Pushed To Forgiveness Part 1
Title: Pushed To Forgiveness
Author: calvi_sama
Summary: What does it take to achieve forgiveness? How much more do you have to hurt before the pain stops?
Rating: PG, for minor language
Pairing: none specifically, it’s all Vincent’s issues
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters - that’s all Squeenix
Warnings: ** spoilers! (for DOC) **, I repeat, SPOILERS! You have been warned…
A/N: I took some fictitious (and not necessarily impossible to accept, if you think about it) liberties with genealogy in this story. My apologies for those detail-sticklers, but it just made sense to me. Oh, and I also apologize if Vincent seems a little OOC at times, I had to try and think of how Vincent would react and behave when finally pushed to his mental limit and emotionally stripped raw, especially with just what revelation he his hit with, when rendered to his most vulnerable.
And special thanks to chephren, the comma queen, for looking this bad boy over for mistakes and giving me much needed encouragement. Mad love baby...this spud's for you!
~ Pushed To Forgiveness ~
With the night sky a velvet canvas of constellations above him and a ruined city below, Vincent Valentine - Turk in one life, ruined freak science project and vessel to one of Gaia’s most powerful and terrifying creations in another - knew what he had to do. He watched the massive silver Titan with mako wings begin to rise and he thought, time to end this. He felt Chaos reluctantly accept his decision and with the protomateria burning brightly in his chest, he shot up, up, up, until he hovered with spread wings above the rising creation called Omega.
‘If you do this, you will not survive little one,’ Chaos whispered.
‘I know, but what choice do I have.’ Vincent replied, watching the giant slowly gaining altitude.
‘Merge with Omega, let me go home. Let me fulfill my destiny.’ Chaos said firmly, and even now its voice was laced with the rage of having the ultimate decision forced from it. ‘What do you care about a world that did nothing for you but betray and destroy?’
Nothing. The truth of it was he didn’t care for this world, or the people in it. He had no reason to save them. No reason, save one.
Friends
Vincent thought of them now, pictured each of their faces: Cloud - the brave and gentle ex-SOLDIER, and the only other one as tortured as he; Tifa - courageous and strong, she was always there supporting and encouraging; Cid - rough around the edges and crude more often than not, but so compassionate and possessing the unique ability to make Vincent laugh; Yuffie - overeager and energetic (and always in a confounded good mood!), was infectious and endearing; Nanaki - frustrating and at times irritating, but dependable and wise, both sage and oracle, hell he even liked the damned puppet Cait Sith; Barret - vulgar and abrasive but loyal to a fault and never willing to let you fight alone; and Reeve - idealistic and insufferably optimistic, but such a source of hope that there could be a better world. Then there were the children - Denzel and Marlene who had already suffered with the Geostigma and now Shelke - a woman trapped in the body of a ten-year-old girl, a life ruined before it had begun, and having lost the only family she had left. Finally, the last person he pictured had already given her life for this world and the people in it: Aerith - the last remaining Cetra of Gaia, beautiful and unquestioningly accepting. He would not betray her sacrifice by turning his back.
For those people, he would do this, because they deserved better from him. They had all struggled and suffered so much; he could do nothing else. And for those people, who had always been there for him - comforted him, supported him, teased him, argued with him, genuinely cared for him, even when he was so withdrawn, morose and tried to push them away - for that loyalty and friendship, he would die.
Chaos growled at Vincent’s thoughts, but said no more beyond, ‘so be it’. And with his decision made, Vincent - through Chaos - pulled forth all the power available to him until, glowing with crimson brilliance, he hurtled at Omega with concussive speed. The impact was apocalyptic, wrenching a scream of pain and effort from his throat and the last thought that blazed through his brain in a white-hot arc was, ‘I love you all.’ Then his world blew apart.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Vincent didn’t feel anything except a pervading sense of peace, his body relaxed, his mind calm and still. He did notice however, in a distorted, scattered way, that it was too quiet, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He didn’t know if he was lying down or standing up, he couldn’t tell, but it felt like it could go either way. He just felt good and didn’t really care about anything else at the moment.
“Open your eyes little one.” Murmured a strange, yet familiar voice.
Vincent drew his brows together in a frown. It sounded like Chaos - after all only Chaos called him ‘little one’ - but the voice was more resonant, deeper and smoother. And not in his head. That fact was what caused Vincent to crack his eyes open in curiosity. He was momentarily shaken when it registered that he was looking at himself, a mirror image, only with glowing golden eyes instead of red. His surprise and confusion must have been blatant for Chaos chuckled delightedly.
‘That was creepy,’ Vincent thought as he watched himself…giggle.
He could only imagine what his face looked like now because when Chaos glanced at him again, it was sent off into another fit of slightly hysterical laughter. Vincent was getting irritated and was beginning to lose his patience. He crossed his arms over this chest, raised an eyebrow and proceeded to scowl at himself.
Finally Chaos brought itself back under control and sighed, “Oh little one, I could almost say that I’m going to miss you. You are so very entertaining.”
Vincent snorted, “Can’t say that it’s mutual. Now would you care to tell me why I am looking at myself?”
“I thought it prudent to appear as something you would be comfortable with as my true form would overwhelm you.” Chaos said in that resonant, rich voice.
Vincent nodded. He could buy that.
So there they remained. Vincent stood looking at Chaos who in turn was watching him. Neither moved and neither made any attempt to say anything.
‘Oh for Gods’ sake, this is stupid.’ Vincent though sourly, which was followed immediately by a deep scowl when he saw Chaos grin.
“I quite agree.” Chaos said smoothly, that irritating smile still on its face.
Vincent visibly started, ”Are you still in my mind?” Dear Gods he hoped not!
The demon laughed, and it was not a happy sound. Vincent shuddered, ‘I didn’t think that I could sound like that…so…cold!’
Chaos shook its head, “No little one, I’m not. But for the brief time that you were my host, I have learned your thought patterns, so predicting what you are thinking and what you will say is not difficult - not that it ever really was…”
“Charming.” Vincent muttered.
But Chaos wasn’t finished, “Just like I know what you were going to ask and the answer is: yes, very dead, but not precisely in the Lifestream.”
“Huh?” Vincent blurted. ‘Oh now that was very eloquent Valentine, way to go.’
But Chaos didn’t appear to have noticed. Either that or it just ignored him. “You’ve been…detained.” It said simply.
‘Duh.’ Vincent thought stupidly, but managed to salvage some pride, “I should think that would be obvious.” He gestured around them at…’well, uh…great, back single syllables.’
He knew Chaos caught his hesitation by the telltale glint in those luminously sulfuric eyes. “You are currently nowhere.”
‘Oh, that’s helpful,’ he thought when in reality he raised an eyebrow and said nothing.
Chaos sighed, sounding putout at his apparent ignorance at not immediately understanding something that should have been obvious, “Then I shall put it into words you would understand. This place is a kind of ‘waiting room’ for those souls that, for whatever reason, are not ready to enter the Lifestream. I’d say ‘ask your little friend Cloud’, but he will have no memory of his time here. Normally souls are kept in the state you first found yourself, in a type of rest, but I woke you, so you shall remember everything.”
Its tone held something ominous that caused his alarms to go off and Vincent knew that what Chaos told him was important, he did, but he was hung up on one stupidly insignificant thing. “That’s the most I’ve ever heard you speak…and the most helpful I think.”
Chaos was un-amused, “Don’t consider yourself special beyond your inherent stupidity, little one.”
Vincent allowed himself a slight lift of lips, “That’s better. So why am I not fit for the Lifestream? Who or…what says I’m not ready, the Cetra?”
At that Chaos snorted and rolled its eyes, “Hardly. And who or what, as you so inelegantly put it, is not relevant. The only thing that matters is that you are not.”
“Well that is half of my question unanswered. And the other?” Vincent asked. He was beginning to get bored with all of this.
Apparently so was Chaos for its tone now was impatient, “your soul is too heavy. It is troubled and your sorrow is too great. You have unfinished business and your sense of guilt holds you back. You must find forgiveness.”
“I do not deny my guilt, for I have earned it. And I cannot believe you would feign ignorance when you know full well the extent of my sins. The only one who can give me forgiveness is beyond my hearing to give it should I even ask.” Vincent said harshly, incredulity warring with rage as he was confronted with Chaos’s flippant simplification of something so complex.
Vincent watched as Chaos made its borrowed face soften into something that, with a stretch, might be called sympathy, “the only guilt you bear is of loving another and desiring to take away her pain.” The demon said softly, introspectively, “You are not an infallible creature little one. The one thing that some would arguably deem to be the greatest attribute of your kind, kept you from doing what perhaps needed to be done in order to reverse the situation.”
Vincent felt a lump begin to form in his throat, making it hard to swallow as how he had failed so shamefully swam in front of his eyes for the umpteenth time, “I failed.” He whispered, averting his red-eyed gaze from Chaos’s unblinking citrine one. He was plagued by ‘what-ifs’ and the knowledge that he was a coward for not trying harder for someone he had proclaimed to love.
Chaos just shrugged and said, “As I said, you are not infallible.”
“So you do not deny my fault in what happened.”
“I never have little one. You bear fault for how things have come to pass, though you do not bear it alone.” Chaos affirmed.
Suddenly a pregnant figure flashed before his eyes and Vincent felt his heart clench painfully, “but the child.” He breathed, closing his eyes. ‘I should have tried, if not for her, then for the baby…I’m a failure, a coward!’
“Ah yes,” Chaos said sadly, “I have found that it is oftentimes the fate of the innocent to suffer for the actions of the guilty.” And before Vincent could open his mouth, Chaos continued, “And no, it is not fair, otherwise I would not exist.” Then the demon fixed him with a chilling stare, “Even had you known, nothing could have saved your son from his fate.”
Vincent literally felt the blood leave his face even as his heart began to pound. His chest became tight as he struggled to breathe. It felt like someone had punched him in the gut and then had a Behemoth sit on his chest. “What-?”
“Your son, Sephiroth.” Its voice was flat.
“But I never…we never…” Vincent was having a hard time focusing.
Chaos slowly shook its head, “That sadistic doctor raped you of your seed. He was muttering something about ‘the perfect specimen’. He drugged you so you were unconscious, but I was there…in that lab…and I heard.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Vincent choked, rubbing his chest.
“Because you deserve to know the truth,” Chaos said simply, “The female was brilliant. You were resilient, brave and disciplined and the ideal physical specimen. And you were both beautiful…”
“Stop it!” Vincent gasped holding his head in his hands as if trying to block out the demon’s voice, but Chaos continued, oblivious to Vincent’s rising agony.
“…of course it helped that your father, too, was brilliant - if careless..”
“Please…stop.” Vincent was begging, and he didn’t fucking care. This was too much…too much!
“Hojo knew his own body to be flawed, so he took seed from your body to impregnate the female, under the illusion that he himself was the child’s father…”
“No.” Vincent moaned, sinking to his knees, then to all fours until he was resting his forehead on the ground. His breathing was reduced to shuddering gasps as he came to grips with the fact that he had a son…and had failed him too, in the most spectacular and unforgivable way possible!
“Okay,” Vincent whispered lifelessly, “you win. You wanted to break me all those years you were trapped inside my body…I give up. Just, please…I beg you…please stop!”
“Do you think I am toying with you?” Chaos could barely contain its insulted outrage. “Why, in the name of Holy, would I toy with you when I am trapped here with you?”
Vincent could feel the demon’s eyes staring at him…through him. He cringed and couldn’t bring himself to look up, instead focusing on his clenched fists. “Why would you be trapped here with me? You’ve got what you wanted, you’re free.” He was only half aware of what he was saying, his focus instead upon his son. He had a son…Lucrecia’s child…his son. He couldn’t manage to take a complete breath. ‘Why was it so hard to breathe?’
“Because I am the one who deemed you unfit for the Lifestream!” Chaos hissed. And a soon as that confession left it’s mouth, the demon’s expression went utterly blank with a speed and completeness that was terrifying.
Vincent’s head snapped up, ‘What?’ But his curiosity was instantly quelled by the cruel twist of the demon’s lips as it smiled in a perverted expression of dark malice.
“I wonder,” Chaos mused contemplatively, “if the female had known that it was your child that she carried, would she have been so quick to abandon it? Do you think she cared that much for you? I would have to wonder, because she certainly had a…unique…way of showing her affection, turning you into an experiment just like her chosen mate did. Even I don’t think I would be that cruel…”
Vincent moaned, curling even more into himself, but it was lost to an involuntary sob. He understood a broken heart now. His eyes began to burn with impending tears.
‘Let them fucking come then!’ He thought. He didn’t care. They were the only thing he could offer the memory of his poor little boy in the way of apology for being no better than Hojo. And the fact that his son was Sephiroth only made this worse - as he would have grown up completely alone. He would have never experienced the warmth of a smile, the comfort of a hug, a kiss goodnight or the kind of safety and peace that a child can feel only in the arms of a parent, who would give their life to protect them, and cherished them, above all others. He would have never experienced love.
Vincent’s voice hitched in another involuntary sob. He fisted his hands in his hair and allowed the tears to fall even though they only mocked the innocence that he had selfishly abandoned to be brutally deconstructed through chemicals, cold metal tools and emotionless, scientific experimentation, logic and demand for answers to creation. “I’m sorry,” he choked around the knot of pain in his gut and in his chest - where his heart still had the audacity to beat. “I’m so very, very sorry. Can you ever forgive me?”
'Who am I kidding? I don’t deserve forgiveness.’ Vincent shuddered in utter and absolute self-loathing.
Dimly he became aware of someone awkwardly petting his back, then his hair as a tiny, timid voice asked, “Do you mean it?” More stroking and the hesitant voice shook with it’s own emotion, “you would love me? Even…even after all the bad things I’ve done?” A pause, “but I don’t deserve love…” It finished in a distant voice that gave no doubt that this was a commonly held belief and a truth that was not to be questioned.
Vincent pulled away and up, feeling his traitorous heart beat out a staccato of what could only be something akin to hope. At a complete loss for anything else to do, he merely stared dumbly at the small, skinny little boy with the close, meticulously cut silver hair and odd slit-pupiled eyes that were almost too big for his perfect little face. While his expression was neutral, his eyes were begging Vincent to be telling the truth, and yet the doubt that lingered there only expected to be laughed at instead.
Fleetingly, Vincent wondered if this was an illusion, another torturous attempt made by Chaos to show him how worthless he was. But it didn’t feel like one. He could see Chaos watching them with an unidentifiable, strange expression on its…his face, some sort of amalgam of curiosity, sadness, smugness, expectance and something else Vincent couldn’t quite name.
His attention however was brought back to the six-year-old boy in front of him when the child sniffed quietly. When a fat tear rolled down one hollow, milky white cheek, Vincent didn’t care if it was an illusion or not. He slowly held out his arms to his son. The silver-haired boy took one startled, cringing step back as though he was expecting to be struck, then stood there with his thumb in his mouth and confusion written plainly across his innocent face. He looked at Vincent’s arms, then his face, then back to his arms, clearly not understanding what he was supposed to do. When another fat tear followed the first, Vincent’s heart broke.
“Son,” he dared to call quietly and was rewarded by hopeful green eyes being placed back on his face, “come here.”
Slowly, hesitantly, a six-year-old Sephiroth moved closer until he could be enfolded in strong arms in the first hug he had ever received in love. And when it became apparent that he would not be abruptly shoved away, fragile little arms snaked around Vincent’s neck and held on as tight as they could as tremors wracked his slight body.
When Vincent felt those arms go around him, a completely foreign feeling blossomed inside of him and spread to encompass his entire being as he clutched his son to him, for the first and the last time of his life, with the ferocity only a father could possess. He turned his head so he could whisper into a perfect little ear, “my beautiful little precious boy. I can to nothing but love you.”
He felt an unexpected swell of joy when he felt those arms tighten even more and a man’s voice speak through the throat of a child, “and I can do nothing but forgive you for something that was never your fault. There are things that are beyond our control and you hurt because of that, but it’s not…your…fault.” Vincent felt the child’s mouth against his ear and Sephiroth whispered with honest, heartfelt strength, “it’s not your fault father, and I forgive you.”
And so Vincent knelt there, on his knees, rocking his son back and forth, with fresh tears running down his face. But these tears were different. They left him lighter, more drained, and peaceful.
“Your mother loved you very much and it drove her mad with grief that she could never get to you.” Sephiroth pulled back and his keen eyes searched Vincent’s face for any trace of the lie that he seemed to believe was there. Vincent held his gaze shamelessly and waited to go on until Sephiroth nodded. Wanting skin-to-skin contact, Vincent pulled off his glove and placed his hand on the boy’s cheek, feathering his thumb under the child’s too-green eye.
“I don’t know…where to begin…” He said quietly, pausing and attempting to find the right words to say. He opted for what was in his heart at that moment. “I’m sorry Sephiroth…son…for never being there for you…” He placed a finger over the child’s lips when they opened to speak. Vincent smiled and shook his head, removed his finger when Sephiroth subsided and continued, “Both as a child and as a man. I’m sorry I couldn’t save your mother and free you both. And I want you to know…to believe, if you believe nothing else, that I would take a thousand more years of your pain on top of my own, if I could shield you from ever having had to go through even a thought, of what you have had to endure. Both you and your mother.”
Vincent pulled his son to him again, tucking that shining silver head under his chin and said while stroking the boy’s hair, “And I’m proud of how strong you are.”
“But all the bad things I’ve done…y-you’re proud of that?” Sephiroth was confused as he pulled back, looking up at Vincent.
Vincent smiled, “Not particularly of that. But I think based on what I see in front of me right now, that you and that Sephiroth are two different people. And that the young man that I see in front of me right now would never hurt someone else just because he was mad. Am I right?”
Sephiroth took a moment to think about what he had just said before finally nodding, “No. I wouldn’t do that, but I’m ashamed that I did.”
Surprisingly, Vincent followed that. The child clearly knew they were one in the same, and yet not. Vincent looked down for a moment, collecting his thoughts carefully before taking Sephiroth’s little hand and meeting those cat-like eyes again. “The man you are son, has been betrayed too many times, hurt too many times and it all began before you were even born. You were hurt like your mother was hurt…like I was hurt.” Vincent hoped the boy could understand that.
He was gratified and proud when Sephiroth nodded, effectively explaining it all when he said, “Hojo.”
Vincent nodded and gently pinched the boy’s chin with a thumb and forefinger earning him a shy smile, “Exactly! Hojo.”
“But…”
Vincent hushed him with a finger to lips, a kiss to the forehead and another hug, “Are you sorry?” He murmured to the little body in his arms.
The boy nodded and gave a hitched little sob, his small hands fisting in Vincent’s mantle, “Yes. I am so very sorry.” Sephiroth clung as though he would be ripped away at any second and cast into the fires of Ifrit.
Vincent rubbed the boy’s back soothingly before whispering, “Then you are forgiven.”
Sephiroth pulled back and asked, at once both confused and hopeful, “Then, you don’t hate me?”
Vincent gave a most unexpected burst of laughter, and hastened to reassure when he saw that frightened suspicion pop back up on his son’s face, “Goddess no, Sephiroth! I’ll never hate you…ever.” He emphasized with a minute shake of the boy’s shoulder.
The smile that bloomed in response to that assurance lit Sephiroth’s beautiful face so that it would have melted the coldest heart. Vincent felt overwhelmed, speechless and no less joyous himself. These sensations were completely new, but most certainly not unpleasant.
...the story continues to its conclusion in Part 2