Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Painful Miracles ❯ Fragments of two shattered hearts ( Chapter 15 )

Fragments of two shattered hearts

As it would happen to be, Fate knows of a certain young man that made nightly visits to the grave yard to set flowers on the unmarked graves as no one else ever bothered to even glance at the unwanted people under the ground. Unnamed does not mean unimportant.

The young man in question was turning the corner into the graveyard and making his way to the back of the grave yard where these graves were kept. He brushed a piece of red hair from his hansom face and blinked the cold from his violet eyes. He brought the bundle of red roses he was carrying to his nose and breathed in the beautiful sent of the blood colored flowers.

As he made his way to the back of the graveyard, several sneaky teenagers fled from behind graves as he approached them. People found him scary sometimes. They thought it weird that he visited the unmarked graves late at night and it didn't help that he had long, unruly red hair that settled at his hips, deep violet eyes and three scares on his right cheek and several on his arms, hands, and legs. People in Midgar never stayed around him long enough to find out the truth.

The truth was, he didn't know where he came from. He escaped from a lab when he was ten where they had done terrible things to him since he was genetically engineered and born. He was constantly haunted by the demons in his body that took him over sometimes and made him do evil things that frightened and hurt him as well. Thankfully no one was ever hurt because he constantly made sure he was away from others when this happened. The lab that experimented on him had genetically engineered him by using a fetus from a woman and demons from the plains of the world. Not even the darkest warriors made by ShinRa had that done to them. When he escaped they figured he wouldn't live without their care and medications and marked him as a failed and dead experiment. He was grateful for that. He had lived on his own and quite well for seven years now.

But when not posed by demons, he was a quiet, smart, and polite gentleman. He found comfort in taking flowers to the unmarked graves as it made him feel like he wasn't the only one people didn't care for or want.

He approached the graves and began setting fresh flowers where he had discarded the dead ones. He did this with care as to not offend the spirits with in the graves. Finally he made it to the last grave and noticed a small pool of blood behind it as he set down the last of the roses. He walked behind it to see the source of the blood.

He stared at what looked like a man that was breathing in shallow breaths and unconscious. .:Good, he's still alive:. He let out a heavy sigh and bent down to pick up the man in his arms. He did just this and was prepared to deal with the heaviness, but found the man quite light. The man was also shivering and he noted that this man might have hypothermia. The man also had quite a few cuts and gashes, not to mention bruises the size of golf balls. He was very glad he was good at first aid as he carried the man to his small apartment.

His apartment wasn't far away and he got there quickly. He unlocked the door and walked into the one-roomed apartment. The only other rooms were the bathroom, which was behind a wooden door and the kitchen. He took the man to his bed that was in between the far wall and a bookcase and laid him down. He grabbed the first aid kit and sewing kit from the bookshelf and sat down in a chair that he pulled to rest in front of the bed. He was prepared to undress a man, but came only to find something else as he pulled off the blood covered trench coat.

His breath caught in his throat as his violet eyes fell on the bloody bra covered chest. .:This man is a woman?!:. His mind screamed. His eyes wandered up and down the body, letting his fingers ghost lightly over silvery scars on the woman's arms, legs, wrists, chest, and a very large one on her neck that was usually covered by her trench coat. He wondered about the girls past and the story of every scar, but decided not to think about it. No scar had a happy tale. Then his eyes wandered up to the face that was covered by a red bandana and pulled the bandana of to see a pale, beautiful face.

The woman was beautiful. His heart did a little flutter as he looked her features over. Deep black eyelashes laid upon pale cheeks, slightly pinked from the cold, and ruby red lips parted, taking in jagged breaths. Her ebony hair flowed over the white pillow like oil spreading in the sea, and it was slightly caked with blood. In fact her whole body was covered in blood.

He decided it'd be best to look her over and fix her up before she died and her beautiful person was lost. He nodded to himself and went to the kitchen to get a bowl of warm water and then to the bathroom for some washrags and towels. He came back and began cleaning up the young woman and seeing to her cuts.

2 hours, 20 stitches, 10 feet of bandages and a few band-aids later, the girl was in a lot better shape then she had been two hours ago. He smiled at his almost flawless stitching and the patchwork of bandages covering the young beauty. He chuckled a bit as he reached for his small box of materia. He grabbed his Cure materia and moved it over her body. The sea blue glow cast shadows across his face as it enveloped her body in the warm light. Most of her small cuts healed almost instantly, but the larger, deeper ones remain and would take about a week to heal normally.

He replaced the materia in its satin bed in it's little box and returned to tending the girl. He had gently washed the blood out of her hair and covered her up with a warm, flannel blanket. He grabbed a blanket of his own and shifted in the chair to watch her condition before he began to doze off himself. Soon he was in the soft embrace of sleep and dreaming of the same woman on the bed beside him.

***********

Icarus woke slowly. Her head was pounding and the blinding morning sunlight was in her eyes. Her eyes watered up at the brightness and the water was soon blinked away as her eyes adjusted to the light in what she could now make out as a small apartment. She sat up, making the warm quilt fall to her lap. She looked down and quickly pulled the quilt back up at seeing that her bra was lying in a pile of clothing on the floor. She looked under the blanket and let out a gasp as she noticed her underpants were also in the pile beside the bed and the cuts and scrapes on her legs had been cleaned up. She marveled at her delicately wrapped shoulder, hands and arms. Who ever had rescued her and brought her back from the edge of death was truly a great person and she would be in this person's debt. She never expected it to be a hansom man.

Icarus heard the heavy breathing of someone, or something from somewhere in the room and looked around. Her eyes fell on the shirtless, sweaty form of a red haired man. He was practicing fighting moves that were graceful and precise, almost like the steps of a dance. He had twin daggers in each hand and had his eyes closed, so he didn't notice Icarus' stares or that she had gotten up from the bed with the quilt wrapped firmly around her.

Icarus crept quietly over to him, her footsteps undetectable. She stopped feet away from the man and watched him with great interest. She watched for at least 5 minutes before she felt a tingle in her nose and sneezed loudly.

The sudden noise startled the man and he turned quickly, putting on of his daggers to Icarus' throat. He quickly dropped them at remembering the girl he had rescued the previous night. He saw no fear in the crimson depths of her eyes, even though he almost cut her throat and probably would have had he not seen her face before he did.

"Forgive me, you frightened me." He apologized.

His voice was beautiful to Icarus' ears. It was so strong and threatening, yet soft and sad at the same moment. Icarus nodded to him, looking him over. He was very hansom. Skin rippled over his muscular, hairless chest and torso. He had a lot of scars that criss-crossed down his chest, as if someone had cut it open one to many times. Icarus could sympathize, even if she couldn't recall where her scars came from. That's why she always wore things that covered up her scars.

Shaking her head of these thoughts, she looked up to the man's face. His deep violet eyes held strength, passion for his art of fighting and deep sadness and pain. His red bangs were plastered to his head with sweat and the rest of his hip length hair was pulled behind his head with a rubber band. His face was stunning to say the least, except for three scars on his right cheek. Not that they ruined his features, but they must have had a sad story behind them. Icarus felt her arm slowly reach out and she ran her index, middle, and ring finger over the scars.

The man wanted to lean into the caresses of the girls touch, but he couldn't be loved. He was to tainted with blood and evil. He had to take on assassin jobs to survive, and didn't want to hurt this woman. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand from his cheek. Icarus looked up, her eyes glazed as if in a trance and then shook her head.

"I'm sorry.... I-I-I shouldn't have..." Icarus began to apologize for her rudeness, but found herself silenced by a finger on her lips.

As much as he didn't want her to stop speaking, as her voice was like the tinkling of a waterfall to his ears, he hushed her. "It's okay. My name is Cali Twilight." He introduced himself to Icarus and kissed her knuckles. Regardless of his past and the demons inside him, he always wanted to remain a gentleman.

Icarus felt a blush rise to her cheeks at the kiss. "My name is Icarus Valentine." She managed to say, trying to hide her blushing cheeks. Cali released her hand and turned to put his daggers in their golden case on a bookshelf.

"After a quick shower for the both of us, we will go into Midgar and find you some cloths, but for now you'll have to wear mine." Cali said, turning to look at Icarus, who was leaning all her weight on an old armchair as if trying to keep herself standing. Cali remembered all the blood she had lost the previous night. .: She still must be weak from blood loss, it's a wonder she's even awake:. He thought to himself and walked over to lead her back to her bed.

Icarus sat down on the edge of the bed, feeling winded and suddenly tired. She felt like a helpless baby. .:I must be weak to be depending on a stranger to get around..:. Icarus thought bitterly, but then thought how grateful she was to this stranger for saving her life.

Cali let his hand linger on her arm, making sure she didn't need him any longer before releasing her. "Why don't you rest a bit before you shower. I'll get cleaned up first and then help you." He said, little emotion showing in his voice. He couldn't get attached or like her. He always ended up killing people he loved.

Icarus looked up and saw the sadness in his eyes deepened, even more so when their eyes met. She wondered why he was sad, but dared not intrude on his privacy. She laid back on the pillow and let her eyes rest briefly.

Satisfied that Icarus would be okay, Cali walked to the bathroom to shower. He turned on the water and adjusted the temperature to his liking. He pulled off his jeans and boxers and stepped into the caressing spray. He lathered shampoo in his hands and then rubbed it into his crimson locks as he thought about Icarus. .:How had she gotten that why? Why were there soldiers looking for her?:. these questions and many more personal ones were running threw his mind. He dismissed the thoughts as he washed his well toned body. The questions would have to wait until he was done with his shower. But as he turned to turn off the water, an ear shattering scream echoed from the living room.

Cali jumped from the shower, without turning the water off, and slipping on the bathroom rug and cutting his leg on the low towel rack. He got back up, wrapped a towel around his slim waist and ran into the living room.

Icarus was screaming, a small trail of blood dripping from the corner of her mouth. Cali ran to her side, hesitant to touch her in this state, but grabbed her arms and began to shake her, much like her father had only a day before. Before his violet eyes flashed horrid visions that were filled with hate and sadness. He felt the pain she had felt over the last day and he to began to scream from the vision and the pain in his head and heart.

Cali forced himself to let go and Icarus fell on the bed softly. He rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands and took in deep, calming breaths. He looked up as Icarus sat up and began to cough. Small bits of blood trickled between her fingers and down her hand as she coughed.

.:She has tuberculosis...:. He said sadly to himself.

Icarus wiped her mouth when she finished coughing and looked up at him. "I'm sorry..." She said to him, a pain in her eyes.

"Please don't be sorry. There is no reason for it." He said softly. Icarus gave him a faint smile, in which he returned. She nodded to him and laid back down, to tired to stay up. Cali sighed to himself, wanting her to rest and get better.

"We'll go into town tomorrow. I don't think you're well enough to be up and about yet." He told her, getting up from the bed and walking to a dresser in the hall to change his cloths. Then he started toward the old off-white chair in the corner. As he sat, he picked up a book and began to read a bit before Icarus spoke.

"I don't mean to cause you trouble, but I'm very grateful to you for this." She said sleepily looking at him. Cali looked over at her, a slightly happy glint to his eye as he set his book down on his lap, his finger between the pages to keep his spot.

"You are no trouble. It's been awhile since I've had company or someone to talk to." He said a bit cheerfully. Icarus said nothing and gave him another faint smile before curling up in her blanket and going to sleep.

Cali watched her for a moment before speaking to no one in particular, "Tomorrow is a beautiful horizon." He spoke these words softly, and then began to read. He knew for the visions he saw in Icarus' mind were going to lead to something big, he just didn't know what yet. But he felt a need to play a role in whatever it was going to be.

Little did he know, he wasn't the only person to be involved in the fate that was going to be the future.