Categories > Games > Final Fantasy 7 > Slowly Twisting
DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN DOODLEY-SQUAT.
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Reeve stood nervously against the wall, back pressed up against it as though he were glued there. He couldn't see Vincent's face under the bed, but he could see his feet, and his normal hand. Reeve wasn't sure he wanted to know how Vincent was holding the other one.
“...Vincent?” He spoke nervously, hesitating to break the ragged sound of breathing that filled the room. Vincent shifted his feet slightly, and Reeve tensed—much as Vincent presumably had. “I... are you all right?” It was quite possibly one of the less sensitive things he'd said so far, but he could not for the life of him figure out anything else to say. This was not the kind of situation he was normally ready for. He wished he had Cait Sith handy.
“No.” The words escaped Vincent's mouth quickly, harsh and curt. Reeve frowned. That was unusually candid.
“Vincent, I... you--” he got cut off, which was just as well, because he wasn't certain where he was going with that opening.
“Why am I here?” Of course Vincent would get to the root first and work up from there. Reeve shifted nervously.
“You had a seizure.” Q and A he could handle. He hoped.
“A seizure?” Suddenly Reeve could see one red eye staring at him from the dark space under the bed. The other one was obscured by hair. It was a little unsettling. He cleared his throat.
“Yes, you collapsed and... well,” Vincent wasn't waiting for Reeve to stumble over a good explanation.
“Was Chaos involved?” Reeve flinched.
“No, you just collapsed and had a seizure. You could have hurt yourself much more than you did.”
“More than I did?” There was some hesitation, a caution, as though Vincent had just remembered himself, his body. Reeve felt like he was walking on rifle-tips, waiting for something to go off... or maybe it was Vincent walking on guns, and Reeve just watching, waiting for something horrible to happen.
“Yes, your claw...”
“I know.” Vincent's voice was flat, and Reeve let it go. He knew when Vincent had gotten the drift already. He waited while Vincent recollected.
“Tifa had to use a Cure materia to keep you... whole while we waited for the ambulance.” He had to try to stress the necessity of the situation. By the time they'd gotten the door open, Vincent had torn a hole in his stomach, a hole that poured not only blood but other fluids. No one wanted to go near that twitching claw, even after the seizure itself ended. If Vincent's natural healing hadn't helped, Reeve wasn't sure Tifa's materia would have been enough. It had been a sick experience, standing by while Tifa tried to stop the bleeding and close the wound—surreal, actually. It was hard to believe that Vincent could be in any danger at all, but the whole attic had smelled of blood. As it was, by the time the ambulance arrived at the hospital, there wasn't even a need for stitches.
Vincent barely remembered the seizure, so he was forced to take Reeve's word for it. He didn't say anything, forcing Reeve to speak again.
“Vincent, it could be serious.”
“What?” Vincent raised his head, looking at Reeve with dark red eyes, startled out of reverie.
The... Vincent, you had a seizure.” Reeve stumbled, trying to explain. “You can't leave until we know what caused it.” Vincent's next movement was so sudden that Reeve thought the former Turk was going to flip the entire bed over. Instead, he somehow slid out from under the bed, unfolding into his full height to look Reeve in the eyes, his hair hanging tangled and unkempt. The clawed digits on his left arm twitched slightly, though Reeve wasn't aware of it. He was trying not to look away from Vincent's haunting stare.
“I don't like hospitals.” It was such a flat statement that it caught Reeve off his guard, and he blinked.
“What? No, wait.” He put up a hand, not actually needing Vincent to repeat himself. He didn't... no, it made sense. Of course he didn't like hospitals... but ... “Anything that could fell you would have killed someone else a long time ago,” he dared to say, and Vincent... flinched. Reeve startled. “Vincent?”
The tall man turned his back, though, ghosting away to sit silently on the bed. His movements were restrained and cautious, making the moment surreal. Reeve shifted his feet, watching as Vincent clasped his hand and claw together between his knees and stared at the floor. Finally, without anything else to do, he turned and reached for the door, making good his escape before anything else dramatic could happen.
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Reeve stood nervously against the wall, back pressed up against it as though he were glued there. He couldn't see Vincent's face under the bed, but he could see his feet, and his normal hand. Reeve wasn't sure he wanted to know how Vincent was holding the other one.
“...Vincent?” He spoke nervously, hesitating to break the ragged sound of breathing that filled the room. Vincent shifted his feet slightly, and Reeve tensed—much as Vincent presumably had. “I... are you all right?” It was quite possibly one of the less sensitive things he'd said so far, but he could not for the life of him figure out anything else to say. This was not the kind of situation he was normally ready for. He wished he had Cait Sith handy.
“No.” The words escaped Vincent's mouth quickly, harsh and curt. Reeve frowned. That was unusually candid.
“Vincent, I... you--” he got cut off, which was just as well, because he wasn't certain where he was going with that opening.
“Why am I here?” Of course Vincent would get to the root first and work up from there. Reeve shifted nervously.
“You had a seizure.” Q and A he could handle. He hoped.
“A seizure?” Suddenly Reeve could see one red eye staring at him from the dark space under the bed. The other one was obscured by hair. It was a little unsettling. He cleared his throat.
“Yes, you collapsed and... well,” Vincent wasn't waiting for Reeve to stumble over a good explanation.
“Was Chaos involved?” Reeve flinched.
“No, you just collapsed and had a seizure. You could have hurt yourself much more than you did.”
“More than I did?” There was some hesitation, a caution, as though Vincent had just remembered himself, his body. Reeve felt like he was walking on rifle-tips, waiting for something to go off... or maybe it was Vincent walking on guns, and Reeve just watching, waiting for something horrible to happen.
“Yes, your claw...”
“I know.” Vincent's voice was flat, and Reeve let it go. He knew when Vincent had gotten the drift already. He waited while Vincent recollected.
“Tifa had to use a Cure materia to keep you... whole while we waited for the ambulance.” He had to try to stress the necessity of the situation. By the time they'd gotten the door open, Vincent had torn a hole in his stomach, a hole that poured not only blood but other fluids. No one wanted to go near that twitching claw, even after the seizure itself ended. If Vincent's natural healing hadn't helped, Reeve wasn't sure Tifa's materia would have been enough. It had been a sick experience, standing by while Tifa tried to stop the bleeding and close the wound—surreal, actually. It was hard to believe that Vincent could be in any danger at all, but the whole attic had smelled of blood. As it was, by the time the ambulance arrived at the hospital, there wasn't even a need for stitches.
Vincent barely remembered the seizure, so he was forced to take Reeve's word for it. He didn't say anything, forcing Reeve to speak again.
“Vincent, it could be serious.”
“What?” Vincent raised his head, looking at Reeve with dark red eyes, startled out of reverie.
The... Vincent, you had a seizure.” Reeve stumbled, trying to explain. “You can't leave until we know what caused it.” Vincent's next movement was so sudden that Reeve thought the former Turk was going to flip the entire bed over. Instead, he somehow slid out from under the bed, unfolding into his full height to look Reeve in the eyes, his hair hanging tangled and unkempt. The clawed digits on his left arm twitched slightly, though Reeve wasn't aware of it. He was trying not to look away from Vincent's haunting stare.
“I don't like hospitals.” It was such a flat statement that it caught Reeve off his guard, and he blinked.
“What? No, wait.” He put up a hand, not actually needing Vincent to repeat himself. He didn't... no, it made sense. Of course he didn't like hospitals... but ... “Anything that could fell you would have killed someone else a long time ago,” he dared to say, and Vincent... flinched. Reeve startled. “Vincent?”
The tall man turned his back, though, ghosting away to sit silently on the bed. His movements were restrained and cautious, making the moment surreal. Reeve shifted his feet, watching as Vincent clasped his hand and claw together between his knees and stared at the floor. Finally, without anything else to do, he turned and reached for the door, making good his escape before anything else dramatic could happen.
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