Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Once a Man ❯ First Impression ( Chapter 2 )

Once a Man

Chapter 2: First Impression

You would think it would start with her.

I won't give her the credit. It started with him.

I had just been promoted to the assistant to the director of Shinra Science and Research. It was a position that scientists around the Planet vied for, and after years of self-denial, hard work, and, I'm not too proud to admit, sheer luck, I achieved my goal.

Professor Gast was the director and after his previous assistant retired to Costa del Sol to soak up any stray tequila that might cross his path, he chose me. It was, I thought at the time, a lucky break. After living in Bone Village freezing my toes off, living in a rat infested skull that gave me nightmares of becoming dinosaur food, and eating nothing but half cooked ramen for three years, believe me, living in even a hell hole like Midgar seemed like paradise. Suddenly, I had a small, warm apartment; money for decent meals (I could even go out to eat once in awhile); a real radio that picked up real music instead of the scratchy babbling of Ice Pack Sammy, Bone Village's own resident eccentric who spent days rambling about the horror of razor burn; and, miracle of miracle, a workplace that was heated.

Not only that, but professionally I was suddenly catapulted to the pinnacle of my profession. Universities were suddenly leaving messages pleading with me to come speak to them. The same people who would look down their noses at my attendance at one of their conferences, now heaped praise on me and started leaving messages begging for a moment of my time even before I had signed my name on my contract.

It was heady stuff.

Oh, you might be asking yourself why I didn't covet Gast's position. That's rather simple. Yes, the man was paid an obscene amount, and yes, it does seem at the surface that those very things I was so pleased with were nothing to him, but he paid for those privileges. He lived at Shinra. His apartment was beyond luxurious. It even denied the term palatical, but what good was it if he only saw it as he passed through to fall on the bed? He lived for Shinra. He had no time for family, friends, hobbies. All his time, and I do mean all of it, was consumed by the company. He had everything men strive for, and no time to appreciate it. As young as I was at the time, I knew I didn't want that kind of life.

Looking at myself today, you might not believe this, but at one time I loved life. I loved a good party, sitting at a bar with good friends drinking, laughing, and joking the night away. I loved lazy afternoons lounging at a café, talking with no more than a half baked theory and a pot of good tea between me and a colleague. I loved sitting in a comfortable chair reading a rainy day away with my feet propped up and a lamp glowing, warm and golden, over my shoulder. I loved keeping company with a beautiful young woman or a beautiful young man. I loved caring for someone, giving and receiving the small gestures of affection, waking up and knowing that I loved someone and someone loved me in return. I loved being alive.

I had plans, dreams. I wanted a companion, a real home, and perhaps, someday, children. Those normal, everyday things that people strive for were once my goals too. Ah, how quickly those dreams died. They died hard too. I clung to them long after they had withered in my hands leaving me clutching the desiccated, crumbling remains, desperate to try to breathe life into them again.

As head of Shinra Science and Research, Gast's position left no time for all those things. I truly didn't want it. Later, when I did get it, I still didn't want it, but by that time, I had nothing else. When you've lost everything, you don't care if someone hands you garbage. At least it's something to hold besides your own pain.

So, there I was, strolling around my new life, gawking like a tourist, when he walked in.

Let me say this. He was stunning. I mean that literally. He slammed a door into my head. You see, I was trying to get a paper clip that had slid off a stack of research and the slippery thing had skittered over to the door. I was bending down to retrieve it and he chose that moment to make his entrance into my life. To say I was less than thrilled with a bodyguard whose first action was to give me a concussion goes without explanation. Oh yes, I noted the slender body, the lovely face, the fine boned hands, the exquisite, tilted, amber eyes, but truthfully, I was too busy whimpering under a hastily acquired bag of ice to appreciate his attributes to the fullest.

We joked about it later, laughing as we curled together in the night.

“You made quite the impression.” I would say.

“On your head.” He'd laugh, running his fingers through my hair. “Glad I didn't hurt anything too vital.”

I'd snort, playing at being offended. “Are you talking to me, Turk boy.”

“Yes I am, geek.” He'd smile a smile that always made me smile back.

“Geek? Who are you calling geek, cannon fodder?” I'd be grinning like an idiot, feeling the days tension melting away into his warmth.

“Oh, did I say geek? I meant nerd.”

Not the wittiest of repartee, but it would be late, we'd be tired, and it reminded us how little beginnings could grow into fond memories. But that came later.

You wouldn't want me to skip over things, would you?

I thought not.

So, where was I? Oh, yes, the door, my head.

I had just put my fingers on that paper clip and he swung the door open. I suppose I would have been better off if I hadn't heard the click of the latch and turned my head to look. The door knob wouldn't have impacted with my temple and the damage would have been somewhat lessened. I suppose, and I would find this out later,I would have been even luckier if he hadn't been irritated about being assigned as bodyguard to a scientist. He, thanks to his late father, had a healthy loathing of all science related people, and being him, and being irritated, he swung the door open a bit harder than was called for.

He was very apologetic. Nearly killing the person you are assigned to protect is actually frowned on in the Turks. They have a lot of, shall we say, unique habits, but they took their assignments seriously. When he realized that there was a moaning body behind the door that greatly resembled the person he was assigned to, he handled it well. I was quickly shuffled off to a nearby couch with an ice pack for my head and a physician jittering nervously about being near an irritated Turk.

If you believe the rumors, you would expect me to say I hated him from that moment and started plotting how to get my revenge.

Actually, I was amused. I was also in pain, but watching him stand there glowering at the poor physician was really funny. It wasn't like it was her fault that he'd nearly brained me with a door. Yet, there he stood glaring, fingering his oversized gun, and shifting about in short, sharp motions. The poor woman was nearly in tears.

And yes, I had a sense of humor, and no, it wasn't a warped, sadistic sense of humor where I laughed only if some poor soul was screaming in unbelievable agony. Honesty, the rumors…

Ah, I'm getting distracted again.

After awhile the throbbing in my head subsided somewhat, and the physician was allowed to retreat to her department to update her résumé and dream of working someplace where Turks didn't roam the halls. He stoically escorted me back to my lab and proceeded to hover. He was an accomplished hoverer. He managed to simultaneously be directly in my way, yet completely out of my way. It was grating. It sent quivers of tension up my back.

You will probably note that Turks stay away from me now. I have dedicated a great deal of time discouraging Turkish hovering. After her, I was a bit more direct about my preference. I figured that if I couldn't have him hover over me, I was not going to let some half-wit take his place. Really, the Turks Tseng has allowed into the organization. Disgraceful. Absolutely disgraceful. I blame Veld, actually. He let the organization slide during his last few years. He should have retired.

So, he hovered and I worked.

You might notice here that I haven't given you dialog. This isn't a mistake. He didn't talk. I was actually wondering if I'd been assigned a mute. Mind you I wasn't exactly chatty. Between the pain in my temple and the residual pain from traumatized jaw muscles, talking was low on my to-do list. I was basically just trying to get my work done as quickly as possible so I could go home, take many pain killers, and collapse on my couch.

It wasn't until Professor Gast came in to the room that I realized that my hoverer could talk. I was at my desk, trying to get my bleary eyes to focus on a report. -Ah, vanity. I was still resisting getting glasses.- My Turk was frowning at my back, no doubt wishing to be far from my presence, and all was quickly degenerating into a complete waste of a good day, when Gast decided to grace us with his almighty and beneficent presence.

You might note the sarcasm here.

At the time, I was too naive to note just what a bastard he was. I still respected him then. I still considered him one of the top scientists of our age. I grew out of it fast, but fresh from Bone Village, I had stars in my eyes. I believed in him.

Oh, you listen to that failed clone, or even -and you don't know how it pains me to say this- him, and you will think Gast was a great person who strove for the betterment of the planet and the good of all man and woman kind.

He was a complete bastard. That ancient, the pure blood, do you honestly think she was willing? She was a cringing wreck by the time I killed her dearest beloved. He had hunted her down, experimented on her, raped her to impregnate her with his child, forced her to marry him so he would have control of the baby, and made it all complete by having her call him “darling.” Honestly, it made my stomach turn. People blame me for her death, but she was already dying from his experiments. I did try to save her -not too hard, to be honest- but the long term damage done to her internal organs from his clumsy mako injections had been irreparable. She died of liver failure on a train platform in the slums. He daughter, the last Cetra, would have followed her mother. I managed to mitigate most of the damage, and her young body had a lot more recuperative powers than her mother's, but she had only a year or two left to live when that idiot clone “freed” her from my care. Pity that, I was closing in on a cure. Unhappily, the cure would have been fatal for the wolf-cat.

Ah, choices, choices…

Also, who do you think came up with the idea of mako reactors? I sure didn't. I specialized in biochemistry. The amount of engineering that went into the creation of those monstrosities was completely beyond me. Oh, I could use them, but only Gast had the required knowledge and the research staff to create them. But he gets hailed as a great man whose heart wanted only the best for the Planet, and I get loathed.

Life's a bitch.

Anyway, in he came to smile benevolently at my aching self and my stalwart shadow.

“Hello Vincent.”

I looked up surprised. Vincent? He has a name?

My hoverer gave my boss a short, polite nod. “Good day, director.”

I must have looked even more surprised. Will wonders never cease? He talks.

Gast came over and gave my Turk a fatherly pat on the shoulder. “I heard there was a bit of an accident.”

My Turk, Vincent, gave a serious nod. “My fault, sir. I opened the door and didn't realize he was behind it till it was too late.”

Gast, the wonderful, gave a warm, comforting chuckle. “Not many people spend time idling behind doors.”

I blushed in embarrassment, not sure how to take this teasing. Gast had that effect on me at that time. Hero worship. Really, I wish I could go back in time and slap myself.

“Sir,” I managed to get my sore jaw to work. “I don't idle behind doors.”

He came over and gave me a gentle pat on the back. “Oh, don't take things so seriously.”

Now, looking back, I'm surprised he didn't pat me on the head and give me a doggie treat. People really were little more than animals to him.

He looked over at the work I was finishing up. It was an initial report on the feasibility of genetic modification to enhance military performance. I was a bit leery of the methodology, and the ethics, of the project. Oh, I got over that in time; she was a good teacher. However, at that time, I didn't like the idea of taking military personnel and experimenting on them. If you tick off the military, who are you going to lean on when enemies attack?

I had seen too much, growing up in Wutai. Gordo, who at that time was still a young man, had problems controlling the military. His father had been a strong-arm dictator, and had expanded Wutai's boundaries onto the western continent, annexing the area around Rocket Town and making a few overtures about “liberating” Nibelheim from the barbarous masses. Gordo was overpowered by his generals when he first came to the throne. The military had its agenda, and Gordo basically handed them everything they wanted. If they wanted to raze a village or two off the map to improve civic mindfulness, Gordo nodded and made a few patriotic speeches. If they wanted to parade massive weapons through town to bully the local populace into meek submission, Gordo provided the flags. A childhood of anxiously wondering when the soldiers would come and burn your house down tends to stay with you.

But enough.

He looked over my report and gave me a paternal smile. “Take the rest of the day off.” He turned to Vincent. “Make sure he gets home okay, and see him settled.”

My Turk nodded and gave him a salute. “Yes, sir.”

Before I was ready, I had my coat wrapped around my shoulders, by briefcase scooped off the floor by my Turk, and was bustled out of the office and out of the building.

Hindsight being what it is, I am somewhat suspicious of Vincent's abrupt appearance in my life. Shinra didn't waste money and Vincent was a very valuable employee. He would, in a matter of months, be promoted to the head of his department. My position, extravagant as it seemed to me at the time, didn't even rate one of the luxurious apartments Shinra provided for their top people. My safety was hardly in danger, but there was Vincent trundling me along the sidewalk to my little apartment like an overanxious nanny.

And did he talk to me? No.

He was cold, efficient, and by the time we reached my home, I felt he really needed to lighten up, get a life, buy a pet hamster, or something. There was a definite lack of life in his life.

He never smiled, never paused to look at the myriad small beauties that I still gaped at, nothing. He just stoically trudged along, suspiciously eyeing everyone in sight, and silently looming at my shoulder like my own personal death angel.

He scared the shit out of the little girl in the downstairs apartment. I spent weeks afterwards reassuring her that Vincent wasn't going to shoot her, her parents, her goldfish, or her plants. Vincent apparently was allowed to shoot her big brother, but I failed to mention that to him.

I stood at my door, that first day, and listened to her crying to her mother about the terrible man with the gun, and fumbled for my key while Vincent made himself useful by standing behind me being menacing. After dropping my keys a couple of times, nearsightedly peering at each key, and cursing myself for not color coding them, I finally got the door open and stumbled into my apartment.

Vincent politely shoved me the rest of the way through the door and strode off to make a security sweep of the place while I wobbled to the kitchen for a tall glass of water to take my pain medication and recover from a day of being in his care. He spent time poking here and there, scrutinizing everything for hidden explosives or some such. I didn't care at that point. If he wanted to inspect rolls of toilet paper, I figured it kept him from hovering, looming, or silently standing at my side like an ill-omened buzzard eyeing a stray chocobo chick. I had just stretched out on my sofa and settled my aching head down on a pillow when he came back to stare ominously down on me. I tried to ignore him, but he, as I pointed out, was a master hoverer. I could feel him hovering over me spreading gloom throughout my warm, cozy home.

I opened my eyes to meet his look. “Yes?”

“Your apartment has too many points where security could easily be breached.” He informed me.

“Good for my apartment.” I closed my eyes wishing him and the rest of the Turk organization away. At that point, I really thought if all Turks were as anal retentive as Vincent, they should all go to Costa del Sol and get laid.

He sighed. Over the time I knew Vincent, I learned his vocabulary of sighs. He had one for nearly every possible occasion. He had sighs that meant: you are a dumb ass; or you dress like a dork; or you ate the last cookie again, didn't you; or give me back the covers; or, the one I was most favored with, why haven't I shot you yet. This one, even to my beginner ears, sounded like the first.

I opened my eyes to give him the best glare I could summon at that point in time. “Same to you.”

He, surprise, surprise, frowned down at me. “I will have to request that you be moved to a more secure location.”

He made my head ache, both literally and figuratively, so I closed my eyes again. “Go away.”

“I have been assigned to you till the end of the work day.” Vincent said in a serious, steady voice.

Joy. Joy.

He spent a few more minutes looming, then ambled off to spread joy to other parts of my small abode. I woke up a few hours later to see him slipping out my door like a shadow. I spent a moment wondering if I was going to have his dour presence inflicted on me the next day then turned and went back to sleep.

Not only did I have him inflict himself on me the next day, but every day for months afterwards. The first thing in the morning, I would get out of bed, start brewing my coffee, and open the door to get the morning paper to find him standing there holding it. He'd come in, spread cheer and merriment through my morning routine, escort me to work, hover over me all day, then walk me home. He rarely spoke. He never smiled. He just was there.

I spent hours conjecturing on what childhood blight could cause such a personality defect, if you could even call the lack of a personality a personality defect. I argued with that semantic for awhile, whether something could be defective if it didn't exist. When I got tired of that, I moved on to imagining a plethora of horrors that could have affected him. As the months went by and I acquired friends, the fellowship of fellow Shinra employees, and even, yes, a lover, I had an informal betting pool speculating on what tragedy had happened to him. I was betting on his younger brother dying in a tragic accident. My lover, a petite blond woman named Sherrise, put money on his mother tragically sending him off to Shinra because she was going to lose the farm, and so he sacrificed his happiness so Buttercup, the old family chocobo who once saved him from a blizzard, wouldn't be stableless. My drinking buddies bet on his personality being surgically amputated in some freaky Turk initiation ceremony.

In the end, we were all disappointed when he finally vanished from my life with as much warning as he entered it. One day he was hovering. The next day, I opened the front door to find I had to get my own morning paper. He'd been promoted, and I was left to drink my coffee, read my paper, and walk to work without my gloomy side-kick.

The romantics of the world might think that I missed him. Believe it when I say I didn't. The cynics, looking at our history together, might think that his life would have been better if we had never met again. That's a more difficult response to dispose of flippantly. Looking at what was already set in motion, I could easily claim that my life would have been better if we had never met again, but his would have been immeasurably worse.

I still had the chance, you see, to dodge the proverbial bullet that she was, even then, aiming at him. If our paths hadn't crossed again, he, and he alone, would have been hit. Oh, we all would have felt the repercussions of that shot, but he would have taken the full blast of it. But I didn't dodge. I tried to step in the way, to shield him, to save him.

In the end, I just damned us both.

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