There’s no way out! Make it stop! There is no sanctuary here,
there is no escape! Get it out! Get it out, get it out, GET IT OUT!!

“VINCENT!!” Cid screamed, overwhelmed by the dread that lurked beneath
the red. He shattered into a million glass pieces, falling endlessly into a void of
hatred and grief.

Time resumed. Cid’s whole body flinched as he dropped the Sense orb as if it
burned him with a shout of surprise and pain. “Dear GOD, what the
FUCK was that shit?!!”

Vincent was still seated at the end of the bed; not a moment had passed. He was
placid, staring at some poster of a topless porn star, but not really looking at it.
“That was me,” he said quietly, retrieving the orb and exploring the smoothness
of it with the fingers of his human hand again. “Do you understand now? My punishment cannot
be expressed by meager words. You see now. I can’t possibly be human.”

Cid was making sure his heart wouldn’t explode or something. Sweat had
drenched his brow. It was a timeless split-second, and it had been the most
terrifying eternity he’d ever experienced. Vincent was far beyond repair—far beyond
anything he could ever say or do without starting from scratch.

“What could you have POSSIBLY done to deserve THAT?” Cid demanded.

“I allowed her to die. I let a madman do the same to many. It’s only fitting,”
Vincent sighed, still not looking at anything in particular. He was speaking at
last, yes, but no healing came from the words spoken. Obviously there was a
self-esteem issue if he honestly thought he deserved it… Cid decided that if
they survived Meteor that he would pick up a textbook on psychology or
something.

Cid shook his head and rubbed his throbbing temples. “I… dunno what to
say.”

Vincent got to his feet. “I didn’t think so.”

“Vince, hold up!” Cid told him. Vincent paused, but Cid lost his words. He
wanted to assure him that it couldn’t have possibly been his fault—none of it
could be! But he knew that it would be useless. What could he possibly say
to compete against the blackest pit of hell raging war behind those red pools
of pain? Vincent had his one hand on the metal bedpost, slack and ready to
sever the intense connection formed between the two of them. Cid was going
to lose him after delving so incredibly deep. Unintentional, but still there,
throbbing like a scab itching to be picked only to spew forth a slew of sickness
when the urge was at last satisfied.

Neither of them expected what Cid said. Or rather what he did. He leaned
forward and pressed their lips together, reaching out to touch his ebony
silken hair.

Vincent jerked at the action, caught off guard. Well fuck, he’s strait and
now I’m gonna get my ass kicked… Cid thought. There was a tense
moment—Vincent clenched his fist around the bedpost and closed his eyes.
Cid expected his eyebrow to start twitching in anger.

However, this was not the case. Uneasily, Vincent wrapped his arms around
Cid and deepened the contact. His breath caught and the intimacy
intensified. Cid was already hard, bringing their tongues into a feverish
pitch together, groping Vincent’s groin. Jesus, he was harder than him!
Stupid… buckle…

Vincent pulled away abruptly, with an unreadable expression. Without a
sound or an explanation he was gone, only the creak of the door evidence
that he had ever been there. That and the musty, ancient scent that
followed him—like an old spice cabinet. It lingered.

Cid found himself wondering not about why he suddenly backed down, but
about the expression on his face and why he couldn’t interpret it. Ah, he
had it. The expression wasn’t one he had seen before… because it wasn’t
one of pain. Beneath the red, some of the monsters had been quelled.


End of chapter three
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