Categories > Games > Final Fantasy 7 > Slowly Twisting
To Every Man His Little Cross
2 reviewsThings begin to pick up a little here as Vincent lets the real world back in.
3Moving
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or locations of Final Fantasy VII, they belong to Square-Enix. Yeah, I know, I was shocked to learn they weren't mine too.
A/N: 100 reads?! Groovy. More love for Delcat, who is my muse and very close friend. Also, she knows Cid remarkably well. But mostly she's just a lovely person. I'd like to take a moment to thank the people who have read this so far, with special thanks to my two reviewers. I value your opinions and I hope I'm improving. The feedback so far has really helped me shape this story. If you like it, say so! If you think it's the most miserable piece of sorry-ass writing that ever crawled the slime-encrusted pits of the abyss, well, let me know why so I can fix it if I can. Okay, have fun people. Sorry it took so long.
"What a sad specimen of humanity."
Vincent blinked up at Hojo, wary of the man even now. There was nothing to trust in him, even his kindest words held a silver blade under the white velvet coating. The scientist circled, making long savage steps like a prowling wolf.
"Pathetic...in fact, it's nearly worthless, but it'll have to do, won't it?" Professor Hojo smiled at Vincent with a gentleness and sympathy that frightened the helpless man. "After all, it's the only one I have. Or is it? Is it indeed?" He leaned closer, his satisfied smile only inches from Vincent's face. "Is it truly human after all?"
"Vincent!!"
The former Turk was pulled forcefully from his reverie by Tifa's voice, and as he tried to respond the foreign words crashed into each in an intellectual train wreck. He felt heavy stone of shame in his gut-he hadn't slipped and mangled his Midgarian in years. He swallowed the words and tried again.
"Is something wrong?" His voice came out lower than he'd anticipated, and it was harsh from disuse.
"No...Vincent, I'm not going to shout through the door, open up."
He did so, and found Tifa on the other side of it-no surprise obviously, but her stance suggested she was slightly annoyed, impatient at the very least. She regarded him critically.
"You look terrible," she informed him.
"I know." Rather, it seemed logical to him, though he wasn't going to clarify that.
"What have you eaten?"
"...Not much."
"Meaning what?"
"..."
"Vincent, have you gone mad?!" Tifa shoved several bottles by the doorframe
aside with a violence that made the man want to cringe. "You don't just stop eating for a week and expect to feel fine!" He considered pointing out that he had, in fact, eaten an apple several hours ago, and that it was only three days. Good sense got the better of him however, and he simply stood mutely off to the side as she swept angrily past. "Even Cloud knows enough to feed himself now and then!" She pulled open the door to the cupboard, which was stocked with various odds and ends. He stepped up behind her quietly, feeling he should say or do something, then stopped, bile in his throat. His hand darted out and he caught her right arm below the wrist in a fierce grip that caused her to whirl to face him, booted foot nearly catching him in the gut before she caught herself. She looked simultaneously alarmed and aggravated.
"Vincent, what in the world are you doing?!" His grip on her was fierce enough that his knuckles were white from the effort.
"Tifa...no mouse traps."
"What are you talking about?"
"Please."
"What is the matter with you?" Pulling her arm free from his loosened grasp, she regarded him sceptically. "You've been acting really strange."
"Promise me you won't set any mouse traps." His eyes were troubled, echoing some thought that lurked behind them.
"Vincent, don't be unreasonable. They're eating our food. I have to do something about them."
"Don't. It's not that serious."
"They're just mice."
"I know what they are."
Without thinking, Tifa responded, "So you can shoot people but I can't set mouse traps?" She bit her lip as the realisation of how low her words were hit with sickening suddenness. She hadn't intended to throw his life in his face. He took a step back and dropped his head. His voice sounded very quiet when he spoke to the floor. It had an almost whisper-like quality to it.
"...Tifa, I'm begging you. This is important." He looked up at her, red eyes deceptively steady. "Please don't set any mouse traps."
"...okay then." She gave up, resigning it to one of his oddities. "Just find some other solution then. I don't have time to chase rodents around the house." Tifa closed the cabinet door carefully as Vincent turned to leave, apparently satisfied. He was already headed down the stairs by the time she'd turned around completely-he amazed her sometimes with his speed. She paused, studying the attic turned living space. There were papers piled not untidily in the corner, but she didn't take the time to look them over. Still feeling guilty and puzzling over the mousetraps, Tifa headed down the stairs after Vincent.
About twelve minutes later, she was accosted by her other houseguest.
"Tifa!"
"Cid? You're awake?!"
"Damn straight. What the fuck was all that yelling?"
"Vincent hasn't eaten in about a week, among other things."
"Why the hell not?!"
"How should I know?" She dragged the rag over the countertop, frowning. "Then he got upset because I tried to set some mouse traps."
"He did what?"
She sighed. "I don't really know. He just got very upset about getting rid of the mouse problem."
"Fuckin' loony."
"Maybe. But I'm sure he has some sort of reason. He just isn't telling us."
"Like hell he isn't. He's keeping enough secrets, I'm sick of this bullshit." He turned and clomped off.
"Cid!"
He slammed the door in response.
Cid found the reclusive ex-Turk in the kitchen, rolling a hard-boiled egg around in his golden claw. He seemed less interested in eating it than he was in toying with it. Cid thought he was more distant than he'd once been, the same way he had been since before Sephiroth had been killed. He stomped up and angrily grabbed the man by the right shoulder.
"What the fuck is the matter with you, Vince?" Startled, Vincent dropped the egg and whirled in his seat, his clawed hand spread menacingly a hair's breadth from the pilot's face. Then his red eyes widened and he withdrew, hastily, frightened by his own audacity.
"There's nothing wrong with me." Unlike Cid, he kept his voice low, barely over a murmur. He did not want this conversation overheard, even though the only one around to hear it was Tifa.
"Like hell there's nothing wrong with you! You go off hiding in some ancient forest and you don't say anything to ANYONE for how many goddamn months until you show up in Midgar and lock yourself in a shithole of a tiny room! I hate to break to you, Mr. Nothing's Wrong, but that's not normal!" Vincent didn't reply, so he continued. "I mean, you fucking save the goddamn world, and all you can do is hide away in some tiny corner of nowhere for months!" He took a breath, during which Vincent hesitated, then he spoke the final blow. ""And now you're finally back, and all you care about are the goddamn mice?"
"...you don't know what you're talking about." His voice was nearly a whisper, quiet and regretful. It pissed Cid off.
"Maybe not, but it'd damn well help if you'd actually TELL us something!"
"There are things you don't want to know."
"Tough call if you've never told 'em to anyone." Vincent startled him by reacting savagely, voice thick with disgust.
"Not every theory needs to be tested to be true, even Hojo knew that!"
"What the hell are you implying, Vince?"
"Good question. I think you already know the answer to it." Infuriated, Cid grabbed Vincent's shoulders and tried to shake him. Failing that, he shouted.
"Don't fuck around with me, Vincent. It isn't funny!" In response, Vincent reached out with his golden claw and grabbed a handful of the man's shirt. His voice was amazingly calm as he lifted Cid to perfect eye level. Cid, for his part, found himself wondering distractedly if Vincent ever blinked.
"I know it's not funny, Cid. Nothing is funny any more." Cid stared at him. He'd never seen Vincent act like this before...except.... "I don't laugh any more Cid, and with good reason. If I keep secrets that is my business and you have no reason in the world to interfere." ...except what?
"Except I'm your friend maybe?" The smart-ass remark flew from his mouth of its own accord, but it did the trick--Vincent put him down. But before he could apologise, Cid added something else. "Just because you were Hojo's little lab rat doesn't give you an excuse to treat us like shit." With an unexpected swiftness, Vincent's eyes became slitted and furious. More importantly, the claw became a fist that smashed across Cid's jaw and sent a spurt of red spattering onto the wooden floor. Cid himself crashed painfully to the ground, still conscious but in a state of shock. Still caught up in his anger, Vincent crossed the room, stepping over Cid, then threw open the door and stalked off. He startled Tifa in the hall, but gave no response to her alarmed questions save icy silence as he climbed the steps and shut himself back into the attic.
Postscript: I'm extremely sorry this took so long, my talent is...mercurial. Thankfully my muse Delcat is not. I'll try not to take so long with the next chapter, but I can't promise anything since one of my goals is to train myself to write more per chapter. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I thank you all for your patience.
A/N: 100 reads?! Groovy. More love for Delcat, who is my muse and very close friend. Also, she knows Cid remarkably well. But mostly she's just a lovely person. I'd like to take a moment to thank the people who have read this so far, with special thanks to my two reviewers. I value your opinions and I hope I'm improving. The feedback so far has really helped me shape this story. If you like it, say so! If you think it's the most miserable piece of sorry-ass writing that ever crawled the slime-encrusted pits of the abyss, well, let me know why so I can fix it if I can. Okay, have fun people. Sorry it took so long.
"What a sad specimen of humanity."
Vincent blinked up at Hojo, wary of the man even now. There was nothing to trust in him, even his kindest words held a silver blade under the white velvet coating. The scientist circled, making long savage steps like a prowling wolf.
"Pathetic...in fact, it's nearly worthless, but it'll have to do, won't it?" Professor Hojo smiled at Vincent with a gentleness and sympathy that frightened the helpless man. "After all, it's the only one I have. Or is it? Is it indeed?" He leaned closer, his satisfied smile only inches from Vincent's face. "Is it truly human after all?"
"Vincent!!"
The former Turk was pulled forcefully from his reverie by Tifa's voice, and as he tried to respond the foreign words crashed into each in an intellectual train wreck. He felt heavy stone of shame in his gut-he hadn't slipped and mangled his Midgarian in years. He swallowed the words and tried again.
"Is something wrong?" His voice came out lower than he'd anticipated, and it was harsh from disuse.
"No...Vincent, I'm not going to shout through the door, open up."
He did so, and found Tifa on the other side of it-no surprise obviously, but her stance suggested she was slightly annoyed, impatient at the very least. She regarded him critically.
"You look terrible," she informed him.
"I know." Rather, it seemed logical to him, though he wasn't going to clarify that.
"What have you eaten?"
"...Not much."
"Meaning what?"
"..."
"Vincent, have you gone mad?!" Tifa shoved several bottles by the doorframe
aside with a violence that made the man want to cringe. "You don't just stop eating for a week and expect to feel fine!" He considered pointing out that he had, in fact, eaten an apple several hours ago, and that it was only three days. Good sense got the better of him however, and he simply stood mutely off to the side as she swept angrily past. "Even Cloud knows enough to feed himself now and then!" She pulled open the door to the cupboard, which was stocked with various odds and ends. He stepped up behind her quietly, feeling he should say or do something, then stopped, bile in his throat. His hand darted out and he caught her right arm below the wrist in a fierce grip that caused her to whirl to face him, booted foot nearly catching him in the gut before she caught herself. She looked simultaneously alarmed and aggravated.
"Vincent, what in the world are you doing?!" His grip on her was fierce enough that his knuckles were white from the effort.
"Tifa...no mouse traps."
"What are you talking about?"
"Please."
"What is the matter with you?" Pulling her arm free from his loosened grasp, she regarded him sceptically. "You've been acting really strange."
"Promise me you won't set any mouse traps." His eyes were troubled, echoing some thought that lurked behind them.
"Vincent, don't be unreasonable. They're eating our food. I have to do something about them."
"Don't. It's not that serious."
"They're just mice."
"I know what they are."
Without thinking, Tifa responded, "So you can shoot people but I can't set mouse traps?" She bit her lip as the realisation of how low her words were hit with sickening suddenness. She hadn't intended to throw his life in his face. He took a step back and dropped his head. His voice sounded very quiet when he spoke to the floor. It had an almost whisper-like quality to it.
"...Tifa, I'm begging you. This is important." He looked up at her, red eyes deceptively steady. "Please don't set any mouse traps."
"...okay then." She gave up, resigning it to one of his oddities. "Just find some other solution then. I don't have time to chase rodents around the house." Tifa closed the cabinet door carefully as Vincent turned to leave, apparently satisfied. He was already headed down the stairs by the time she'd turned around completely-he amazed her sometimes with his speed. She paused, studying the attic turned living space. There were papers piled not untidily in the corner, but she didn't take the time to look them over. Still feeling guilty and puzzling over the mousetraps, Tifa headed down the stairs after Vincent.
About twelve minutes later, she was accosted by her other houseguest.
"Tifa!"
"Cid? You're awake?!"
"Damn straight. What the fuck was all that yelling?"
"Vincent hasn't eaten in about a week, among other things."
"Why the hell not?!"
"How should I know?" She dragged the rag over the countertop, frowning. "Then he got upset because I tried to set some mouse traps."
"He did what?"
She sighed. "I don't really know. He just got very upset about getting rid of the mouse problem."
"Fuckin' loony."
"Maybe. But I'm sure he has some sort of reason. He just isn't telling us."
"Like hell he isn't. He's keeping enough secrets, I'm sick of this bullshit." He turned and clomped off.
"Cid!"
He slammed the door in response.
Cid found the reclusive ex-Turk in the kitchen, rolling a hard-boiled egg around in his golden claw. He seemed less interested in eating it than he was in toying with it. Cid thought he was more distant than he'd once been, the same way he had been since before Sephiroth had been killed. He stomped up and angrily grabbed the man by the right shoulder.
"What the fuck is the matter with you, Vince?" Startled, Vincent dropped the egg and whirled in his seat, his clawed hand spread menacingly a hair's breadth from the pilot's face. Then his red eyes widened and he withdrew, hastily, frightened by his own audacity.
"There's nothing wrong with me." Unlike Cid, he kept his voice low, barely over a murmur. He did not want this conversation overheard, even though the only one around to hear it was Tifa.
"Like hell there's nothing wrong with you! You go off hiding in some ancient forest and you don't say anything to ANYONE for how many goddamn months until you show up in Midgar and lock yourself in a shithole of a tiny room! I hate to break to you, Mr. Nothing's Wrong, but that's not normal!" Vincent didn't reply, so he continued. "I mean, you fucking save the goddamn world, and all you can do is hide away in some tiny corner of nowhere for months!" He took a breath, during which Vincent hesitated, then he spoke the final blow. ""And now you're finally back, and all you care about are the goddamn mice?"
"...you don't know what you're talking about." His voice was nearly a whisper, quiet and regretful. It pissed Cid off.
"Maybe not, but it'd damn well help if you'd actually TELL us something!"
"There are things you don't want to know."
"Tough call if you've never told 'em to anyone." Vincent startled him by reacting savagely, voice thick with disgust.
"Not every theory needs to be tested to be true, even Hojo knew that!"
"What the hell are you implying, Vince?"
"Good question. I think you already know the answer to it." Infuriated, Cid grabbed Vincent's shoulders and tried to shake him. Failing that, he shouted.
"Don't fuck around with me, Vincent. It isn't funny!" In response, Vincent reached out with his golden claw and grabbed a handful of the man's shirt. His voice was amazingly calm as he lifted Cid to perfect eye level. Cid, for his part, found himself wondering distractedly if Vincent ever blinked.
"I know it's not funny, Cid. Nothing is funny any more." Cid stared at him. He'd never seen Vincent act like this before...except.... "I don't laugh any more Cid, and with good reason. If I keep secrets that is my business and you have no reason in the world to interfere." ...except what?
"Except I'm your friend maybe?" The smart-ass remark flew from his mouth of its own accord, but it did the trick--Vincent put him down. But before he could apologise, Cid added something else. "Just because you were Hojo's little lab rat doesn't give you an excuse to treat us like shit." With an unexpected swiftness, Vincent's eyes became slitted and furious. More importantly, the claw became a fist that smashed across Cid's jaw and sent a spurt of red spattering onto the wooden floor. Cid himself crashed painfully to the ground, still conscious but in a state of shock. Still caught up in his anger, Vincent crossed the room, stepping over Cid, then threw open the door and stalked off. He startled Tifa in the hall, but gave no response to her alarmed questions save icy silence as he climbed the steps and shut himself back into the attic.
Postscript: I'm extremely sorry this took so long, my talent is...mercurial. Thankfully my muse Delcat is not. I'll try not to take so long with the next chapter, but I can't promise anything since one of my goals is to train myself to write more per chapter. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I thank you all for your patience.
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