Midgar Burning Chapter 62
Title: Midgar Burning
Authors: silence_laughs and calvi_sama
Pairing: Cid x Vincent
Rating: NC-17 (eventually), most certainly R
Disclaimer: We do not in any way own, nor profit from, the characters and/or locations of FFVII, that would all be SquareEnix. Also any other references to persons or products mentioned herein are purely coincidental *coughs*, and where they are not then they belong to their respective writers, producers, directors, or other individuals/companies listed under that sneaky little thing called a "copyright".
Warnings: Adult themes, blood, some violence, language, kidnapping, torture, mentions of abuse, murder, and above all else...yaoi, the 'inappropriate to minors' kind, the 'makes us sit up past our bedtimes reading' kind, 'cause lets face it folks, it just wouldn't be the same without it! >:3
Summary: Even as Cid fights to show Vincent it’s okay to love again, Vincent’s enemies are moving in. Can Cid secure a place in Vincent’s heart before their world falls apart?
A/N: Two things folks: 1) This is an RP and 2) This fic is AU. The usual players here: silence = Cid, and all in Cid's world, and yours truly = Vincent, and all in Vin's world. Easiest way to say it. ^^ This fic is a 'novel'-form piece (ie multi-chapter) that is darker than what we normally write, and out of our comfort zone in the fact that we normally prefer to stick to canon-type stuff. But I got the idea from ani_mama 's artwork (more specifically this picture), persuaded silence to "go along with it", and it's been going 'full steam ahead' since then, and quite grown on us. We hope you all like it! Icon art provided by silk_weaver .
Note as of 1/28/19 - Another chapter. I'm sorry for any of you reading this, I was sitting on it. The fic is still alive. Out of the hundreds and hundreds of pages we've written together, this is the only one still being worked on. Both of us want to finish it, we're determined to finish it, and we're so close!. If you've lost interest, I don't blame you, this isn't exactly a fast moving turtle, and if you're still reading it, then I commend your endouring patience. We'd still love to hear from you, but we're realistic and know that you all have lives. Just know that this critter is still here if you ever get bored and decide to go digging around in nostalgic old fics. Enjoy. ^.^
Chapter 62
After getting off the phone with Reno, who had not taken this new news very well, and then Rude, who had taken the call with his usual stoic silence, Tseng took up a position against the wall. Here he began the arduous task, experienced by thousands of families in thousands of cities, of waiting. He had told Reno and Rude both to stay at the Tower and that he would inform them of Vincent’s progress. Again, Reno had not taken those instructions well, but in the end he had acquiesced reluctantly. This was going to be a long wait.
Four hours later, he was just about ready to pull his hair out. No one had come to talk to them and if he got one more sympathetic look then he would kill someone. Finally, he pushed himself off of the wall and stalked over to the receptionist fully intending to make a scene until someone told him what the hell was going on. He hadn’t quite made it there when he was halted by a familiar voice.
“Mr. Tseng?”
Turning, Tseng saw Dr. Paul Bugenhagen making his way towards them. The poor man looked worn out and despite his ire; he felt a stab of sympathy towards the doctor. “Doctor,” he acknowledged, extending his hand, which Dr. Bugenhagen shook wearily. Despite his exhausted appearance, the man’s grip was still firm. “What have you found?” Tseng desperately hoped for some good news.
“Well,” Bugenhagen sighed reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “It was what I was afraid would happen. He over-exerted himself. The metal fragment in his chest tore a hole in his heart, a small one, and thanks to the quick thinking of your man, Verdot, here there shouldn’t be any lasting damage as far as his heart goes. His lungs however are a different matter.” Dr. Bugenhagen motioned for them to sit. No one did, but he had to. He had been on his feet for nearly eight hours and if he didn’t sit down then he would fall down. Meeting all of their eyes in turn, he began to explain. “We were able to extract the metal fragment and repair the tiny hole in his heart. Now, given this young man’s rather unique physiology it probably would have healed on its own except the metal kept slicing open the new tissue as soon as it was generated. If I had to hazard a guess, the metal was probably cutting a new hole just as quickly as his body healed the old one, which would explain why his health had deteriorated the way it had. The reason I could come to this conclusion is-“
“Just tell us if he’s gonna be all right, doc!” Verdot interrupted, taking a menacing step forward but was halted by Tseng’s hand on his shoulder. Verdot shot him an evil look but stepped back obediently.
“He should be fine, the surgery went smoothly and his vitals stayed strong throughout, now may I continue my explanation?” Dr. Bugenhagen said, too tired to be properly intimidated by the scarred man. When no one else made a move to speak he nodded and continued. “The reason I was able to reach this conclusion was because of the scar tissue that was around the hole we found. The area of adhesion was far too large for the hole to have been a new occurrence. The human body, unique or not, can only take so much abuse, and it is my professional opinion that it had just… given up.”
Tseng’s face was set in a frown throughout the entire explanation. It was interesting; the doctor in him wanted to keep asking Bugenhagen more specific questions. If it had been anyone else besides Vincent, he would have. As it was, “You said something about his lungs?” he prompted gently.
Bugenhagen nodded. “Yes. Inside your lungs are millions of small, highly vascularized sacs called alveoli that are connected by bronchioles. Now, when Mr. Valentine was shot, the damage to his chest cavity was catastrophic, obliterating a large percentage of functional lung tissue. Much of that has healed with only a small amount of scarring, which in and of itself is truly remarkable. But the area around the metal fragment never got a chance to heal properly and the tissues remained inflamed and irritated. When we got in there, it looked as though his body had attempted to adapt to this foreign object. The alveoli in the area had died and were slowly being reabsorbed by the body. This created a very small pocket of dead space and could very well, along with the adhesions left over from the gunshot trauma, affect his breathing should he exert himself. I don’t think it should pose much of a problem, but there is always the chance that it could.” Bugenhagen rolled his broad shoulders and sighed when he heard a series of pops. “Mr. Valentine is currently resting as comfortably as he can. We had to go in through his back to extract the metal fragment, and again, given his physiology, he should be able to go home in a couple of days.”
Cid listened intently throughout the explanation, knowing that he had to have and understand all that information if he were to be of any use to Vincent. He wasn’t quite sure that he had a very firm grasp on all that lung stuff, but he got the message: Vincent was going to need to be alert about that for a long time, even once they were pretty sure it wouldn’t cause him any trouble.
His next thought was that the vacation he had finally gotten around to planning might have to be pushed back a few days, or even weeks, depending on whether Vincent healed as well as Bugenhagen thought he would.
His mind then turned to something else, which might be related and might be not at all related. “So his heart’s gonna be fine, but his lungs need healin’?” he mused, and then continued, “Midgar ain’t exactly a good place fer lungs."
Dr. Bugenhagan nodded. “Right you are, Mr. Highwing, which is why I’m going to recommend that Mr. Valentine leave Midgar for a week or so to get away from the dirty air here. He needs to heal properly, and inhaling all of the fumes here is not a good idea.” He turned to Tseng. “I’m going to insist that he remain here for the next couple of days to that we can make sure he’s healing as he should, and then I’ll agree to release him. I shouldn’t have agreed to it the first time.”
Cid, despite the gravity of the situation, grinned. “Well, that’s taken care of, the fumes. So when you’re decidin’ whether t’release ‘im, take inta consideration that he’s gonna be spendin’ a few days or so on the coast, whether he likes that ‘r not.”
He turned to Tseng. “I plan on bein’ back here fer the night an’ fer every day he’s gonna get stuck here, but t’day I need t’run back to the apartment, or have someone else go. What’s in the fridge needs t’freeze, an’ somebody’s gotta bring that little stuffed bandersnatch here fer Vincent.”
Tseng and Verdot looked each other with mirrored stunned expressions, then Verdot burst out laughing. Clapping Cid on the back he said, “Anything else you need, Junior?” Then he turned to Tseng and said, “I’ll take him back to the Tower if you wanna go see Vincent.”
Tseng nodded. “All right. Is that okay with you Cid?”
Cid crossed his arms at them. He supposed laughter was good in a situation like this, but he would prefer that it not be directed at him in the future. He nodded anyway and stood up, having no desire to be in a small, enclosed space with this man but seeing no other way to make sure everything got done. And while he was at it, he should probably shower and gather some clothes. A few days in the hospital was a long few days.
As the two men left the emergency room waiting area, Tseng turned back to Bugenhagen. “Two things doctor: may I visit Vincent? And is it going to be a problem to have Cid stay with him for the duration of Vincent’s stay here?”
Bugenhagen chuckled. “After what happened last time, I’m not going to stand in between those two. I don’t think hospital administration will either, for that matter. As for seeing Mr. Valentine, he’s still out, but you’re welcome to poke your head in to see him. Same rigamarole as last time: don’t stay too long, blah blah blah.”
Tseng grinned. “Yes, sir.” As the two men began to walk down the hall towards the elevator to take them to the surgery floor he said grimly. “I hope this is the last time I’ll be in here to see you, doctor, no offense.”
“None taken,” Bugenhagen said easily. “And no offense to you when I say that I also hope never to see you again in this setting.”
Tseng and Dr. Bugenhagan parted ways at the elevator after Bugenhagen told him which room Vincent was in. Shortly, Tseng found himself outside room 217. Knocking softly on the door, Tseng let himself into the dimly lit recovery room. Thankfully, Vincent had it to himself, the bed next to his standing empty. Vincent himself was lying face down on his own bed, a large bandage wrapping his chest. There was the soft hiss of the oxygen system, and the equally soft rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor, but that was where the similarities to his last stay ended. Vincent’s color was good and his breathing was easy. To Tseng, his friend just looked as if he was taking a much-needed nap. Tseng smiled to himself and had just turned to leave when a deep, hoarse voice croaked from the bed.
“I’m sorry.”
“Excuse me?” Tseng said turning back around to see Vincent looking at him out of eyes that were barely open.
“I messed up.”
“Yeah,” Tseng sighed, approaching the bed and sitting down in the chair that was next to it. “You did.”
“I suppose this is where,” Vincent winced as he tried to move, then gave up, “you tell me ‘I told you so’.”
Tseng shook his head. “No, I’m leaving that dubious honor to Cid, who is in a fine mood thanks to you. I don’t envy you niisan.”
“Oh shit,” Vincent groaned, coughing lightly and shutting his eyes. “He’s gonna kill me.”
“Probably,” Tseng said perhaps a little too cheerfully. “I hope you’ve learned something from this.”
“Maybe.” Vincent opened his eyes again. “But maybe not, you know how I am.”
“Indeed I do, little brother, indeed I do.” Tseng sighed, sobering. “You get this stubbornness from your father, you know.”
“I do not.”
“Yes, you do. Stubbornness from your father and your inability to listen from your mother. You, my friend, were jinxed when you were conceived.” Tseng chuckled.
Vincent groaned.
“Bugenhagen is keeping you here a couple of days, and Cid had mentioned something about the coast. I don’t know what he’s talking about, but I’m in full agreement.” Tseng said, raising an eyebrow.
“Is he here?” Vincent croaked.
“Not yet. But he’s probably on his way back as we speak.” Tseng replied crossing his legs. “I’m not supposed to stay long and I need to contact the Wutainese representative with an update as to your condition and conclude business. I suspect you’ll have to apologize to them when you’re able.”
“Lucky me,” Vincent sighed shallowly.
“Mm, lucky you indeed. Well, I just wanted to check on you and make sure you at least looked better than you did last time. I trust this is the last time you’re going to put yourself in the hospital?”
“God, yes,” Vincent replied. “I cannot stand this place. It smells.” As Tseng got up to leave he tried to make a grab for Tseng’s hand but couldn’t move his arm he was so weak. “Don’t leave me alone with him!” he pleaded.
Tseng paused looking back. “With whom? Cid?” He chuckled again. “Reap what you sow, little brother, reap what you sow.”
“Bastard,” Vincent grumbled.
“And you love it.” Tseng replied, standing up. “Good luck, Vincent, you’ll need it.” With that Tseng turned and left the hospital room.
In the time between Tseng’s leaving and Cid’s arrival, Vincent contemplated asking his nurse for the mako-enhanced painkillers in advance.
Cid was quiet on the way to the apartment, quick about his tasks there, and even quieter on the way back except for a quietly uttered word of gratitude as they arrived at the hospital again. He exercised enough in the way of manners to wait for Verdot to exit the car before heading into the building, but that was the end of it.
Cid had finally settled on an emotion for this, and that emotion was hurt. Vincent’s life was Vincent’s life, true, and if the man wanted to give it up that easily, then that choice was his. But Cid was a part of that life now, and Vincent’s life was a part of Cid’s, and by allowing himself to be so stupid as to nearly die from something against which he could have protected himself, he had threatened a large part of Cid’s life, and that was not his to destroy.
Cid’s thought process on the matter, of course, was much simpler: How dare he do that to me? He nearly regretted bringing Domino -Vincent didn’t really deserve him today, and Cid needed him more- but he was not so hurt or angry that he had no sympathy.
So when he was directed to Vincent’s room, Cid sat down in the closest chair silently and hugged Domino to himself, doing his best not to look at Vincent.
Vincent stared at Cid’s quiet, withdrawn features. Lifeless, he thought with great shame. He looks so… lifeless, and I did this to him. He didn’t speak. There were no words, no apologies, no actions or gifts or declarations that could possibly make up for the way he had hurt Cid. But dammit, he knows what my life is like! I tried to tell him, over and over… He turned his head away from Cid to stare at the far wall. He was taken back to that car ride through Sector Seven and he realized that this was just more of his punishment. To find something that made him inexplicably happy, only to prove to him once again that he was not worthy to have it. It was true, he wasn’t Rufus Shinra, but he was of the same ilk. He hurt people. That was what he did, what he was good at, so this shouldn’t surprise him. He wanted to tell Cid to go away, to go and get his things and move back to his own apartment, that he didn’t want to see Cid again, but he knew that was impossible now. His relationship to the ex-cop made him a target. Even if he discarded Cid, he would still care. Cid’s life would still be in danger, and for that, he wouldn’t be able live with himself. But that was just a technicality, wasn’t it? That wasn’t the worst part of it. The worst part was that he didn’t think he could live without Cid. He could exist, but he wouldn’t be alive. And that frightened him, robbing him of his limited breath. You love him, that’s why, a little voice in his mind said. That’s why it hurts so much.
After another several long, agonizing minutes of tense silence, Cid sighed and turned his face toward Vincent. Reaching out, he ran a tentative hand through the dark hair. Maybe he was still asleep; Tseng hadn’t said anything about that. Either way, Cid was now going to tell him the conclusion he’d come to in his own unending thoughts. “It’d be diff’rent, y’know, if somebody else did this to ya,” he whispered. “If y’d gotten shot again, ‘r caught off guard. But this time…y’did this on yer own, an’ I don’t know if it’s ‘cause you think yer invincible or if y’just don’t care. An’ either way, y’d better change yer attitude, ‘cause you ain’t invincible an’ I do care, dammit.” And if that wasn’t enough for Vincent, then Cid really didn’t know what else to say. “Brought ya Domino,” he added gruffly, still reluctant to hand over the toy. “But I don’t reckon he’ll be of much use to ya if y’gotta lay like that.”
Vincent shut his eyes. He took a shaky breath and said the words that were both difficult to say and equally as necessary, not knowing if they would do any good. “You’re right,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”
Cid opened his mouth to say just how close things had come to sorry not being nearly enough, but he closed it instead and moved his hand to rest on the back of Vincent’s neck. “Thank you.” He wasn’t sure if he really deserved an apology after the things he’d thought and felt, but he had no right to refuse it in any case.
Vincent still didn’t turn to face Cid, and the hand on his neck felt heavy and ominous instead of its usual welcome and soothing weight. “Are you going to leave?” he asked softly, his tone flat and defeated. He deserved to be left alone.
“Hell no,” Cid said, surprised. “We fought like hell fer me t’stay here last time, an’ I stayed then because I wanted to. I still want to.” He frowned. “But if y’want me to, I c’n disappear fer a while. D’rather not leave ya, if that means anything.”
“Good,” Vincent whispered. “I don’t want you to leave. I don’t ever want you to leave.” But for the life of me I don’t know why you continue to stay, he thought. Is your heart really that much in love, Cid?
“Good,” Cid replied, leaning over Vincent and brushing back hair to kiss his forehead. “I don’t ever wanna leave.” Or want you t’want me t’leave, but I wouldn’t listen anyway. “But I would like it if y’d look at me, so’s I c’n tell yer all right,” he said, a bit uncomfortably. Not having seen Vincent’s face was making him nervous.
Taking as deep a breath as he could manage, Vincent choked back his shame and slowly turned his head so that he could look at Cid. “I’m not all right, Cid,” he said, his voice shaky and his eyes lost and pleading. “I’m not all right at all.”
“You are,” Cid said desperately. “You’re just fine, an’ when y’get outta here, we’re goin’ away, just like we said. I’m takin’ ya away from this place. You’re gonna be even better after that.” He was confused; had something else happened that he didn’t know about? He thought it more likely that Vincent wasn’t referring to his physical state, but Cid had no way of knowing, and no way to assure him that he was perfect except to kiss him again.
“Yes,” Vincent breathed. “Away.” When they left Midgar he could finally be someone else. He could walk away from this life and all of its responsibilities and live only for the man he was with. He could get away from the starving faces of the children and damming eyes of the men and women whose lives he had helped to destroy. Why had I gone there? Why had I not sent Tseng in my stead? But what was done was done, and in an effort to at least attempt to look forward, he asked, “So where are you taking me? I know I’ve been too busy to follow up on that, but…” He looked away again, finding it difficult to meet Cid’s eyes for the guilt that was weighing him down.
Cid frowned again as Vincent looked away. Something else had happened. He wondered if Vincent would tell him about it. “Well, I finally got in touch with a travel agency, an’ they assured me there ain’t no air cleaner’n Costa del Sol, ‘cept maybe the Northern Continent, an’ that ain’t hardly vacation material. So I asked about private cabins an’ they told me about a private stretch o’ beach with a cabin, an’ I couldn’t say no. Couldn’t say yes, either, ‘cause I didn’t have th’money, but she said she’d hold it unless somebody else expressed int’rest. So what I’ll do is call back later t’night, an’ you c’n give me th’number t’give ‘em fer the funds, right?”
Vincent flashed a tentative smile. “Of course. I should like that I think.” He shut his eyes. “I should like that very much.”
“Good,” Cid said again, fingers stroking through Vincent’s hair once more. “Vincent?”
“Hm?” Vincent murmured, finally beginning to relax into Cid’s stroking.
He had been planning to ask what was bothering Vincent, but the other man seemed calmer now; his eyes were simply shut instead of squeezed tightly, and Cid smiled instead. “I love ya. I’m gonna stay here, but you might wanna get some sleep. I reckon t’morra y’ll have yer boys in here t’see ya.”
“Mm,” Vincent sighed. “I just want to heal, Cid. I just want to be whole again.” Dreams were nice, after all. Even impossible dreams. They were the best kind.
Cid pressed another kiss to Vincent’s forehead and didn’t answer. Instead, he grinned and stood up, and then eased himself onto the edge of the bed, lying on his side so he wouldn’t disturb Vincent. “I know a good kind o’ healin’,” he teased, head propped on one arm. “An’ I plan t’show ya just how it works when we get t’that cabin.”
“Is that right?” Vincent asked, coughing once with a little wince. It seemed like forever ago now that Cid had shown him just how much pleasure could be had at the hands of someone who loved you. He didn’t deserve it, but he played along anyway. “And would this unique brand of healing have anything to do with a certain obsession of yours, Cid?”
Cid laughed. “I thought it was you I’m obsessed with,” he teased. “But it has a lot t’do with sex an’ even more t’do with sleepin’, both o’ which I can only hope y’ll learn to appreciate as much as I do.”
Vincent shuddered when Cid had said sex. It wasn’t a shudder of revulsion, but one of sudden desire. He shut his eyes again as he tried to get his body under control. What is wrong with me? He thought as remembered feelings and sensations came back to him in a rush. I’m laying here in a fucking hospital bed having come out of surgery, I look like a fucking skeleton and all I can think about is Cid’s hands and mouth and… on me, and in me? “Maybe I will,” he said a little raggedly.
“We’ll hope so,” Cid said, grin having turned a little mischievous. Not today, but in a few days, when Vincent was healed enough, he’d make sure they got a damned good memory out of this hospital. For now, Cid kissed him again, and this kiss was the kind he wanted them all to be.
That kiss broke his heart. There was passion in it, wanting, desire, and promise all wrapped up into one sweet package. It also unsettled him and knocked him off balance. “I should probably sleep now,” he murmured. “Thank you for sitting with me.”
“I always will,” Cid promised, but nodded. “I’m gonna move on back t’the chair, ‘cause I don’t think it’d turn out too good if I fell asleep here.” He did as he said, and curled up with Domino again as he watched Vincent, now mostly relaxed, attempt to get to sleep. Cid hoped that when he found sleep, it would be restful.
Authors: silence_laughs and calvi_sama
Pairing: Cid x Vincent
Rating: NC-17 (eventually), most certainly R
Disclaimer: We do not in any way own, nor profit from, the characters and/or locations of FFVII, that would all be SquareEnix. Also any other references to persons or products mentioned herein are purely coincidental *coughs*, and where they are not then they belong to their respective writers, producers, directors, or other individuals/companies listed under that sneaky little thing called a "copyright".
Warnings: Adult themes, blood, some violence, language, kidnapping, torture, mentions of abuse, murder, and above all else...yaoi, the 'inappropriate to minors' kind, the 'makes us sit up past our bedtimes reading' kind, 'cause lets face it folks, it just wouldn't be the same without it! >:3
Summary: Even as Cid fights to show Vincent it’s okay to love again, Vincent’s enemies are moving in. Can Cid secure a place in Vincent’s heart before their world falls apart?
A/N: Two things folks: 1) This is an RP and 2) This fic is AU. The usual players here: silence = Cid, and all in Cid's world, and yours truly = Vincent, and all in Vin's world. Easiest way to say it. ^^ This fic is a 'novel'-form piece (ie multi-chapter) that is darker than what we normally write, and out of our comfort zone in the fact that we normally prefer to stick to canon-type stuff. But I got the idea from ani_mama 's artwork (more specifically this picture), persuaded silence to "go along with it", and it's been going 'full steam ahead' since then, and quite grown on us. We hope you all like it! Icon art provided by silk_weaver .
Note as of 1/28/19 - Another chapter. I'm sorry for any of you reading this, I was sitting on it. The fic is still alive. Out of the hundreds and hundreds of pages we've written together, this is the only one still being worked on. Both of us want to finish it, we're determined to finish it, and we're so close!. If you've lost interest, I don't blame you, this isn't exactly a fast moving turtle, and if you're still reading it, then I commend your endouring patience. We'd still love to hear from you, but we're realistic and know that you all have lives. Just know that this critter is still here if you ever get bored and decide to go digging around in nostalgic old fics. Enjoy. ^.^
Chapter 62
After getting off the phone with Reno, who had not taken this new news very well, and then Rude, who had taken the call with his usual stoic silence, Tseng took up a position against the wall. Here he began the arduous task, experienced by thousands of families in thousands of cities, of waiting. He had told Reno and Rude both to stay at the Tower and that he would inform them of Vincent’s progress. Again, Reno had not taken those instructions well, but in the end he had acquiesced reluctantly. This was going to be a long wait.
Four hours later, he was just about ready to pull his hair out. No one had come to talk to them and if he got one more sympathetic look then he would kill someone. Finally, he pushed himself off of the wall and stalked over to the receptionist fully intending to make a scene until someone told him what the hell was going on. He hadn’t quite made it there when he was halted by a familiar voice.
“Mr. Tseng?”
Turning, Tseng saw Dr. Paul Bugenhagen making his way towards them. The poor man looked worn out and despite his ire; he felt a stab of sympathy towards the doctor. “Doctor,” he acknowledged, extending his hand, which Dr. Bugenhagen shook wearily. Despite his exhausted appearance, the man’s grip was still firm. “What have you found?” Tseng desperately hoped for some good news.
“Well,” Bugenhagen sighed reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “It was what I was afraid would happen. He over-exerted himself. The metal fragment in his chest tore a hole in his heart, a small one, and thanks to the quick thinking of your man, Verdot, here there shouldn’t be any lasting damage as far as his heart goes. His lungs however are a different matter.” Dr. Bugenhagen motioned for them to sit. No one did, but he had to. He had been on his feet for nearly eight hours and if he didn’t sit down then he would fall down. Meeting all of their eyes in turn, he began to explain. “We were able to extract the metal fragment and repair the tiny hole in his heart. Now, given this young man’s rather unique physiology it probably would have healed on its own except the metal kept slicing open the new tissue as soon as it was generated. If I had to hazard a guess, the metal was probably cutting a new hole just as quickly as his body healed the old one, which would explain why his health had deteriorated the way it had. The reason I could come to this conclusion is-“
“Just tell us if he’s gonna be all right, doc!” Verdot interrupted, taking a menacing step forward but was halted by Tseng’s hand on his shoulder. Verdot shot him an evil look but stepped back obediently.
“He should be fine, the surgery went smoothly and his vitals stayed strong throughout, now may I continue my explanation?” Dr. Bugenhagen said, too tired to be properly intimidated by the scarred man. When no one else made a move to speak he nodded and continued. “The reason I was able to reach this conclusion was because of the scar tissue that was around the hole we found. The area of adhesion was far too large for the hole to have been a new occurrence. The human body, unique or not, can only take so much abuse, and it is my professional opinion that it had just… given up.”
Tseng’s face was set in a frown throughout the entire explanation. It was interesting; the doctor in him wanted to keep asking Bugenhagen more specific questions. If it had been anyone else besides Vincent, he would have. As it was, “You said something about his lungs?” he prompted gently.
Bugenhagen nodded. “Yes. Inside your lungs are millions of small, highly vascularized sacs called alveoli that are connected by bronchioles. Now, when Mr. Valentine was shot, the damage to his chest cavity was catastrophic, obliterating a large percentage of functional lung tissue. Much of that has healed with only a small amount of scarring, which in and of itself is truly remarkable. But the area around the metal fragment never got a chance to heal properly and the tissues remained inflamed and irritated. When we got in there, it looked as though his body had attempted to adapt to this foreign object. The alveoli in the area had died and were slowly being reabsorbed by the body. This created a very small pocket of dead space and could very well, along with the adhesions left over from the gunshot trauma, affect his breathing should he exert himself. I don’t think it should pose much of a problem, but there is always the chance that it could.” Bugenhagen rolled his broad shoulders and sighed when he heard a series of pops. “Mr. Valentine is currently resting as comfortably as he can. We had to go in through his back to extract the metal fragment, and again, given his physiology, he should be able to go home in a couple of days.”
Cid listened intently throughout the explanation, knowing that he had to have and understand all that information if he were to be of any use to Vincent. He wasn’t quite sure that he had a very firm grasp on all that lung stuff, but he got the message: Vincent was going to need to be alert about that for a long time, even once they were pretty sure it wouldn’t cause him any trouble.
His next thought was that the vacation he had finally gotten around to planning might have to be pushed back a few days, or even weeks, depending on whether Vincent healed as well as Bugenhagen thought he would.
His mind then turned to something else, which might be related and might be not at all related. “So his heart’s gonna be fine, but his lungs need healin’?” he mused, and then continued, “Midgar ain’t exactly a good place fer lungs."
Dr. Bugenhagan nodded. “Right you are, Mr. Highwing, which is why I’m going to recommend that Mr. Valentine leave Midgar for a week or so to get away from the dirty air here. He needs to heal properly, and inhaling all of the fumes here is not a good idea.” He turned to Tseng. “I’m going to insist that he remain here for the next couple of days to that we can make sure he’s healing as he should, and then I’ll agree to release him. I shouldn’t have agreed to it the first time.”
Cid, despite the gravity of the situation, grinned. “Well, that’s taken care of, the fumes. So when you’re decidin’ whether t’release ‘im, take inta consideration that he’s gonna be spendin’ a few days or so on the coast, whether he likes that ‘r not.”
He turned to Tseng. “I plan on bein’ back here fer the night an’ fer every day he’s gonna get stuck here, but t’day I need t’run back to the apartment, or have someone else go. What’s in the fridge needs t’freeze, an’ somebody’s gotta bring that little stuffed bandersnatch here fer Vincent.”
Tseng and Verdot looked each other with mirrored stunned expressions, then Verdot burst out laughing. Clapping Cid on the back he said, “Anything else you need, Junior?” Then he turned to Tseng and said, “I’ll take him back to the Tower if you wanna go see Vincent.”
Tseng nodded. “All right. Is that okay with you Cid?”
Cid crossed his arms at them. He supposed laughter was good in a situation like this, but he would prefer that it not be directed at him in the future. He nodded anyway and stood up, having no desire to be in a small, enclosed space with this man but seeing no other way to make sure everything got done. And while he was at it, he should probably shower and gather some clothes. A few days in the hospital was a long few days.
As the two men left the emergency room waiting area, Tseng turned back to Bugenhagen. “Two things doctor: may I visit Vincent? And is it going to be a problem to have Cid stay with him for the duration of Vincent’s stay here?”
Bugenhagen chuckled. “After what happened last time, I’m not going to stand in between those two. I don’t think hospital administration will either, for that matter. As for seeing Mr. Valentine, he’s still out, but you’re welcome to poke your head in to see him. Same rigamarole as last time: don’t stay too long, blah blah blah.”
Tseng grinned. “Yes, sir.” As the two men began to walk down the hall towards the elevator to take them to the surgery floor he said grimly. “I hope this is the last time I’ll be in here to see you, doctor, no offense.”
“None taken,” Bugenhagen said easily. “And no offense to you when I say that I also hope never to see you again in this setting.”
Tseng and Dr. Bugenhagan parted ways at the elevator after Bugenhagen told him which room Vincent was in. Shortly, Tseng found himself outside room 217. Knocking softly on the door, Tseng let himself into the dimly lit recovery room. Thankfully, Vincent had it to himself, the bed next to his standing empty. Vincent himself was lying face down on his own bed, a large bandage wrapping his chest. There was the soft hiss of the oxygen system, and the equally soft rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor, but that was where the similarities to his last stay ended. Vincent’s color was good and his breathing was easy. To Tseng, his friend just looked as if he was taking a much-needed nap. Tseng smiled to himself and had just turned to leave when a deep, hoarse voice croaked from the bed.
“I’m sorry.”
“Excuse me?” Tseng said turning back around to see Vincent looking at him out of eyes that were barely open.
“I messed up.”
“Yeah,” Tseng sighed, approaching the bed and sitting down in the chair that was next to it. “You did.”
“I suppose this is where,” Vincent winced as he tried to move, then gave up, “you tell me ‘I told you so’.”
Tseng shook his head. “No, I’m leaving that dubious honor to Cid, who is in a fine mood thanks to you. I don’t envy you niisan.”
“Oh shit,” Vincent groaned, coughing lightly and shutting his eyes. “He’s gonna kill me.”
“Probably,” Tseng said perhaps a little too cheerfully. “I hope you’ve learned something from this.”
“Maybe.” Vincent opened his eyes again. “But maybe not, you know how I am.”
“Indeed I do, little brother, indeed I do.” Tseng sighed, sobering. “You get this stubbornness from your father, you know.”
“I do not.”
“Yes, you do. Stubbornness from your father and your inability to listen from your mother. You, my friend, were jinxed when you were conceived.” Tseng chuckled.
Vincent groaned.
“Bugenhagen is keeping you here a couple of days, and Cid had mentioned something about the coast. I don’t know what he’s talking about, but I’m in full agreement.” Tseng said, raising an eyebrow.
“Is he here?” Vincent croaked.
“Not yet. But he’s probably on his way back as we speak.” Tseng replied crossing his legs. “I’m not supposed to stay long and I need to contact the Wutainese representative with an update as to your condition and conclude business. I suspect you’ll have to apologize to them when you’re able.”
“Lucky me,” Vincent sighed shallowly.
“Mm, lucky you indeed. Well, I just wanted to check on you and make sure you at least looked better than you did last time. I trust this is the last time you’re going to put yourself in the hospital?”
“God, yes,” Vincent replied. “I cannot stand this place. It smells.” As Tseng got up to leave he tried to make a grab for Tseng’s hand but couldn’t move his arm he was so weak. “Don’t leave me alone with him!” he pleaded.
Tseng paused looking back. “With whom? Cid?” He chuckled again. “Reap what you sow, little brother, reap what you sow.”
“Bastard,” Vincent grumbled.
“And you love it.” Tseng replied, standing up. “Good luck, Vincent, you’ll need it.” With that Tseng turned and left the hospital room.
In the time between Tseng’s leaving and Cid’s arrival, Vincent contemplated asking his nurse for the mako-enhanced painkillers in advance.
Cid was quiet on the way to the apartment, quick about his tasks there, and even quieter on the way back except for a quietly uttered word of gratitude as they arrived at the hospital again. He exercised enough in the way of manners to wait for Verdot to exit the car before heading into the building, but that was the end of it.
Cid had finally settled on an emotion for this, and that emotion was hurt. Vincent’s life was Vincent’s life, true, and if the man wanted to give it up that easily, then that choice was his. But Cid was a part of that life now, and Vincent’s life was a part of Cid’s, and by allowing himself to be so stupid as to nearly die from something against which he could have protected himself, he had threatened a large part of Cid’s life, and that was not his to destroy.
Cid’s thought process on the matter, of course, was much simpler: How dare he do that to me? He nearly regretted bringing Domino -Vincent didn’t really deserve him today, and Cid needed him more- but he was not so hurt or angry that he had no sympathy.
So when he was directed to Vincent’s room, Cid sat down in the closest chair silently and hugged Domino to himself, doing his best not to look at Vincent.
Vincent stared at Cid’s quiet, withdrawn features. Lifeless, he thought with great shame. He looks so… lifeless, and I did this to him. He didn’t speak. There were no words, no apologies, no actions or gifts or declarations that could possibly make up for the way he had hurt Cid. But dammit, he knows what my life is like! I tried to tell him, over and over… He turned his head away from Cid to stare at the far wall. He was taken back to that car ride through Sector Seven and he realized that this was just more of his punishment. To find something that made him inexplicably happy, only to prove to him once again that he was not worthy to have it. It was true, he wasn’t Rufus Shinra, but he was of the same ilk. He hurt people. That was what he did, what he was good at, so this shouldn’t surprise him. He wanted to tell Cid to go away, to go and get his things and move back to his own apartment, that he didn’t want to see Cid again, but he knew that was impossible now. His relationship to the ex-cop made him a target. Even if he discarded Cid, he would still care. Cid’s life would still be in danger, and for that, he wouldn’t be able live with himself. But that was just a technicality, wasn’t it? That wasn’t the worst part of it. The worst part was that he didn’t think he could live without Cid. He could exist, but he wouldn’t be alive. And that frightened him, robbing him of his limited breath. You love him, that’s why, a little voice in his mind said. That’s why it hurts so much.
After another several long, agonizing minutes of tense silence, Cid sighed and turned his face toward Vincent. Reaching out, he ran a tentative hand through the dark hair. Maybe he was still asleep; Tseng hadn’t said anything about that. Either way, Cid was now going to tell him the conclusion he’d come to in his own unending thoughts. “It’d be diff’rent, y’know, if somebody else did this to ya,” he whispered. “If y’d gotten shot again, ‘r caught off guard. But this time…y’did this on yer own, an’ I don’t know if it’s ‘cause you think yer invincible or if y’just don’t care. An’ either way, y’d better change yer attitude, ‘cause you ain’t invincible an’ I do care, dammit.” And if that wasn’t enough for Vincent, then Cid really didn’t know what else to say. “Brought ya Domino,” he added gruffly, still reluctant to hand over the toy. “But I don’t reckon he’ll be of much use to ya if y’gotta lay like that.”
Vincent shut his eyes. He took a shaky breath and said the words that were both difficult to say and equally as necessary, not knowing if they would do any good. “You’re right,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”
Cid opened his mouth to say just how close things had come to sorry not being nearly enough, but he closed it instead and moved his hand to rest on the back of Vincent’s neck. “Thank you.” He wasn’t sure if he really deserved an apology after the things he’d thought and felt, but he had no right to refuse it in any case.
Vincent still didn’t turn to face Cid, and the hand on his neck felt heavy and ominous instead of its usual welcome and soothing weight. “Are you going to leave?” he asked softly, his tone flat and defeated. He deserved to be left alone.
“Hell no,” Cid said, surprised. “We fought like hell fer me t’stay here last time, an’ I stayed then because I wanted to. I still want to.” He frowned. “But if y’want me to, I c’n disappear fer a while. D’rather not leave ya, if that means anything.”
“Good,” Vincent whispered. “I don’t want you to leave. I don’t ever want you to leave.” But for the life of me I don’t know why you continue to stay, he thought. Is your heart really that much in love, Cid?
“Good,” Cid replied, leaning over Vincent and brushing back hair to kiss his forehead. “I don’t ever wanna leave.” Or want you t’want me t’leave, but I wouldn’t listen anyway. “But I would like it if y’d look at me, so’s I c’n tell yer all right,” he said, a bit uncomfortably. Not having seen Vincent’s face was making him nervous.
Taking as deep a breath as he could manage, Vincent choked back his shame and slowly turned his head so that he could look at Cid. “I’m not all right, Cid,” he said, his voice shaky and his eyes lost and pleading. “I’m not all right at all.”
“You are,” Cid said desperately. “You’re just fine, an’ when y’get outta here, we’re goin’ away, just like we said. I’m takin’ ya away from this place. You’re gonna be even better after that.” He was confused; had something else happened that he didn’t know about? He thought it more likely that Vincent wasn’t referring to his physical state, but Cid had no way of knowing, and no way to assure him that he was perfect except to kiss him again.
“Yes,” Vincent breathed. “Away.” When they left Midgar he could finally be someone else. He could walk away from this life and all of its responsibilities and live only for the man he was with. He could get away from the starving faces of the children and damming eyes of the men and women whose lives he had helped to destroy. Why had I gone there? Why had I not sent Tseng in my stead? But what was done was done, and in an effort to at least attempt to look forward, he asked, “So where are you taking me? I know I’ve been too busy to follow up on that, but…” He looked away again, finding it difficult to meet Cid’s eyes for the guilt that was weighing him down.
Cid frowned again as Vincent looked away. Something else had happened. He wondered if Vincent would tell him about it. “Well, I finally got in touch with a travel agency, an’ they assured me there ain’t no air cleaner’n Costa del Sol, ‘cept maybe the Northern Continent, an’ that ain’t hardly vacation material. So I asked about private cabins an’ they told me about a private stretch o’ beach with a cabin, an’ I couldn’t say no. Couldn’t say yes, either, ‘cause I didn’t have th’money, but she said she’d hold it unless somebody else expressed int’rest. So what I’ll do is call back later t’night, an’ you c’n give me th’number t’give ‘em fer the funds, right?”
Vincent flashed a tentative smile. “Of course. I should like that I think.” He shut his eyes. “I should like that very much.”
“Good,” Cid said again, fingers stroking through Vincent’s hair once more. “Vincent?”
“Hm?” Vincent murmured, finally beginning to relax into Cid’s stroking.
He had been planning to ask what was bothering Vincent, but the other man seemed calmer now; his eyes were simply shut instead of squeezed tightly, and Cid smiled instead. “I love ya. I’m gonna stay here, but you might wanna get some sleep. I reckon t’morra y’ll have yer boys in here t’see ya.”
“Mm,” Vincent sighed. “I just want to heal, Cid. I just want to be whole again.” Dreams were nice, after all. Even impossible dreams. They were the best kind.
Cid pressed another kiss to Vincent’s forehead and didn’t answer. Instead, he grinned and stood up, and then eased himself onto the edge of the bed, lying on his side so he wouldn’t disturb Vincent. “I know a good kind o’ healin’,” he teased, head propped on one arm. “An’ I plan t’show ya just how it works when we get t’that cabin.”
“Is that right?” Vincent asked, coughing once with a little wince. It seemed like forever ago now that Cid had shown him just how much pleasure could be had at the hands of someone who loved you. He didn’t deserve it, but he played along anyway. “And would this unique brand of healing have anything to do with a certain obsession of yours, Cid?”
Cid laughed. “I thought it was you I’m obsessed with,” he teased. “But it has a lot t’do with sex an’ even more t’do with sleepin’, both o’ which I can only hope y’ll learn to appreciate as much as I do.”
Vincent shuddered when Cid had said sex. It wasn’t a shudder of revulsion, but one of sudden desire. He shut his eyes again as he tried to get his body under control. What is wrong with me? He thought as remembered feelings and sensations came back to him in a rush. I’m laying here in a fucking hospital bed having come out of surgery, I look like a fucking skeleton and all I can think about is Cid’s hands and mouth and… on me, and in me? “Maybe I will,” he said a little raggedly.
“We’ll hope so,” Cid said, grin having turned a little mischievous. Not today, but in a few days, when Vincent was healed enough, he’d make sure they got a damned good memory out of this hospital. For now, Cid kissed him again, and this kiss was the kind he wanted them all to be.
That kiss broke his heart. There was passion in it, wanting, desire, and promise all wrapped up into one sweet package. It also unsettled him and knocked him off balance. “I should probably sleep now,” he murmured. “Thank you for sitting with me.”
“I always will,” Cid promised, but nodded. “I’m gonna move on back t’the chair, ‘cause I don’t think it’d turn out too good if I fell asleep here.” He did as he said, and curled up with Domino again as he watched Vincent, now mostly relaxed, attempt to get to sleep. Cid hoped that when he found sleep, it would be restful.