Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Guns and Roses ❯ Love ( Chapter 16 )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
Disclaimer: FF VII and all the characters herein belong to Square Enix, except Liana (I made her ^_^).
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It was bright. Too bright. He wanted to lift his hand to shield his eyes, but his arms felt like lead weights at his side. He could hear soft voices talking beside him, but they were indiscernible. He was able to turn his head slightly, which caused pain to shoot through his entire body. He grimaced, unable to suppress a whimper that escaped his lips.
“Be still sir,” a voice said next to him, as a warm hand rested lightly on his shoulder. “You were injured pretty badly. You shouldn't move.”
Vincent forced his eyes to open, the face of the young man next to him blurry. “Where am I?” he whispered, his throat dry.
“You're in an ambulance,” the young man said. “We're on our way to the hospital. In fact, we're pulling in the drive right now.” He looked down at Vincent. “You're in good hands, sir.”
Vincent grimaced as more pain racked his body, and he closed his eyes tightly. Tifa? Did you do all this? He felt the ambulance stop, and he heard the paramedics exchange words, before slowly lifting him out of the ambulance. He vaguely wondered where Tifa was as they wheeled him into the ICU. His mind, which was reeling from the damage to his body and the recent events, was hazy and unable to focus, and he soon found that sleep was the safest place, since, when he was there, he didn't have to feel or think. He felt his mind drifting away into the beckoning darkness, when a scream suddenly jolted him.
“VINCENT!”
His eyes snapped open, and he tried to turn his head. He knew that voice. “Tifa?” he breathed. He was able to focus some, and it didn't surprise him at all to see her struggling with two male nurses as she tried to get him. He watched until he could no longer see them, feeling tension building in his chest. When would they let him see her? He struggled to sit up some, but the young man from earlier stopped him.
“It's okay, Mr. Valentine,” he said, placing a hand on his shoulder to still him. “They'll let her see you after the doctors have had a chance to assess your injuries. It's better if she stays out the way until we have you all patched up.”
Vincent still felt a glimmer of doubt, but he knew that the young paramedic was right. He eased back, closing his eyes, the pain and weariness causing him to succumb to sleep.
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“Vincent!” Tifa yelled, struggling with the nurses. She watched as the paramedics wheeled him through some doors and out of sight. “Let me go! I have to make sure he's okay! Vincent!”
“Please, miss,” one of them said, his hands wrapped tightly around one of her arms. “You're disturbing the other patients.”
Tifa paused, glaring at him. “I don't care! He's been shot! I need to know if he'll be alright!” she yelled furiously. She glanced at the other nurse, who seemed rather pensive. “Don't you two understand that!”
The first nurse, seeing that she had stopped fighting, led her to a chair. “Yes,” he said, sitting her down. “We do. But we don't know how seriously your friend has been injured yet. We need you to stay here, out of the way, so that we can do our jobs and take care of him.”
Tifa felt the fight leave her suddenly, weakness and worry consuming her. “He'll be alright, won't he?” she asked quietly, tears in her eyes.
The second nurse, whom she had noticed had left, returned at that moment, a file in his hands. “It appears his injuries were the worst in his ribs,” he said, scanning the pages in the file. “We'll need to do x-rays, but the bleeding was coming from his chest cavity.” He looked up. “That's all we know right now. The doctors should be finished examining him in a while, and then we can allow you to see him.” His eyes were stern as they pinned her. “But only if you sit here calmly. I don't want to have to call security.”
Tifa nodded, looking at the floor. She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling her body trembling as tears crowded her eyes.
“Were you there?” the first one asked, watching her carefully.
Tifa shook her head, trembling even more. She looked up at the man, noticing for the first time his long silver hair and black scrubs. She noticed that the other man was similar in appearance, but his hair was shorter and he was better built, while the first was tall and lanky.
“I'm Yazoo,” the first said, his emerald eyes searching her hazel ones. “If you need anything let me, or my brother Loz, know, okay?”
Tifa nodded. She watched as Loz walked toward them, a cup of coffee in his hands.
“Here,” he said, handing it to her. “It's not the greatest, but it'll get rid of your chills.” He watched her take a sip.
“Thank you,” she said softly, the warm liquid burning her insides and fighting off the shock that she had been feeling. She watched as they both returned to their stations, and she steeled herself for a long, anxious wait.
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It was dark when Vincent regained consciousness. He knew it was real this time, as, when he woke, he felt as if he were really awake, and not simply moving through some sort of warm haze. He opened his eyes slowly, seeing dark shapes moving outside the curtains that surround the hospital bed he was in. He realized he was sitting up a little, and he turned his head slightly, seeing another figure next to him. His tired eyes softened when he realized it was Tifa, curled up and asleep in the recliner chair.
He watched her for a moment, then tried to move to a more comfortable position. He gritted his teeth as pain shot through him, and he tried to silently ease himself back onto the pillow, but the pain was persistent. When he was finally comfortable, he realized that his breathing was ragged, and he glanced at Tifa once more, grateful that she was still asleep. He figured that she must have had a rough few hours. He noticed that tension was etched into her face, even though she seemed to be sleeping peaceful. He felt slightly guilty that he had been the cause of her anxiety, but he was grateful she was here now. He closed his eyes, sighing softly. He started to drift to sleep once more, when a soft rustle caught his attention. He opened his eyes, watching as Tifa stretched lightly.
She blinked sleepily, before her eyes focused on him, and soft smile came to her lips. “How do you feel?” she whispered.
He glanced away, wishing he could just shrug it off. “Okay, I guess,” he said softly, glancing back at her. He watched as she stood and stepped toward the bed, sitting on the edge.
She nodded, her eyes searching his. “Don't you ever do what you did tonight ever again,” she hissed quietly, her hazel eyes searching his. Tears had begun to brim in them. “I was scared I was going to lose you.”
Vincent gave her an unruly half smile. “I'm not going anywhere,” he said, lifting his hand to gently stroke her cheek.
Tifa sniffled, throwing her arms around him and hugging him tightly. She cried softly against his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her, slightly surprised at first. He whispered soothing things softly in her ear as he stroked her hair. “I'm sorry, Tifa,” he breathed, holding her tightly. He listened to her cry a little while longer, before she stilled. He looked down at her, seeing that her eyes were closed, and he thought she might be asleep. He watched her a moment more, before feeling her inhale deeply.
“They said you had lost too much blood,” she whispered suddenly.
Vincent's crimson gaze turned to the ceiling as he realized she was talking about when they first found him.
“They said they didn't know why your heart was still beating,” she whispered. She looked up at him, her hazel eyes shining from her tears. “But it was.” She looked away, resting her ear over his heart. “They said the internal damage was too great, and they didn't think you would make it to the hospital.” Vincent could feel her trembling. “But the paramedics said you woke up in the ambulance. And your heart never stopped.” She sniffled a little, her voice barely a whisper. “They said you spoke to them, and when we arrived here, you actually tried to get up.” She stared blindly at the wall, her breathing ragged, and her body still trembling. “They said you should have died at the scene.”
Vincent closed his eyes, feeling Tifa shift. “I've already told you, Tifa,” he whispered. He opened his eyes, meeting her gaze as she sat up. “I can't die.” He watched her stare at him blindly for a moment, before looking away. “Although, I will tell you that getting shot hurts like a bitch.” He watched her smile despite the worry on her face.
She turned to look back at him, her hazel eyes blank. She seemed to be lost in thought as she stared at him, before she blinked, fear and sadness and the purest light Vincent had thought he had ever seen filling her eyes. “I don't want you to die,” she whispered, more tears coming to her eyes. She wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging to him. “I love you.”
Vincent felt his heart stop. He stared straight ahead for a moment, before looking at her. “What did you say?” he breathed. He watched her sit up, tears sliding down her cheeks.
“I love you, you stupid idiot,” she said, crying softly. She wiped quickly at her eyes. “I've never been more scared in my entire life than I was today.” She shook her head. “Don't EVER do that again.”
Vincent smiled softly, brushing the tears from her cheeks. “I won't,” he said softly, watching her cry. He felt his heart pang slightly. No one had ever cried such innocent tears for him before. Not even Lucrecia. He pulled her toward him, kissing her softly. “I promise.” He started with her lips, but then slowly began to kiss away the silver tears on her cheeks, before softly kissing them from her eyes, then returning to her lips. “I love you, too.”
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The rest of Vincent's hospital stay was uneventful, save for the police visits, and by the end of the week he was standing on the sidewalk next to Tifa, ready to go home. He had told the police, who had found no trace of the intruder at his mansion, that he hadn't been able to get a good look at his attacker, ensuring that they would stay out of his personal war. It was safer that way. More innocent lives were spared, since only he could deal with Sephiroth.
The doctors, to say the least, had been shocked at his speedy recovery, though no one said anything about it. Or, if they did, it hadn't been to his face. They still seemed dumbfounded that he had survived the whole ordeal, and they referred to him as the Miracle Man. They had never seen anything like it, and he hoped they never would again. He knew it was dangerous business being exposed like that, but as long as no one pursued his amazing healing abilities, there was nothing for him to worry about. He glanced at the hospital one last time, feeling Tifa take his hand.
“Ready?” she asked, gazing up into his eyes.
He glanced at her, smiling as he nodded. “Let's go.”