Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Now a Monster ❯ Home Again ( Chapter 7 )

AN: Sorry I haven't responded to my reviewers. I had a very serious family problem and while I read all your reviews and was pathetically grateful for them, I didn't have the energy to respond. Thanks everyone! You don't know how much I appreciated hearing how happy you were with my story the last couple of months. I hope to get back to my responses now.

Now a Monster

Chapter 7: Home Again

Hojo

I wish I had stayed asleep, or at least in that pleasant half state where you drift between sleep and being awake. There, there were no problems. I was aware of Vincent wrapped around me protectively with my head against his arm, his body pressed against my back, his arms wrapped around me, and his breath in my hair. I wanted to stay like that, safe and loved.

It had been so long and even if it was just a delusion, I wanted to cling to it.

The world however doesn't like people lazing about in bed. Ask any person who's ever tried to sleep in late. They will tell stories of long lost relatives suddenly calling, wrong numbers, neighbors showing up for a cup of coffee that hadn't spoken to them in years, religious missionaries, and small children selling candy. Even I had my share. When I lived alone, I had carefully cultivated an image of the ultimate person you wouldn't want to bother, but still, even after all my cackling, evil smirking, and not so subtle threats of odd scientific experiments that needed “volunteers”, I still got yanked out of bed by sweet faced children selling chocolate bars.

At least this time I knew my waker wouldn't break into tears and go wailing to his outraged mommy.

“Really? He is? How sweet.” Veld was snickering evilly into a phone. “Be nice to him and give him some of my gyokuro. Make him pay for it, but you can let him into my private stash.” More snickering.

“Veld. Keep it down.” Vincent whispered. “If you have to gloat, do so quietly.”

I heard the rattle of the phone being put back into its cradle. “Tseng is feeling a bit stressed.”

Vincent shifted slightly pulling the blanket up around me and settling me more comfortably against his body. “Just be quiet.”

I drifted, muzzily wondering why Veld was alive and talking about Tseng, but I decided I was probably hallucinating the whole thing -I have lots of practice hallucinating things. I once ambled around for two months speaking Wutaian and believing I was a drugstore clerk living back in my childhood village. Much to my later humiliation, the only person who understood me was Tseng, who had the lovely task of keeping me from inadvertently harming myself (My piggy presidential pal had to have him physically hauled into his office and had to issue a direct order for him to babysit me while I was “feeling a bit under the weather.”) and afterwards Tseng avoided me for two years, to our mutual peace, well being, and joy as our psychological sore spots recovered from the result of having too much quality time together.- so I went back to sleep hoping that I could hallucinate that Vincent and I never went to Nibelheim and had grown old together and I was now suffering from arthritis.

When I woke up again, Vincent had disappeared and the room was cast in the twilight shades of dusk. It was a nice enough room with its cushy armchairs, heavy coffee table, and thickly framed pictures. Like most houses in Bone Village, the roof was the curved dome of a skull and the windows were eye or hear holes. The smell of candles was lingering in the air and a few rustling sounds were coming from another room.

I tried to sit up, but quickly learned that sitting was not an activity that my body was willing to perform. The sudden sharp pain radiating from my shoulder, back, and legs told me quite clearly that lying still was probably the best option for the foreseeable future. I hate being still. There was an entire Planet out there to look at and I was missing it. Just to spite me, the Planet was probably doing something spectacular, one of those once every ten thousand year things, and the reason I was alone was because Vincent and every other non-bullet perforated person were out gaping at the event.

Well, if the Planet was going to be like that, I was going back to sleep. I'd meet its vindictive splendor and raise it by complete indifference. It could glitter and sparkle and dance like a chocobo and it wouldn't bother me. Nope. Not a bit. Not even slightly…honestly…I bet the mako volcano off the coast of the Western Continent erupted. I'd been waiting for that for the last twenty three years. Or maybe a polar shift… that would be amazing…

I opened my eyes to glare out the window at the horrid Planet and found myself looking at Vincent. He was crouched next to the bed looking at me with an unreadable expression.

No small, private smile that he used to reserve just for me.

No “I missed you.”

Not even an “I see you're still alive. Where's my gun?”

I was just convincing myself that my broken mind had once again led me off on a small fun-filled fantasy of Vincent carrying me out of the City of the Ancients and holding me as I slept when he reached out and delicately traced his finger down the side of my face.

“Feeling better?” His voice was as soft as the fading light around us.

Life, as I mentioned before, is not fair. If life was like the movies, I would have been able to whisper back in a smooth, pleasing, but brave tone my heroic, though completely bogus, assurance that I was feeling better. I probably would have even been able to reach one weak hand up to touch my beloved before passing out from the strain. As it was, when I tried to talk, my throat decided that that was the time to show me what happens when you haven't had a drink in a few years, you run around dust filled ruins, and get shot: your throat feels like someone's poured cement down it, let it harden, then covered the whole thing with glue. Then of course there was the fact that I was lying in a cot with my right side to the wall and the left side, the side with the gun perforations, was facing where Vincent was, so even the hand gesture was a no go.

Vincent interpreted my sudden gacking, gulping, and clawing at my throat pathetically with my right hand and gently helped me sit up and handed me a drink. Being the practical person he was, he handed me a potion.

Someday, I had to work on getting those things to not taste like candy. Really, you're hurt, in pain, maybe bleeding to death and you're supposed to be saved by a fluid that tastes like something you'd pick out in the candy aisle for a toddler. Couldn't someone find a more adult flavor? Why did it have to taste like a strawberry lollipop?

I gagged the stuff down and felt it work through my body. Vincent crouched next to me watching my recovery with careful eyes. I was sure that if I had the nerve to not heal fully, that he'd pour another syrupy concoction down my throat, so I stayed still and silently urged the potion to do its job thoroughly.

“Good.”

Ah. I was getting the picture. This was Vincent in silent, broody mode. Which means, this was a very upset, worried Vincent who needed reassurance that all was well.

Happily, if belatedly, the potion healed my shoulder enough for me to reach up and touch him and my throat was back to being functional. Mind you, I couldn't pull of Vincent's dark, velvet cadences without direct divine intervention, so I croaked back, “Are you better?”

One might think I would be a bit more snarky about this, but after years of living with the perfection that is Vincent, I had given up all pretense of trying to match him. I was born homely, with a rough voice, a gangling boney body, and a less than impressive presence. Trying to compete with Vincent's dark beauty, flawless voice, elegant body, and a presence that could make a rampaging herd of Malborros stop and dither is just too much for any mortal. I enjoyed basking in his glory though. That's always been fun.

He brushed off my concern and started inspecting my shoulder with gentle, but very professional interest.

Oh. This is Vincent in avoidance mode, which combined with the silent, broody mode means he's nearly desperate for someone to either kill or to hold him and sooth his nerves. Vincent is, contrary to what his idiot friends may believe, a very delicate soul in his own I-have-a-gun, I-kill-for-a-living, I'm-a-bad-bad-man way.

I stopped his exploration of my shoulder by sitting up and catching his hand. “I'm fine, Vincent. I want to know about you.”

His eyes skittered away, still astray in the neighborhood of avoidance, a happy suburb of in the land of denial. “I was not the one who was shot.”

Ah, how this brought back memories. It also brought back the easiest strategy to deal with broody, avoiding Vincent. I had practice. So, I looked solemn and nodded. “Yes, and I am still a bit tired. I should probably get back to sleep.”

I gave a sleepy yawn and fussed with the blankets then stopped and looked at him worriedly, “Are…are you going to be here?” I made my voice hesitate uncertainly. “I'm…” I glanced nervously around the darkening room. “I'm just…”

I knew that part of Vincent knew what I was doing. It was an old game we played when we lived together. Vincent would be nearly ricocheting off the walls in an excess of anxiety about something and I'd come up with some reason that it was necessary for him to come over and cuddle under the pretense of soothing my nerves. Generalized anxiety was good enough, and it would, considering the circumstances, be difficult for him to say I was lying through my teeth.

A tiny smile that peeked at the corner of his mouth also let me know he was on to my act, but he shifted closer and sat on the edge of the bed. “I'll be right here.”

I bit my lip and nodded. “Okay… I suppose I'm just a bit nervous… Where are we?”

“Bone Village.” He glanced around and sighed. (Translation: I'm nervous and tired. Can we skip the small talk?)

I reached over and ran my fingers over his cheek and jaw. “Sleep next to me?”

He looked over at me then his eyes skittered away nervously. “Hojo, about…”

“Later. We can have that conversation later.” I shifted over making more room for him then settled down on the bed.

He hesitated a moment, then stretched out next to me lying stiffly on top of the blankets. He really can be stubborn in these moods, but I don't give up easily either. I shifted closer and arranged myself against him ignoring all the ridged muscles, shallow panicky breathing, and involuntary twitching. I slipped an arm around his waist and used his shoulder as a pillow.

He remained a Vincicle as I pretended to drift back to sleep then as soon as I actually was starting to drowse, he relaxed and curled around me.

“You scared me.” He wrapped his arm around me.

“Sorry. I thought it was a good idea.” I murmured back.

“Hmmm.” That's Vincent's way of telling me I'm a bonehead.

We stayed quiet for awhile enjoying just being together as the sun sank away leaving us in darkness. People were walking past on the street probably hurrying home or to the bar.

“I read your diary.” Vincent whispered.

“Diary?” I felt my eyes pop open when I realized what he was talking about. Oh Planet, if he read that he knows…

I never, ever wanted Vincent to read that thing. I should have burned it, but it had kept me company for so long it had become a friend. When I had to leave Junon a few steps in front of the Turks, I had carelessly left it behind and it had fallen into the one set of hands I never wanted it to be in. Vincent does have his pride and reading about the things that had happened in Nibelheim, how he had become so very, very sick, would have been a terrible blow. I couldn't care less what he had read about me. I know what kind of fool I am, and I know what kind of monster I've become. I just never wanted him to know what Lucrecia had made him into.

“I remembered.” He turned to look at me and cupped my face in his hand. “I'm sorry. I…”

“It's all right. Don't…” I wanted to head that off quickly. I'd heard of his long, depressing wail about how he wronged his precious Lucrecia, and I didn't want him to begin that with me.

“I shot you.” He ran his hand down, sliding his palm to the places his bullets had hit. “On the cannon, I shot you and… I was happy when I did it.”

“You didn't know.” I caught his hand and lifted it kissing his knuckles. “You were still sick.”

He sighed (Translation: I don't entirely believe you, but I do love you.) and slid that hand away to cup the back of my head and pull me into a kiss. It started softly enough, his lips silky, brushing delicately over mine. I didn't really want that though so I strained up a bit, added more pressure and opened my mouth in a small invitation. He hesitated a second then in the next I was pinned to the bed with him devouring my mouth. I wasn't going to complain and pulled him down, wanting to feel his weight, solid and real, against me. I was just about to go searching for the hem of his shirt to get rid of the thing, when we got interrupted.

“Hey, I said you could stay here. I didn't say you could fuck.” The lights clicked on ruining the mood completely and making me have a few seconds of déjà vu about a horrid incident with a neighborhood girl, my mother, and why I never dated much when I lived at home.

Vincent growled, but let me up so I could sit and gape at Veld. I hadn't been hallucinating. He was alive and smirking. I had thought he'd died. I should have known. Anyone who can keep up with Vincent for all those years had to be nearly immortal.

And note, I didn't say a single word about him being too much of a gloating, sadistic bastard to be let into the lifestream.

“Any news?” Vincent's voice still held the remnants of a growl, which Veld silently laughed at.

“Cooper is going to have his first grandson.” Veld threw himself into a chair. “Tseng is roving around in the old cabins chewing on his nails, and Cosmo Canyon just got wiped off the face of the Planet.”

Vincent's full attention snapped to Veld. “Cosmo Canyon?”

“A hoard of demons ripped through it.” Veld put his feet up on the coffee table. “You're pal Highwind managed to get most of them out, but the body count was high.”

“Lucrecia?” Vincent bowed his head, looking at the floor.

“Know anyone else that runs around with an army of demons?” Veld snorted, looking disgusted.

“She can't do much.” I struggled out of the blankets to sit next to Vincent then yipped and dove back in when I realized just how little I was wearing.

“Thanks for leaving me the boxers.” I hissed at Vincent's bowed head.

“She seems to be able to do just fine. She's taken out Costa del Sol, Gongaga, Nibelheim, and now Cosmo Canyon.” Veld was patting down his pockets looking for a cigarette and a lighter. “And rumor has it that she's taken to hijacking copters with Shinra or WRO logos on them. Quite an enterprising lady.”

“Helicopters?” Vincent looked up frowning.

“Yep. Helicopters. She's got nice collection going too.” Veld found his cigarettes and lighter. “Got one just a little bit ago.” He lit his cigarette and puffed contentedly. “You know the one… the one with your pal Barret on it.”

Barret? The loud mouth moron, who I strongly suspect shot me? Still, he was Vincent's friend, so I reached over to comfort Vincent, but he shook his head and caught my hand using it to pull me closer to him. I scrambled to keep the blankets to protect what small insignificant scrap of dignity I might have still possessed.

Honestly, since both of them had seen be drunk, insane, and in various states of undress -Please Planet, let that whole episode I vaguely remember about Costa del Sol, a pack of dimwitted science groupies, a lab coat, and a itsy-bitsy black pair of swim trunks be a drunken hallucination- , I didn't really have much in the way of dignity…or self esteem left.

“I'm sorry for the pilots.” He shook his head. “But I would be lying to say I was upset about Barret.”

“I didn't think you'd be crying over that.” Veld's mouth tipped into a small, sarcastic smile.

“Saves me time.” Vincent stood up. “Tseng is in the cabins?”

“Yeah, but his little posse is hanging around the store slurping up anything hot.” Veld didn't seem in a rush to run out to get answers. Considering that it was now night and even in summer Bone Village tended toward being extremely bracing, I doubted he'd seem interested in rushing or running till the next day.

“I need to speak to him.” Vincent looked up through the windows, frowning at the sky.

I tagged my reunion dead. Veld sighed and snubbed out his cigarette, obviously joining me in believing that Vincent was off to slink around and spread moody, goth vibes around the area. He'd be slightly hampered since his cape was gone, and he couldn't swish around flamboyantly, however, I had faith he could still overcome his lack of ratty, shredded material.

“You're spoiling my fun.” Veld glowered. “I've spent a great deal of time and effort making Tseng believe that you are everywhere on the Planet and you're going to kill it dead.”

“You'll find a new way to torture him soon enough.” Vincent paused and checked back with me. “I need to speak with him. I'll be back soon.”

And with that he was gone.

And with that I was left to the not so gentle care of Veld.

I would like to point out here that if he couldn't even find his own kid, how the hell was I supposed to do it? Was I the head of the Planet's largest intelligence gathering agency? I barely could keep track of myself much less Veld. After Vincent's entombment, we spent a great deal of time and energy keeping as far away from each other as business would allow. I didn't even know he'd been married till I got a company-wide email on Shinra's employee listserve mentioning his wife and daughter's death. I wouldn't have recognized her if she came in with a sign around her neck saying she was Veld's lost, supposedly dead daughter. There were days that I didn't even recognize Sephiroth. I often had trouble even remembering where I lived and, on more occasions than I care to admit to, I found myself sleeping on a street grate under an old newspaper in Section 5 with the recent memory of wandering around looking for my apartment with no clue where it was.

Veld sat and watched me. I watched him right back. It was really a great, great night for me. I got to wake up to bullet wounds, I had to deal with a stressed out Vincent, got interrupted making out like a teen, was abandoned by my beloved in favor of him chumming around with someone in a filthy hovel, and now got to have a chipper conversation with a man who's daughter I used as an unwilling volunteer in a insane experiment that I, to this day, can't understand why I was doing it.

It isn't like there is an untapped market for people with summon materia implanted in their bodies.

I was better off with the briquettes.

“We don't like each other.” Veld started it off with his usual tact. “Actually, I'd really like to kill you.”

“True.” I nodded. “I can understand that.”

“The only reason you're still breathing is because of Vincent.” His voice was clipped and professional.

I considered explaining that I didn't know about Elfie, but in the past, I've found people very seldom care that you didn't recognize their loved ones. When you tell them, they suddenly get very humanitarian and start blathering on about how it doesn't matter if you knew or not, that torturing people in the name of science is a crime against all mankind, and then trot off to scream obscenities at fellow motorists, cheer for their neighbor's misfortunes, and scheme to get even with their coworkers, bosses, and significant others.

“Understood.” I did too. I was the same with my son and what Lucrecia had done to him. If anything, I was impressed with his self control. If left in a room with a helpless Lucrecia, I'd have had bits and pieces of her plastered on the walls and decorating the floor by now.

He stood up and ambled out. “Since Vincent's destroying my game, you might as well go back to your place. I'll get Davies to help you.”

I was bundled and shuffled off in minutes. Davies appeared, wrapped me up in a thick coat, and nearly hauled me out of that place at a quick trot. He only slowed down after we'd turned a few corners and gotten a decent way across the village.

“I'm glad you're out of there.” Davies looked over his shoulder towards the cheerful skull I'd just been in. “Veld's okay enough, but…”

But Veld was dangerous and often unpredictable. No need to say more.

“Don't worry too much about it.” I trundled along as fast as my achy body would allow. “He won't do anything to upset Vincent.

Davies didn't look convinced, but shrugged it away. “Bettina's got your place all ready for you. We figured you'd be wanting it soon.”

“Thanks.” I then gave a tiny laugh. “I guess I didn't fool you, did I?”

Davies grinned. “Nah. We knew it was you.” He paused as we came to an intersection and had to wait till a sled hauling a rib as large as a house went past. “Actually, we'd been expecting you.” We started down another street heading towards my skull. “You were bound to come home sooner or later.”

Home.

What an odd concept. I hadn't had a real home, or thought I had one, since Vincent went to sleep decades ago. I had had a glossy, expansive apartment that screamed wealth and power. I even had a villa in Costa del Sol with impeccable architecture, awe inspiring views, and interior decorating that had won awards. Yet, I only considered those places places. I never considered them a home any more than I considered an inn a home. They were just places to go to sleep in. I would have been just as happy on a cot in a back room. How strange to find I had a home all along and didn't even know it. When we got to my skull, I grinned at its familiar toothy door.

Davies unlocked it and handed me the key. “Welcome back, Hojo. Come over to the store tomorrow and say hello to everyone.” He looked innocently up at the sky. “You might even want to go look at the excavations and work with the boys.”

What he was saying was, come to the store tomorrow and get dragged out to the mud pits. After, you and your newly bonded pals can stagger back to the bar and drink yourselves into a coma. Sure, Vincent will probably have to come and haul your wasted self home, but if he hasn't managed to kill you by now, what do you have to worry about?

The answer to that is simple. No sex.

I'd be staying home, thank you. If there was a choice between shoveling mud with a group of sweaty dirty men or writhing around in bed with Vincent, hand me the lube.

“I'll think about it.” I hedged and pushed open the door.

Davies just waved and ambled back towards his home. Bettina was probably waiting for him with a warm cup of herb tea and a thousand questions.

I stepped inside and looked around. It was warm and cozy again. My bone table was cleaned and polished to a mellow shine. The floors were scrubbed clean. The bed was made with clean, new blankets and sheets. A cheery fire was snapping to itself in the fireplace; all my shelves, cabinets, and counters were spotless; and even my curtain was crisp and newly laundered.

Amazing.

I was home.