Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Lunatic Pandora ❯ The Past, Creeping up to Kill Me ( Chapter 5 )

Chapter Five: The Past, Creeping up to Kill Me

 

One-Winged Angel: Once more, I would like to announce that I do not own anythingin this fic. The characters belong to Square. Thanks for reading, I really appreciate it. Love you all, and here goes chapter five!!

 

* * *

To dare to live alone is the rarest courage; since there are many who had rather meet their bitterest enemy in the field, than their own hearts in the closet. - Charles Caleb Colton

* * *

 

He was wandering through a dark abyss alone, solitary and locked away from the rest of the world, a lost soul in the immense city that shot up around him like the very mountains that lurked in the darkness behind the town. His assignment had been to watch over the ShinRa scientists that had been stationed there to continue research on the acclaimed JENOVA project, said researchers steps ahead of him and making their way to what the Turks member assumed to be the lab they were stationed in. Briefly he wondered why he had been sent here, of all places, rather than be stationed elsewhere.

Of course, she was here, a thought that made him shudder as he watched her slender form take small, graceful steps ahead of him. This would be his chance.

The thought was a memory that Vincent knew all too well; the first day that he had been present in Nibelheim as a member of the rising group known as the Turks. The day that he had walked straight into his own deathtrap, had condemned himself by even taking a single step into the mountain range engulfed city with no known importance on the map.

The town itself was a research facility; a place where ShinRa held the being called JENOVA, where the woman of his dreams and his partners had been sent, him as their body guard, to attempt at furthering the project itself.

Another nightmare? The thought crossed his mind as he peered through the eyes of his past self, shorter strands of raven hair curling about his alabaster cheeks and around his garnet colored eyes. Vincent found himself walking without a will of his own, the man apparently unable to alter the image - as was the procedure every time - as it carried itself out in his sleeping mind. A single, slender hand reached out as he found himself stopped before the inn of the slumbering town, the man snatching the knob quickly and stepping into the room.

Only to fall forward, tripping and staggering into a different scene, a different body, his form now lying weakly on the heated ground of the same town as the last apparition. Flames flickered around him in a spiral of burning color and light and heat, the form of a man that he had once known and loved (somehow he could feel these emotions) towering over him.

The thought came in quick, broken fragments of a memory; a thin gasp slipping from his lips, mouth slightly open as he stared in awe at the sight, cat-like eyes - misted and empty and so much unlike their old self - boring down at him coldly.

Emerald eyes. Emerald, the color of immortality. Flames dancing a demon's ballad in the sea of green velvet, crimson rain staining glass skin and onyx garments. A platinum katana that matched platinum hair in sheen, the man turning, staggering, limping his way through the fire and away from him.

The longing to scream sticking in his chest, a constant struggle to make his way to his feet and away form the burning house that he had once inhabited, to escape from the feeling of loss and despair. A loud crash behind his head, and again he was cast into darkness.

Once more the scene shifted, Vincent feeling as if his body was being tossed about like a simple child's toy once more, his mind shoved forcefully into another ephemeral dream. A wave of jade - pure glistening, maybe glowing, green - overtook his vision. He was floating, drifting and drifting with no way of escape, throat and eyes and mouth burning yet not burning, his lungs breathing and screaming yet not. Pure, untainted fear and a wave of panic, pain coursing through every nerve in his body as he was jerked from the warm liquid and pulled to the hard floor. Laugher and crystal appliances, rows upon rows of damnable instruments, an all too familiar face stepping into view.

Screams rising from another's chest in tune with his own broken shouts, diminishing thoughts and a crumbling sense of reality only to be washed away in another spiraling movement. Again Vincent found himself sprawled in the same room, hurled into another dream-like image, one that he could painfully recognize as his own past rather than that of someone else.

The same ebony haired man leaning over him, slender hands brushing over his face and neck, wires drilling into the numbness in every inch of his body and overwhelming his senses. Lips pressing to his harshly, shouts caught in his throat, mummers and taunts and the harsh words of mocking puncturing into his body.

Calm darkness invading his thoughts and giving him the blissful reprieve from the man only to give way to the nightmares that lingered in his mind every night that he slept after that incident. The words he heard over and over again in his thoughts, a constant whisper of an angelic being, curls of brunette hair and beautiful emerald eyes looking into his own.

“There is no way to stop me, I'm so sorry Mr. Valentine. It's my duty as a scientist, for the research - I can't, I apologize…-” Static and a blur of words all rolled into one again drifting into his mind, “Do you like tea, by any chance? I can make - How do you like it here? Beautiful, is it not? I think I would love to-”

A jumble of nonsense words and phrases that had happened long ago in the past, a stunning, auburn haired woman leaning over him, face framed by the silky mane.

“You… you love me? I'm so sorry Vincent, so sorry…” The first time she had called him something other than “Mr. Valentine of the Turks,” and it was then. Ironic how his life seemed to work without his will, without his consent.

The memories crumbled like a broken mirror as he was cast into the swallowing darkness, the intensity of the nothing nearly choking him as he fell through it in a cascading freefall through oblivion, his mind jumbled with thoughts that he knew were not his own. He felt a lingering relief, despite the looming darkness that threatened to devour him into another image, to be away from the past that he so hated, the feelings that he bore towards it sluggishly drifting from his mind as he fell.

Only to be replaced with a sense of dread.

There was blood. Blood everywhere, coating the walls and floor, thick and red and hot, a sticky film marring every inch of his uncovered flesh and the clothing that stuck tightly to his torso and legs. A heavy weight pulled down his right hand, the massive weapon familiar in his grip, a mess of remains and bits and pieces of gore before him and clinging to the weapon at his side.

And the most hideous laugh raising from his own chest, the man unable to control the image, golden hair tossed about and before his eyes as it rang in a shrill cry throughout the room.

* * *

“Seph… Sephiroth!” The name slipped from his lips and drifted through the dark atmosphere of the ShinRa mansion without the being noticing it, the figure turning mutely and vanishing at the corner of the hall. Dumbfounded and surprised Cloud staggered forward, his body numbed and stiff as if the sight had caused him to lose all sense of feeling and thought.

So he was still in existence, the almighty general of ShinRa Corporation? A tight ball formed in the young man's throat, blocking off all words that he could have said at the moment, the numbness slowly dripping from his body like water down a crystal pane, allowing him to once more move forward.

The rotten wood of the floor snapped beneath his feet as he ran, tripping clumsily up the stairway and towards the direction the phantom had disappeared, his mind a whirl of questions upon questions. He really is here? Why? Isn't he - But JENOVA? I thought - Broken fragments of thoughts drifted in his mind as the man spun on his heel, facing the bedroom that led to the concealed basement stairway, the place being the obvious destination of the fleeting angel.

He could remember the room as it was five years ago perfectly; waves of recognition and remembrance washing over him like a heavy fog. He could remember sitting in that chair, waiting and watching, his face set with the look of unbreakable determination as he waited for the man in the library to return to him. The room remained the same, as if the place were caught in time and would never age any further than it had until that day, the bed and other furnishing in the exact place that he remembered. Sapphire eyes darted towards the brick pillar that marked the hidden door to the laboratory beneath him, a shudder of fear and anxiety coursing through his form as he made his way towards the portal.

A creak slide into the air as he pulled the moving part of the wall away, the false barrier sliding to the side and causing a blast of damp air to hit his face and arms in humid tendrils, mingling with the darkness that seemed to creep out to engulf him and pull him down. Peering over the side of the metal stairs his eyes widened, the spiraling of silver tresses catching his eye as the general continued down the hall in a half limp, half stagger, his steps uneven and awkward. “Sephiroth!” No response answered the man's desperate cry, Cloud running down the staircase to his right - regardless of the obvious way that the man had disregarded his voice - in a desperate attempt to catch up with him.

The air was thick in the basement hallway, the stench that lingered in the dark atmosphere reminding the blonde strongly of death and decay; a feeling he was all too familiar with. Glancing warily around the area he took in the long corridor, searching, scanning for any sign of the figure he pursued with such fervor, the flesh over his sternum burning in sharp, painful throbs as he watched. Finding his investigation fruitless he continued forward, the man's pace slowed to a cautious walk, much unlike the mad dash he had made to get down into the cellar-like place at first.

“Sephiroth? Show yourself to me… Please…” The gentle whisper of his voice died away as he continued forward along the hall, the man making his way towards the visible door of the library in the back, his mind telling him that Sephiroth had once more returned to that damned room. A whisper continued ringing in his head as he went, the voice from earlier murmuring words that he couldn't quite comprehend in a continuous buzz of speech, as if to force him to move deeper and deeper into the mansion's interior.

Reaching the door the youth stopped as if frozen in place, a single gloved hand coming to hover delicately over the handle to the oaken frame, a glimpse of fear lingering in his eyes as he let them wander up and down the frame. The portal was dust free, as if someone else had recently been through the small door before him, the notion driving him to push it open with a shove from his shoulder, the opening permitting him entrance to the corridor.

There was a calm darkness about the minute room that seemed oddly familiar to the man as he stepped inside, the rot and mold of the decayed air twirling about in thin wisps and spreading the stench of mortality in curls around his form. Stacks upon stacks of books were discarded haphazardly along the hard stone floor and tossed atop the table that sat in the center of the laboratory section, a shudder of knowledge racking through the man's sinewy form as he took a hesitant step towards the center of the chamber.

A brief flicker of remembrance coursed along his body - his stomach and chest tingling with a warm sensation at the thought of it all - as he paced soundlessly towards the nearest pile of literature, his hand brushing over the film covered surface like the gentle flap of a bird's wing. The dust clung to his gloved hand persistently as he raised it to his face for his inspection, a fascination with the gray covering overtaking him as he flicked it from his fingertips, the particles dancing in their own rhythm through the air before him.

Sighing gently to himself Cloud peered throughout the vast chamber, a welcoming light pooling at his feet from the lamp that sat unattended in the back of the library, the desk glowing as if on fire from the luminance of the flame. His feet fell on the ground in a heavy beat as the man began his path through the short hall-like area, the thick tomes and scientific reports that he knew all too well lining both of the walls as if to imprison him in the past. A form outlined in the light was visible at the center of the bookcases, one of the ancient texts held open in his slender, translucent hands, the pages threatening to crumble at the slightest of touches. “Sephiroth… What are you doing down here?” The words left his numbed mouth in a rushed blur, the man's throat dry at the sight of the figure standing silently before him like a marble statue, perfectly erect and free of all blemishes.

A swift shake of his head sent curls of quicksilver through the air, the taller of the two men handing Cloud the book that was resting in his hands as if to nudge the youth to read the volume as well. Startled he looked down at the pages slowly, cobalt eyes skimming over the print and picking out keywords that may tell him what the book he held was particularly about. “What do you want me to do? I don't understand!” Letting his head turn up once more the blonde found himself alone in the corridor, the figure seeming to vanish into the nothingness of the basement without leaving a trace of his existence behind.

Burning crept to the back of his eyes as he glanced once more through the room, his vision blurred with confusion and longing as he sought out the one that caused him the pain that he felt beating in rhythm with his heart. The man's search turned up empty-handed, a frown creasing his features in a deep grimace, his lips pulled taut as if to keep all the words and the emotions that threatened to spill from his lips from falling.

Examining the length of the room once more he focused his attention back on the report in his hand, the dark black ink that scrawled each and every detail in perfectly etched printing enrapturing him and enticing him to continue to read. If there was nothing else here, and if this is what the man wanted, then who was he to turn him down? He owed him this much…

* * *

A gasp slipped from Vincent's lips as he shot up in place, his hands clinging to the sheets that pooled about his waist in a tight vice, his eyes widened with fear and anxiety from the nightmare that he had just endured. Frightened and alert he peered meekly around the dim light of the inn's sleeping chamber, his gaze scanning the area and taking in every important detail that rest in the small room as if searching for some sign of the person that plagued his sleep. Finding nothing the man allowed himself to lean forward, his hand snaking through his bangs and clutching his head tightly. Whose… memories were those? Why is it that I saw them here, now? Shaking his head swiftly he let his elbow fall on his knee, propping his head up in thought, his breathing finally returning to its regular pace as he allowed himself to sort through the jumble of memories and nightmares that he had been hit with during the night.

A majority of those memories are my own, but… How can it be that I am seeing the thoughts of another? Seeing things that… have not even occurred yet to my knowledge? A low sigh slipped past his slender, pale lips, his right hand pulling away from his head to come into his view, eyes scanning over the palm that had carried the weapon in his dream. Everything had seemed so real - too real - the images freshly burnt into his mind as he allowed everything to slowly sink into his thoughts, the smoldering feeling that something in the small town was not right lingering in his chest.

Turning to peer over to his left Vincent examined the other beds that ran along the sides of the room, both forms holding the visible shape of their occupants; Tifa and Yuffie at the far side, closest to the door, and Cid nearest to him, face set into the most peaceful expression the ex-Turk had ever seen it in. After a moment he shook his head, peeling the blankets away from his form and swinging his legs over the edge of the mattress. He was dressed in his long-sleeve shirt and pants still, the scarlet cloak hanging like a curtain over the wooden chair at his side, his other accessories - his boots, handgun, bandana and single glove - resting among the object. The corners of his mouth curved down as he frowned lightly, the lingering fatigue that normally came with first awakening eliminated from the intensity and confusion of the dream - memories, actually - that he had witnessed.

Silently he climbed to his feet, his back to the others, slender hands reaching out to grab the cuff of the cape and toss it over his shoulders, the clasps buckling swiftly from his experience with dressing in the garment. Hastily he gathered the remainder of the items, the silver handgun strapped securely to his right hip, the man using his teeth to pull on the brown leather glove as he made his way around the side of the bed.

Vincent paused as he came to the foot of the blonde pilot's bed, ruby eyes taking in the slumbering form with a tinge of amusement at his sprawled out position. Sleeping with him would be nearly impossible… He seems to enjoy his space. A silent laugh shook his chest lightly as the thought crossed his mind; the demon cutting the action off abruptly as he realized what he had just said to himself. What am I thinking? Furious more with himself rather than anything else he turned on his heel, boots hitting the floor in a barely audible rhythm as he paced out of the area and into the hallway, his thin hand pulling the wooden door shut behind him

He had matters to attend to first; the feeling that came with the dream still lingered as strong as it had when he had first awakened, and his debate on his life could wait until he learned of the vision's origins. With an air of importance and rush he made his way down the narrow staircase that led to the lobby - if it could be called that - of the inn, his eyes quickly scanning along the doors and emptied counter of the area in search of some hint to the emotion that lingered heavy in his breast. Again he found nothing, the man quickly turning his back to the area and making his way towards the door, his human hand grasping the brass handle and twisting it, letting himself out of the area.

A burst of chill air swept around Vincent as he pried the portal from its frame, a flurry of ashen flakes flying towards him and clinging to his clothing and hair tightly. Slowly he pressed the door back into place after he paced out into the opening, the dim glow of morning creeping along the horizon and seeping gently across the sky in an array of oranges and reds and yellows. A gray veil surrounded the light, the familiar clouds that hung above the air lazily traveling through the sky, the snow that they dropped on the earth below falling in spirals to the ground.

He paused, bright eyes turning upwards momentarily, his face tilted to the sky as he took in the fresh, welcomed breeze of mountain air, Vincent's face falling into a perfectly smooth mask of no emotion. His lips curved just slightly as he let his eyes slide shut slowly, his mind seemingly free of all confrontations with itself for this brief moment, the peace that he found in the early daylight seeming to block out the confusing reality around him.

The soothing spiral of crystals caused him to smile gently to himself, another memory - much more comforting, in it's own sense, than the ones that he had suffered through regularly - made itself present in his mind, conjuring up the feelings that he thought he had been able to bury.

“Isn't the snow so beautiful Mr. Valentine? I have never seen snow before… it never snows in Midgar. What about you? Have you ever seen anything so beautiful, so pure?”

A gentle shake of his head, short ebony hair tickling his cheeks and forehead at the simplest of actions. “Never… Coming here as given me the chance to see many beautiful things that I have never seen before,” Such as you, “because of the plate in Midgar always being in the way…”

“It's a shame, really… How no one can ever see the sky there. It is like we are all birds trapped in a grim-coated metal cage we built ourselves.” A startled gasp made its way from the woman's lips as she caught herself in her speech, a light flush of rose spilling onto her cheekbones. “Ah, excuse me Mr. Valentine… I was getting caught up in thought again.”

“I have no problem with it, really…” He whispered the words along with the soft voice of his past self in his thoughts, the memory drifting away like fine sand through his fingertips, the image of the woman he had loved vanishing as quickly as it had come. Harshly he pushed away all such thoughts, a firm resolve to try to ignore the past overtaking him as he continued forward, uncertainty as to where to turn washing over him as he glanced about the buildings surrounding him in a rushed motion. Nodding to no one in particular he stepped forward once more, his strides taking him swiftly to the towering form in the back of the town; if the original nightmares had come from there, what would stop the newer images from coming from there as well?

* * *

Vincent couldn't conceal the quick shiver that ran throughout his body as he stepped into the rundown ShinRa Mansion, his garnet eyes darting swiftly over every door, every corner of the room before him. He was positive that this was where he would find his answers to the dream that he had witnessed, the ex-Turk making his way forward and deeper into the antechamber. Turning he paced up the crumbling staircase that led to the second floor, the raven-haired man knowing exactly where to start his search for answers.

The basement.

It only seemed logical that that hell hole - the place of his torture and damnation for those decades at Hojo's hand - would be the first area to look if something was really going wrong in the small town. Hastily the gunman paced through the dark halls, a sense of fear causing him to frequently glance over his shoulder and around the surrounding area in search of prying eyes in the darkness. Distantly Vincent heard several demons in the back of his mind laugh at his sudden sense of fear, but he brushed away their rasping chuckles.

Blocking out the demons and quickening his pace the man turned into the bedroom chamber that held the hidden passage to the mansion's basement, the stone wall-like door already pulled from its place and left open, as if someone else had been down the spiraling metal stairway. “Could it be… Sephiroth?” Out of habit he reached to his hip where the weapon he had brought with him rest (why hadn't he brought the Death Penalty instead?), his fingers curling over the cool handle warily. Cautiously Vincent started down the stairway, his movements inhumanly silent on the onyx metal that made the staircase beneath his boots, the man swiftly descending to the basement level of the household.

Stepping off of the stairs Vincent glanced around the hallway, the vampiric being frowning at the empty corridor in a mingled sense of frustration and annoyance. “Where the hell…” His sentence stopped short as he noticed the opened door at the back of the hall, his blood-red eyes seeing perfectly through the dark atmosphere and to the far end of the corridor. Once more he continued his path forward, his pace quickening just slightly as he headed for the room in the far back, his gaze focused forward to hide the sight of the all too familiar room on his left.

Stepping into the area he frowned, the dim light that hung from the damp ceiling of the basement blazing over his head, the man glancing over every inch and crevice of the small room. Carefully Vincent paced to the center of the vicinity, taking in the rows upon rows of books, test tubes and other scientific appliances. “Is anyone-” Before the remainder of his question could leave his lips Vincent found his answer, a low laugh - so much like the one in his dream! - made its way towards him, the sound seeming to curl through the air in a corporal form and taunt him, threatening to drag him into its depths. “Who's there!”

“It is so ironic, is it not? How pitifully…” Faltering for a moment the raven-haired gunman turned towards the sound of the voice, his body spinning effortlessly to turn towards the row of bookcases that made up the hallway to the back library. His garnet eyes widened as he took in the familiar sight, the gun on his hip being drawn reluctantly to aim at the perfect silhouette in the passageway.

“Cloud? What are you doing down here?” The man's only response was the continuing of that damned laughing, the sound rising and falling with the quaking of its owner's shoulders, the blonde-haired man turned to face away from his companion. “Cloud… Are you alright…?” Slowly he made his way towards the shaking form, the silver pistol never facing away from the center of the man's back, Vincent praying to any and every god he could think of that he wouldn't have to press the cool metal trigger.

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

One-Winged Angel: Is it… finally done?

Cloud: No fecking way… o.o

One-Winged Angel: Gomen nasai everyone! I'm really sorry that this took so long, but I've had the worst case of writer's block known to author kind, and I wasn't able to think of anything for this part. If it seems a little choppy or something, then that's probably why. Writer's block tends to do that to me.

Cloud: And you apparently get it very frequently.

One-Winged Angel: Ermmm… Yeah. Well, please review. See the shiny button? It's used for reviewing and making us very happy people. ::Tacky beam towards everyone::