Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Once a Man ❯ The Beginning of the Beginning ( Chapter 4 )

Once a Man

Chapter 4: The Beginning of the Beginning

Living with Vincent is far different than being guarded by him. Oh, technically, he was still on duty, but since we were now inhabiting the same domicile, things about him that I hadn't noticed before started becoming apparent.

First thing you must understand is that he is as clean as a cat. He honestly can't stand being dirty. Oh, he doesn't mind things like wrinkled clothing, or as any can see by his present day wardrobe, torn clothing, but he passionately hates dirt. By noon of the second day in my happy little skull, the entire place was immaculately clean.

I had innocently left him to his own devices, which I thought would be lurking and looming around and growling moodily into his phone to his second in command. The Turks were thrown into chaos by their leader's sudden posting to the arctic wastes and he was fielding phone calls at an astounding rate beginning in the wee hours of the morning. I left him to his job and went to see where the “boys” were discovering the sample.

I had made my own phone calls and had requested the equipment that I would need to analyze the ooze that was now swirling around its pickle jar on my table. Knowing Shinra the way I did, I figured I would receive an answer to my request sometime between next spring, five months away, and the end of the world, which I hadn't spent any time calculating, figuring, mistakenly as it turned out, that I would be thousands of years dead by that time and so I wouldn't have to worry about it.

I, by the way, win the contest for the most rebellious son in all history. Mine was sent off to military academy and still tried to blow up the world in a fit of angst. I would dare you to top that, but the consequences of your succeeding just make me shiver. Contrary to popular opinion, I don't desire the world to be destroyed. I am a logical man (most of the time) and destroying the planet you are standing on would be rather bone headed, wouldn't it?

So I had trudged off, leaving my house to my new roommate, and went off to find Davies. I had a fine time catching up with the diggers that hung out around Davies' office and then went off with them to the excavation pits to see where they had been finding the sample.

I am not big on archaeology. I am a biochemist. My previous sojourn in Bone Village had been to do a biological survey of the common Tewit. In case you are wondering a Tewit is a medium size bird that nests on the coast near Bone Village and is the primary diet of the vlakorados. They are most fascinating for their ability to regenerate missing limbs and their ability to puff into large, rather frightening masses of porcupine like feathers. The fact that they reproduce at an astounding rate is also rather interesting, but not so interesting that I was going to spend more time freezing in Bone Village, rubbing shoulders with sweaty diggers, and dating my hand to study their sex life. When I realized that Bettina was looking like a viable sexual partner, I started sending out my resume.

Anyways, I tramped out to the mud pits and made appropriately impressed sounds. The archaeologists proudly demonstrated their mudslinging abilities and I kept well back out of slinging range. They didn't find any more sample bits, so I gave them another round of ooohs and aaaahs, and escaped back to my skull.

My immaculately clean, shinny skull.

I'm sure that if I had been gone longer, and he'd had decent clothing, he would have polished the outside of my skull into a mellow shine. As it was, the floors were swept and mopped, the walls had been washed down, the curtain around my bed had been washed and re-hung, the cabinets, bookcases, chairs, beds, counters, and table were all spotlessly clean and smelling faintly of furniture polish, and the bedding was now neat and straight. He even cleaned the windows that were in the eye sockets of the skull.

I passed it off at the time as boredom. That one fit, highly active Turk being confined in a small skull in Bone Village took out all his excess energy in a cleaning orgy. It was odd, but understandable. Only later did I realize that it was really just him. I sometimes wonder how he managed to survive on the Highwind with all that grease and grime and no way to clean it. He must have been terribly frustrated. Honestly, I don't know which one got more of my sympathy, Vincent for having to live with all that dirt, or Mr. Highwind for having to live with Vincent living with all that dirt. It couldn't have been pleasant.

When I finished gaping at my newly clean home, I found Vincent grumbling into is phone about security patrols and idly trying to wipe the accumulated soot off my fireplace.

“Wow. You do windows.” I brilliantly noted then even more brilliantly dove back outside as my newly appointed housecleaner pointed a gun at me. True, Turks in general don't shoot the people they are assigned to guard, but his orders were rather vague and neither of us were sure if he was supposed to guard me, the sample, or just hang around and intimidate the diggers into digging faster.

I stayed away for a whole hour before I stuck my nose back in. He'd calmed down into a slow burn and was taking it out on some poor lackey who'd idiotically thought he could slack off since the boss was out of town. I learned later that the man took his early severance pay from the Turks, which is the nice way of saying he was taken down to the incinerator room and used to heat the 49th floor.

I was also smart enough to bring a bribe with me in the form of a warm duffle coat. It was even in Turk blue and had a collar similar to the one of his uniform jacket. He looked at it and me, sighed (Translation: Okay, you get to live for another hour, but don't press it), and snarled a few unprintable words at the soon to be heating fuel on the other end of the line.

I happily poked at the specimen, which as you may have noticed I hadn't named yet, and went to my refrigerator (my blindingly clean refrigerator) and dug around for a drink. That's one of my problems whenever I indulge in too much alcohol, I spend the next day guzzling liquid like a traveler that just hiked on foot to Cosmo Canyon. After acquiring my beverage (Cosmo Cola: See the Stars!) I poked into the cupboard (now even the cans glowed with a clean mellow shine) and found a can of chocobo stew and dumplings and dumped the contents into a pot (gleaming) and set in on the stove (my thoroughly cleaned and sanitized stove).

Vincent finished his phone call by calling the other a few rather creative things and went to glower at the fireplace. The fire was unimpressed, but since it kept him from glowering at me, I left him to it. It was right about then I discovered the second thing that one should always keep in mind about Vincent.

Vincent is brilliant.

I know. Right now, he still believes the babble she prattled so viciously in his ears, but whether he believes it or not, he is one of the most intelligent people I've ever met. Oh, he's not going to head up Shinra's scientific department anytime soon, and emotionally he was (and sadly still is) about as inept as a man could get, but his mind's capabilities are easily on par with, or, in my rather biased opinion, far in excess of that of his father, and his father was no slouch in the intellectual game.

“You're sample seems to react to people's emotions.” He said it while still trying to stare the fire into submission.

“Hmmm?” I blinked out of whatever thoughts I'd fallen into while stirring our lumpy meal.

He nodded over his shoulder to where the sample oozed around its container. “It reacts to emotions.”

I blinked a few more times trying to get my brain to wrap around that information and where the information was coming from. In my defense, I had not yet realized whose son I was talking to, and after spending a year in Shinra's employ, I had learned Turks in general were a rather dull, violent lot that were good at observing, but poor at coming up with a intelligent conclusion as to what their observations meant. Vincent's comment set me back a moment as my reality rewrote itself.

I went over to the sample and lifted the jar. It didn't look like it was reacting to anything. “How can you tell.”

He sighed (Translation: You owe me for this) and came over taking the sample out of my hands. “Watch.”

He took a deep breath and frowned, his eyes narrowing angrily. At first there was nothing then the sample started rippling oddly. He let his breath out, visibly calming himself and in a few seconds the sample went back to its oozing.

He handed it back to me. “Depending on the emotion, it reacts in different ways. Try it.”

I did. I spent the rest of the afternoon trying it out watching as the sample swirled in circles when I was happy, rippled when I was angry, and went still when I got sad. It was actually quite entertaining. At least it was to me. He found it rather boring, took his new duffle coat and went off to inspire the diggers to find more sample pieces.

I didn't hear him leave, and I didn't know when he got back. I vaguely remember a bowl of overcooked chocobo and dumpling stew being placed on top of the growing pile of written data that I was frantically scribbling, and I remember at some point a warm blanket being wrapped around my shoulders, but I everything else was just lost in the wonder of research.

Vincent was absolutely correct. The sample reacted to emotion. I couldn't do a detailed study of this phenomenon since my equipment was still on its glacially slow trek from Shinra to Bone Village. I did manage to write up reams of observational data that I was sure Gast would cackle gleefully over as he rushed to President Shinra to take all the credit for the discovery.

I woke from my scientific haze to find myself tucked in bed with the sample sitting on the nightstand next to me. At the time, I didn't know better. Now, I would have it secured in a vault under layers of shielding, and been asleep on another continent. I hated when President Shinra ordered Jenova's relocation to Midgar. I much preferred it sitting behind layers of shields, with a huge sign over a heavy, multi-locked door, in the middle of a reactor, on the top of a mountain, in the back end of nowhere, on the other side of another continent. The moment Jenova made her entrance into Midgar, I gave up sleeping and started writing my resignation to spend time in Costa del Sol (which you may note is on another continent.) I would have gone to Wutai, but I still had very painful memories of vacationing there with Vincent.

He loved Wutai. He'd step onto Wutai's soil and it seemed all the tension he'd been storing in his body would leave him in one huge rush. Whenever I noted that he came home more bloody than usual, I would start making arrangements for a vacation there. After a few days, my dangerous Turk would turn into a puddle of contented, smiling mush. He'd be nearly purring in happiness from too much dim sum, sake, and sex.

In the darkest of the dark time to come, when he was delirious from the treatments, I would sit on the floor cradling him in my arms, whispering promises that we would go back there and he could wear the soft bright silks he so adored, and we'd sit, drink fine sake and eat those tiny morsels that came on tiny, delicate plates, and he could sleep on those ridiculously hard mats they laid on the floor, and he could sleep in late, and we'd go climbing Da-chao, and thousands of other promises to hopelessly try to push the dark away from both of us. It never happened. At that point even I knew there was no repairing what she'd done, and the best I could hope for was that I could still find some way to release him from her plans.

Anyway, I sat up that morning with the sample swirling sluggishly in its jar and a huge pile of research notes that I blearily remembered composing. Vincent was gone and outside the eye windows I could see a heavy snow falling. I tumbled out of bed and wobbled aimlessly around my little abode trying to get my mind to coalesce back together into some form of coherence.

I eventually found my way to my table and managed to package up my reports to send off to Gast. After, I made my way to the kitchen (annoyingly clean kitchen) and found a cup of instant noodles that seemed good enough for breakfast.

I ambled around slurping my noodles and finally managed to find my small music player and set it up to play some tunes. Vincent had put it away in a drawer. I wondered if it was a commentary on my musical choices. I love jazz, and through the years, I have found that people either love it, are puzzled by it, or detest it. Vincent, as it turned out, prefers either hard, ear jarring rock, or soft classical flute ensembles. He is one of the puzzled when it comes to jazz. It balanced though since I was one of the puzzled when it came to the rock. How can something that angry be soothing?

I was just sitting filling out the paperwork that was required for every report that whizzed through Shinra's mindless mail department when Vincent arrived back with a young archaeologist tagging worshipfully at his heels. He would find the only cute archaeologist in Bone Village (and probably the world since archaeologist aren't generally known to be a good looking bunch) and have her slavishly worshiping the air he breathed. And Vincent, being him, dimwittedly didn't realize that if he only looked her in the eye for just a moment she'd fling her naked body on the floor and plead to bear his children. Happily, he was busy being Vincent and he never even glanced at her.

And he called me clueless. Pot, kettle, Vincent.

“If you need anything else, please let me know.” She had a medium size brown cardboard box held in her arms that she set on the floor.

He nodded, “Thank you.”

“I'll keep an eye on the others and let you know if anyone starts slacking off.” She smiled at him with an expression of complete adoration. “You can count on me.”

I could guess that there were a few other things she'd be willing to have him do on her, but Vincent just sighed (Translation: I said thank you, now go away.) She didn't understand Vincent Sigh Language though and kept standing there worshiping.

“It must be so exciting being a Turk.” She tried for conversation.

Unfortunately for her, she was trying it with the wrong person. Vincent can be very chatty…when drunk off his ass. He also can and likes to have long conversations, but only with people he knows and feels comfortable with. I have always thought it rather interesting that Avalanche believes him to be the strong, silent type that rarely talks.

Vincent sighed again (Translation: Little fly go away or be swatted), so I stepped in to save her from finding out just how exciting a Turk could really be, or he got irritated enough to look her in the eye and instigate the naked female on the floor scene. Now, I have no personal dislike of naked women writhing about on my floor (my clean, glossy floor), but I rather like to be on a first name basis with the woman doing the writhing before she begins.

“Thank you for brining that.” I got out of my chair, causing her to startle.

She'd been so focused on the wonder that was Vincent that she never noticed me. Poor thing. I can't blame her. She was young, probably an intern fresh from college, and stuck in Bone Village with its freeze dried inhabitants and dirty, sweaty diggers. Vincent walking through town must have been like watching a young god visiting the lower realms.

“Oh, hello.” She backed away, glancing longingly at Vincent.

I gave her a friendly smile and nodded to the box. “What's in it?”

“I don't know. It came in this morning.” She deflated a bit as Vincent walked away to warm himself in front of the fire then she turned and started eyeing me.

I suppose the fact that I was clean was a big attraction. I definitely was no competition with Vincent in the looks department. I also must say I wasn't entirely unpleased with her interest. Having lived in Bone Village, I knew a young, pretty, non-fish smelling lady was a hard commodity to come by. If Vincent didn't want to take advantage of her interest, I was more than happy to take his leftovers.

“Probably things we forgot.” I gave her a charming shrug and a boyish scratch on the back of my head. “I never seem to pack what I need.”

She gave me a smile. “Me too. My mom had to send boxes of things to me when I got here.”

I ratcheted my estimate of her age down from early twenties to just barely out of jail bait age. I'd have to check with Davies though just to make sure I wouldn't suddenly get slapped with statutory rape charges.

I gave her a small chuckle. “I wish my mother would do that for me.”

Actually, at that time my mother was still alive and well in Wutai and would often send care packages. She never believed that anyone out of Wutai could feed her little boy, so every week I got boxes of steamed dumplings, all kinds of stir fried dishes, delicately folded stuffed wontons, rolls with various fillings, barbecued meats, fragrant rice, and containers of soup. Before Vincent, I would eat a meal or two and freeze the rest, which eventually got tossed out to make room for more of her food. When he settled himself into my life, he would eagerly wait for those packages and greet them with cries of heartfelt joy. When the two finally met, he nearly got on his knees and worshiped her. They got along terrifically.

I've noticed, the few times I've managed to visit her grave, that someone leaves tokens and incense. Since all her friends have passed away and I'm her last living relative that only leaves one other person that still loves her enough to leave those things. I'd thank him, but he'd probably shoot me again, so I'll just let the matter stand as it is.

Meg, my newly acquired friend and maybe more, and I talked for a few more minutes then I bundled into my coat and urged her out the door before Vincent either figured out that he just brushed off the best sexual partner he was likely to find in Bone Village, or got annoyed with our talking and shot us both.

I won't tire you with the ancient song and dance that men and women have been dancing since the dawn of time. Suffice to say I spent the day attracting a partner, and she spent the day being attracted. By the time I tumbled into the door covered in snow, I was already planning how to bed Meg without Vincent lurking around, and Meg was off looking over her scanty lingerie and seeing if her camp cot would comfortably fit two active people.

Vincent was settled on the fireplace's step reading when I finished brushing off. He seemed content enough in the firelight, so I left him to his entertainment and ambled off to the tiny bathroom for a warm shower. By the time I had worked out my problems and could feel my toes again, he was already asleep.

I spent a bit of time sitting by the fire letting my hair dry. It was short back then, so it really didn't take very long. He made a few little murmuring sounds in his sleep but otherwise everything was quiet enough that I could hear the hiss of the snow as it fell against the windows. While I still wasn't happy to be back in Bone Village living with Vincent, right then I was content. I was warm. I had a good roommate. I had a prospective lover. And I had my work.

I sometimes wonder. If I could travel back in time, when would I go.

I would go there. I would go there and weave a few lies to Vincent about a crazy, evil girl with an angel's face (they actually wouldn't be lies) and how dangerous she was to me and to Shinra. I would then make sure he found her, shot her, and we'd both live happily for the rest of our lives. Maybe I would kill her myself and make sure Vincent never came close to her. I am good with a gun. Vincent didn't like me to wander around unarmed, so he patiently taught me to shoot and insisted I carry a weapon. I could kill her and I'm sure Vincent would take care of any lingering suspicions that might ensue. Yes, that is where I would go. There when everything was before us, bright and new and unblemished.

 

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