Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Only When It Rains ❯ Chapter One ( Chapter 1 )

Chapter 1

Vincent stood in the crypt of the old ShinRa mansion. His red eyes stared dully at the empty coffin where he had slept for so many years. Even now he wondered if being awoken by Cloud and his friends has been a blessing or an even crueler joke dealt to him by eternal fate.

Still, he couldn't say he regretted what had happened. He'd been able to assuage a very small part of his grief and guilt about Lucretia's death... not that he ever could or would forgive himself. He was a man who had once been able to kill at the drop of a hat and feel nothing. Even know he could kill just has easily. Yet, the grief and guilt, whether earned or not, haunted him every waking moment.

Five years had passed since they'd destroyed Hojo and his cursed son Sephiroth. Five lonely years in which Vincent had wandered without a direction. He knew the others from the group had returned to their various homes. But Vincent had no home. He hadn't had one in a long time.

So Vincent, quite arguably the most displaced man alive, had wandered the world he'd been out of touch with for so long. Now his ceaseless footsteps has brought him back to Nibelheim. Back to where his nightmare had begun.

He hadn't wanted to come here. He had too many memories here...memories of Lucretia, the experiment... her death. To everyone else he was stoic, unemotional and cold. He had long ago stopped thinking about himself as human in anyway. Except for maybe the horrible soul-killing grief and guilt he carried. But that didn't mean he enjoyed opening old wounds.

His red eyes traced the coffin for a moment in silence. Slowly he walked forward, his heavy, metal, pointed boot making a faint clicking on the barren stones. He ran his gloved hand over the coffin, his bed and prison for so long. He closed his eyes for a moment thinking back. It was hard and wooden. Cold and tight. No room to move hardly any air to breathe. It was the closest he'd ever come to actual death...

Vincent didn't let his revelry last long. With a heave he overturned the coffin, listening to it crash hollowly to the ground. It had silently taunted him from the moment he'd seen it again. Taunted him to crawl back in and close the lid. But he refused to fall into that bleak, horrendous, deathlike state ever again. He'd done it once before and people had suffered. He wouldn't go back.

With that thought he turned on his heel and silently left the crypt that used to be his personal hell. He closed the door grating and locked it tight. Cloud had given him the key a long time ago and he'd held onto it for reasons he hadn't understood. But that didn't matter now. Vincent Valentine was done with Nibelheim, the ShinRa mansion and the dark, dank crypt. He turned and started to walk up the hallway towards the stairs. He didn't even bother glancing at the library. Only more awful memories laid there. Besides there was nothing of value for him left there anymore.

He slowly trekked up the spiraling stairway lost in his own thoughts. He was tired mentally but not physically. The visit to his former place of rest had tired him because it had reminded him of what he had been, what he had lost, and his separation from the world. He dragged his mind from that and focused on his current plan, which was to leave Nibelheim and never look back. He never wished to see the wretchedly small town again. He planned to trek through the mountains to Rocket Town and visit his closest friend from the insane adventure of five years ago, Cid.

Vincent was walking along the hallway towards the stairs, his mind lost in contemplation. His arms, both metallic and flesh, were crossed over his chest. He ambled towards the stairs in no apparent rush, his mind very far from the present. A sudden mad pounding on the front door was so entirely unexpected that it was enough to make the stoic and infallible ex-Turk jump. Vincent paused wondering if he's just imagined the pounding. But then his sharpened ears heard a plaintive wail before another horrendous crash of lightning obliterated all sound.

While down in the crypt who knew how long, he hadn't seen, noticed or felt the storm rage up. Now he saw it brutally lash at the house without mercy. It attacked and ravished everything has if the mansion's mere existence angered it. That is dared to stand before its wraith. And someone was outside in it.

Without another thought Vincent ran down the first flight of steps. He by-passed the other curved stairway simply jumping down to the floor. He landed silently, instantly running towards the door.

When he reached the large wooden door her grabbed the knob and pulled it open. Another streak of lightning slashed the sky ripping it easily. In the moment of nearly blinding light he saw a woman slumped against the doorframe. She had a wiggling bundle tightly clamped in her arms and drawn almost painfully close to her chest.

Vincent's cold stoic face never registered any surprise even though he felt a great deal. Even when the woman's body tumbled foreword towards him. Reflexively Vincent held up his arms and caught her easily. He dragged the limp woman inside. He could feel how almost painful thin and frail she was. Her skin was almost deathly cold and wet, he could feel it through his clothing. He gently laid her down on the front carpet, making sure she was still alive and not frozen.

Quickly he dashed back to the door, slamming it shut tightly. The entire entryway was cold and wet now. The storm and rain had tried to follow the poor woman inside the old, gloomy house. Even as Vincent's red eyes coolly surveyed the unconscious trembling woman on the floor the rain howled with greater fury. It buffeted the windows and doors searching for entrance enraged that someone had dared to take its prey from it.

Vincent calmly walked over and looked down at the nearly frozen woman who had seemed to appear out of nowhere. In the light of the lamps he could see the woman much more clearly. She had long, golden hair that was now plastered to her head in long ringlets. Her skin was almost white, no doubt from the cold. Her tattered clothing was so water logged it had molded to her entire body, revealing every curve she had.

His red eyes skimmed over her has he contemplated how this woman had ended up in the rain the old ShinRa mansion. She evidently wasn't a local villager because they all still avoided the house. And if she was from Nibelheim why hadn't she sought shelter and help down there? They would have no doubt helped her. He was rudely snapped out of his brooding thoughts by a piercing cry. His blood colored eyes shifted to the clothe bundle the woman clutched woodenly.

He dropped to one knee heedless of the cold water it landed in. He placed his gloved hand on the bundle and carefully removed the young woman's arms with his claw. Once it was free he stood up holding the small bundle in his hand. It was an unassuming, white woolen blanket that was sopping wet. He used his claw to gingerly peel back the wet blanket. There were several holes in the blanket but Vincent didn't know what caused them. Underneath the first blanket there was a wet fluffy pink one. In one corner her saw an unusual symbol embroidered. He squinted, the symbol vaguely familiar, but he couldn't remembered where he had seen it before. His eyes widened when he felt the blanket suddenly wriggle. He quickly peeled back the second blanket and blinked in astonishment when he saw what the woman had clutched so tightly.

There, in his hand, he held a small and loudly squealing baby of no more than a few months. For a moment Vincent merely blink. He peered cautiously at the child. It had soft green eyes and platinum blonde hair falling in soft ringlets. The child was wet, its meager shield of blankets little protection against the driving rain. The child, upon seeing the man with the long black hair held back by a red bandana and blood red eyes peering at it, it burst into new sobs.

Vincent was a very educated man. He could converse on innumerable subjects and could hold his own quite well. He had hardly in his long life felt at a loss in any situation. But, holding a squalling child whose (he assumed) mother was passed out on the rug, Vincent realized he didn't know what to do. He was quite simply...flabbergasted.

"Uh ok... calm down baby... don't cry... everything's ok..." His attempts to calm down the baby only seemed to make it squawk more. He tried to rock it or bounce it but the cries only became more hysterical.

With a heavy sigh Vincent shifted the child to the crook of his elbow, giving up any attempt to soothe it. He leaned down and grasped the unconscious woman's shirt in his claw and effortlessly flipped her over onto his shoulder. He walked up the stairs, barely hindered by the weight he carried. He turned into the first bedroom her saw, dumping the woman on the bed and setting the baby on a chair where it squawked more.

He started a fire in the old grate before walking over to the woman. Already her skin had started to burn with fever. Vincent quickly and efficiently removed her soaked clothes. and wrapped her up in a blanket. He picked her up using his metal arm to support her back his other arm under her knees. He gently set her down by the warm fire so that it would start to thaw out her frozen limbs. She still trembled all over. Next, Vincent walked over to the chair and picked up the baby, who had, by now, stopped crying, too exhausted to continue. He removed the last blanket and the child's dirty and damp jumper. It stank of human excrement, making his face wrinkle in disgust. He turned away from the baby girl as he tossed the soiled clothing away.

He quickly wrapped her up in another blanket and walked over to the fire, dragging a chair with him. He sat down cradling, the exhausted baby in his arms. At least the damn thing stopped crying, Vincent thought. He watched the fire idly, every so often glancing at the sleeping baby and her still unconscious mother. The fire had done the poor woman good. She was slowly starting to regain color but her eyes never opened. And no discernible emotion flickered across Vincent's calm, aloof face. Soon the woman was devoured by her fever. She thrashed on the ground and the storm, almost as if it were mimicking her, lashed out with renewed fury.

Vincent just watched, calm and collected, from his chair, still holding the baby. Soon she started to babble but it was so fast and nonsensical, as to baffle the mind. Also the storm crashed, trying to drown out her frantic words. Through all the din Vincent was only able to make out one phrase that she constantly repeated. "Only when it rains... Only when it rains."

A frown creased Vincent's brow has he listened. Slowly he stood up, quietly walking over to the bed where he gently laid the sleeping girl down. Mercifully, she didn't wake up and start crying. He then strode back to the fireplace and knelt by the woman. He loosened the blanket from her fevered body.

If Vincent had really looked (or even thought like that) he would surely have noticed how beautiful the woman was. Her hair shown in the firelight which it gave it red highlights. Her skin was pale, smooth, and virtually flawless. Her body was slim and curved correctly everywhere. Her face was almost angelic except that it was twisted in horrible pain.

Vincent only knelt their watching her fevered face, straining his ears to her ravings. Still all he could make out was that garbled phrase 'only when it rains'. Its meaning was entirely lost on him. Everything else she said was swallowed by the storm or just garbled mutterings.

He pulled off his glove and rested his on her forehead. It was burning up and he knew then that she would never survive more than a day. He stayed by her through the night, doing what little her could to ease her pain. And still the storm raged on.

Finally as the storm slowly started to die down the woman made a last desperate grasp for her sanity. She opened magnetic violet eyes, fixing them on the silent, brooding and stoic man kneeling next to her. She weakly reached out and clutched his shirt attempting to bring him closer. Obliging he leaned closer to her has she spoke weakly.

"Take...Take care of my baby...Don't let him take her back. Back for tests. Promise..." It as such a sad, pitiful wish. The last wish of a desperate dying woman who'd run a long way to make sure her baby escaped her fate.

Silently, Vincent nodded to her request. He fixed his red eyes on her own violet ones making it known to her that he would keep her baby save no matter what. With a slight smile she dropped her hand and closed her eyes.

Outside their was a tremendous crash and a blinding flash. The baby awoke with a scream and when Vincent could at last refocused his eyes he saw the woman had died of her own fever. She looked peaceful in death, as though she had found rest. He gently pulled the blanket over her before her stood up. He walked over and gingerly picked up the squalling girl. He didn't know how to comfort this orphaned babe that was now his responsibility. Outside the storm quieted as though satiated. It had at last claimed it's victim.