Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Final Fantasy VII; Second Generation ❯ Chapter 13 ( Chapter 13 )

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Vincent lays flat on his back on top of the king-size bed of his room, the pleasantly warm numbness from his shower and the feathery-softness of the blankets & mattress helping his mood as he grins to himself, while for the first time in awhile he allows himself to fully relax and let's the tension melt away. His eyes slowly flutter close, his breathing steadily evens-out until he drifts off into the twilight of his dream-world, spread out on the bed in just his black sweat-pants.

 

In his dream, Vincent finds himself chained to a wall, he felt cold and his lungs burned with every breath he took. He could feel a hand slowly start to trace his chest, stopping when it reaches the slightly raised star-burst shaped scar with sunken center near the bottom of his ribs; the awful reminder of the wound that stole his life, then another hand begins to touch his left-forearm, he could feel the flesh being slowly cut open and his warm-blood pouring down his arm, and when he tried to scream out in pain, a fist smashes against the side of his face so hard that he could hear and feel the bones in his jaw shatter; instantly silencing him.

 

“I've grown tired of you screams…”, a high-pitched male's voice hisses into his ear.

 

The pain from his broken-jaw and the fear of what was going to happen next causes tears to stream down his cheeks, as the hand traces his ribs to the gun-shot scar then started to descend lower.

 

Vincent's blood-red eyes fly open, as he gasps for air, only to feel someone's hand physically touching his chest, that he quickly grabs them and pins them to the bed with their hands above their head as he glares down at them.

 

A pair of startled reddish-brown eyes stare back up at him, long mid-night onyx-black hair pooled around his captive's head on the red-silk sheets, the pinned person was gasping for breath from the shock of suddenly being pinned down.

 

“V-Vincent…?”, a female's voice hesitantly whispers from behind thin light pink lips, fear completely audible in the voice.

 

As the fear slowly evaporated from his mind, his vision began to clear until he could see the terror-stricken face of who he was pinning to the bed, the face that belonged to both the woman he loves; Lucrecia, and Yoko.

 

“Y-Yoko…”, he gasps, as she continued to stare up at him with fear plastered on her face, the look was one of someone fearing a monster.

 

Suddenly, Yoko's face becomes bright-red; including her ears, and she screams, slapping him across the face. But it was to be expected, he had startled her and pinned her down in a very embarrassing position.

 

“S-sorry…”, he stammers, releasing her wrists and rolls over to the side to sit on the bed, allowing her to sit up.

 

Yoko's face was still beet-red as she sat up, clutching the edges of her robe together, as she trembled from the fear and adrenaline coursing through her veins. He could see her fighting the urge to hug her knees up to her chest, now he really felt like a monster for scaring the one person who was helping him with his `demons'.

 

“Yoko… I'm sorry…”, he mutters, reaching out to gently touch her shoulder, only to have her shy away from his hand, “I'm so sorry…”

 

“Your nightmare…?”, she whispers.

 

“Huh?”

 

“Your nightmare…? Have you completely awoken from it…?”, she quietly asks.

 

“Yes and no…”, he replies, “Dream-wise, yes... Physically, no…”

 

“The only reason I came in here was because I heard you cry out in your sleep, then silence so I came to check on you…”, she states, answering the question he was about to ask, “I was going to leave after I saw you were alright, but the scar on your chest caught my attention so I came closer to examine it… The rest you know…”

 

“I'm sorry for frightening you, Yoko…”, he apologizes, “I thought I was back in that dark cellar being…being…”, he couldn't finish his sentence, the fear of if he admitted to himself; out-loud, that it had happened to him that the next time the nightmare plagued him, he wouldn't be able to wake himself up before he relived the most humiliating moment in his life.

 

“Mentally and physically tormented…?”, Yoko says, putting simpler terms to his dilemma, “Emphasis on physical, right?”

 

“Yeah…”

 

Suddenly, Vincent feels warm arms wrap themselves around his shoulders from behind, as Yoko hugs him and rests her head on his shoulder, “It's never easy to forget the nightmares that plague us, am I right…?”, she mutters into his ear, as her hair intermingled with his and with no distinction between the two.

 

“That is a nasty wound on your arm, Vincent”, Yoko states, grabbing hold of his left-arm and pulls it to rest on her lap, lightly touching the 4-inch gash along the top of his fore-arm that was oozing green-pus, “I thought you said your injuries heal quickly, yet this one is still open and infected…”

 

“My wounds do heal, expect this one…”, he replies, cradling his left-arm in his right, “It starts to heal, then it stops and reopens… I've been keeping it clean, but it continues to get infected… Not even Materias work…”

 

“Do you want me to try to heal it with my power?”

 

“At this point I've given up trying on making it heal…”

 

“But I haven't…”, she smirks, “Come on!”, she explains, dragging him off of the bed and into the bathroom, “First I have to wash the wound first, to get rid of all the pus”.

 

He watches as she wets a face-cloth under the hottest-temperature of water she could stand and gently starts wiping the pus from the wound, he was so astonished by her care in cleaning the wound that he didn't even feel any pain. He then sees her put the cloth down onto the counter and hold her hands over the gash, closing her eyes in concentration as they started to glow golden-yellow.

 

“Man, this is a tough one…”, she comments, concentrating harder to focus the energy as sweat beads on her fore-head, but her added effort was working as the wound slowly; inch-by-merest inch, was healing.

 

“Yoko… Stop…!”, he shouts, when he sees her struggling.

 

“I've almost got it…”, she grinds out from behind clenched teeth.

 

“I said stop…!”, Vincent worriedly demands.

 

Yoko suddenly relaxes with a grunt, her eyes flying open to reveal her pupils dilated and her eyes glazed over as she falls forwards, only to be caught in Vincent's arms as she fell.

 

“Yoko…?”, he whispers.

 

“I-I'm fine…”, she pants, exhaustion from her straining clearly evident on her face and in her voice.

 

“No, you're not… You could have killed yourself trying…”, he earnestly says.

 

“But I didn't…”, she mutters, “And your wound is completely healed…”

 

“Huh…?”, he gasps, looking down at his arm to find the wound no longer there, but a clear fluid sat onto top of his arm where the wound had been, “What is…?”

 

“That fluid is a chemical that wasn't allowing your wound to heal, I had to remove it from your body before I could heal it…”, she explains, “That is why I had to work so hard…”, she adds, taking the face-cloth and wipes the fluid from his arm.

 

“You didn't have to do that for me…”, he whispers.

 

“Of course I had to, that's what friends do… Help each-other…”, she weakly smiles, as her reddish-brown eyes slowly drifting closed.

 

“If you're this tired, you should be in bed”

 

“That sounds… like a…good…idea…”, she trails off as she slips into unconsciousness.

 

“Good night, Yoko…”, he quietly says, laying her down on her bed and pulls the covers over her.

 

 

 

 

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-The Next Day-

 

 

 

The sound of beautiful violin music echoed off the walls in all the rooms of the hotal-suite as Vincent's crimson-eyes slowly blinks open against the morning sunlight.

 

“Where is that music coming from?”, he mutters, as he sits up and slowly climbs out of bed, following the music to the other bedroom.

 

The sight he saw was Yoko standing in her room in just a white silk-nightgown with her eyes closed as she played her violin in the morning-light, the bow gracefully dancing over the strings. Even as the song took on a darker tone the music was still beautiful, so beautiful that when she finished playing he applauded her.

 

Yoko's eyes snaps open and she quickly goes rigid, “Vincent… Did I wake you?”, she asks, looking at him.

 

“No, you didn't”, he shakes his head, “That was beautiful. Guiseppe Tartini's `The Devil's Trill', right?”

 

“Yes, it was”

 

“That's certainly an extremely difficult violin sonatas to perform. It takes talent to play it so perfectly”

 

“Thank you, it took me five-years to master it”, she blushes, “You a listener of classical?”

 

“I used to…”

 

“With…with Lucrecia?”, she asks.

 

“No, my father…”

 

“Oh…”, she gasps, “I'm sorry…”

 

“It's alright, he was a good man who died protecting another…”

 

“You miss your father?”

 

“I barely knew him, he was rarely home with him busy at work…”

 

“I see, at least you knew your father; even if just a little…”

 

“I forgot, you didn't know your father…”

 

“It's okay, we should get dressed and meet the others down in the lobby”, she says, weakly smiling.

 

“Meet you in a few minutes”, he replies, turning to return to his bedroom.

 

“Vincent?”

 

“Yes?”, he asks, turning his head to look at her from over his shoulder.

 

“How is your arm feeling?”

 

He looks down at his ungloved left arm, “It's doing fine. The wound hasn't returned”

 

“That's good”, she warmly smiles, “See you later”, she waves.

 

After Vincent leaves the room, Yoko starts walking towards the bed to retrieve the clothes she laid out for herself. Her vision begins to blur and she quickly blacks-out, regaining consciousness for a few moments later to find herself slumped against the edge of the bed.

 

“Uhh…”, she groans, bringing a hand to her head, only to stare at it; watching it tremble, `This isn't good… I've used too much energy last night… I have to take it easy for the next few days or I won't last long…', she mentally tells herself, `I can't die, not until I complete my goal…'

 

 

 

 

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