If I can stand up to angels and men
Characters: Vincent Valentine [notwhatiwas] and Lucrecia Crescent [intimacyphobic]
Location: Lucrecia's Room [Deck 07, 6366]
Date: July 23rd, after this.
Rating: PG-13
( I'll never get swallowed by darkness again. )
Location: Lucrecia's Room [Deck 07, 6366]
Date: July 23rd, after this.
Rating: PG-13
( I'll never get swallowed by darkness again. )
With Hojo back home, her future coming about her in ruins, she couldn't stand to lose Vincent, too. But she couldn't completely lie to the look in his eyes, the emotion in his voice... only stall.
"I-I don't know what you want, Vincent..." Her smile was forced once more, as tears welled in her eyes. "It's... it's nothing. I mean, they're all right: it's crackpot ideas, pipe dreams at best. I just wanted to prove the existence of some half-forgotten lesser god, and... it's not decent science at all"
"It was only published inside the company. I've never... never had a chance to complete the work and I didn't think I ever would after the accident, I--" She broke off and clammed up with a sob. She wanted the whole world to just stop turning and watch them all drift into outer space.
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...No. It couldn't--she wouldn't. But he knew the look on her face, recognized the way her words tumbled out. She wasn't lying, per se, but she clearly didn't want to talk about this.
Which meant that she already knew. She'd already realized--
No. He wouldn't believe it, couldn't accept it. Couldn't believe that this beautiful, brilliant woman would ever hurt him, ever use him the way all signs said she had.
She was crying, and it hurt to see, hurt to hear. He hated when she cried, hated making her cry, hated that he did it even like this. He pulled her close, turned and pushed her back against the door to her room, pressed against her and ducked his head.
And he kissed her.
Vincent loved Lucrecia with the better part of everything he had left. She meant as much to him as Veld did, had, and ever would. As much as anyone ever had, as much as anyone ever would. He wanted to believe her, wanted to know that she loved him back enough to say she would never do such a horrible thing.
It had never been her fault. If any of it had been her fault, then what was any of this even for? If she'd changed him of her own volition, if she'd done this of her own free will even after he'd died for her...
Thirty years, and somehow this still felt exactly the same.
After a long moment Vincent forced himself to pull away, just enough to whisper, his lips brushing her when they moved.
"Tell me he's lying." He leaned his forehead to hers, eyes closed and breathing low, clasped her hands in his and pleaded under his breath. "Please, Lu. Tell me he's lying."
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Lucrecia had known from the day they met she would hurt him, one way or another. It was sure as written in the stars. She had tried to halt the process, slow it down, but all around her was destruction, and it seemed, it would only worsen in the future. Hojo might feel like her world some days, but this man would always be both her heaven and hell, infinitely accessible and yet just out of reach, due to the chasm she continually carved between them.
She was quite certain in this moment the gods of this world hated her as surely as those at home did. She always wondered how much the Elders had laughed as she came into the world, sending the planets into a deep retrograde and spinning more merciful lights out of her path in oblivion.
Science truly was her only solace, her shield from the spiritual wrath, and yet, it held nothing but pain as well. She wondered just what she had done in a former life to deserve this karmic destiny, just what in her soul was so dark and bruised and broken that she could only feebly attempt to be the woman he loved, all the while sticking needles in his back.
The way he said please--her sins were coming for her. Caught up with her.
"Vincent..." Fresh tears stung her eyes but refused to fall, refused to give her any relief. "I wish... I wish I..."
Truth wasn't freeing at all, she thought bitterly, it was godsdamn death smirking around a corner. "I can't..."
"I'm sorry."
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Vincent pulled back enough to look at her, staring down with wide eyes for a long moment. He searched her face, every part of his denying what he'd just heard, searching for some justification, something that would make all of this a lie. Something that would make his world make sense again.
All he found were her tear-filled eyes and the bitter pain of honesty when it was clear all she wanted to do was lie.
Vincent's legs gave out.
He kept hold of her hands even as his knees hit the floor, as he crumpled into a barely upright pile of mythril-laced dark blue, and squeezed tight as he struggled to breathe, holding his head low.
This couldn't be. It couldn't.
He held on tight, still unwilling to let go, and wanted to scream.
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"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Vincent... Sorry... sorry..." In the back of her mind, she heard Chaos laughing with glee, somehow finding whatever vengeance he sought from her complete. Though... it wouldn't be complete until she was dead, would it?
She leaned, pressed against him, satisfied he didn't simply walk away, even if their present closeness was only a knotting of pain. "I... I can't even begin... no idea... what I was thinking... I don't... wish... the future... readily available... This is why... can't be... not... a good... woman."
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"I think that you happened to be available."
No idea what I was thinking.
"I don't know! I don't care!"
I'm so sorry.
"Just a little longer, Vincent."
She was still crying, and he wanted to hold her until she could stop, wanted to rock her back and forth and murmur into her hair that it was all right, it was all right, she'd done nothing wrong, nothing to be sorry for.
But he couldn't. He couldn't, because this...he couldn't blame himself for this. He'd never asked for it, never pushed for it. He couldn't absolve her for this. Even if she thought she'd been saving him, even if she'd thought she was doing the right thing--what kind of person did that to the man who loved so much all he wanted was to see them happy?
He was alive because of her, part of Vincent whispered. Veld said she'd saved him. But he'd been killed for her sake, been turned into a monster because of his failure to protect her--
But that wasn't so, was it? She'd lived. She'd gone on with her project even after his death, reopened old files while he came to pieces and turned into a god because he was readily available.
"I was wrong, wasn't I?" He said, raising his head. "Not just about Sephiroth. About everything. I was..." He blinked, pain deepening his features. "It wasn't...all my fault."
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"No... it's not your fault. It's... it's me, Vincent. I'm what killed you father, and I'll be the death of you, too. That's why... that's why..." She was murmuring softly, eyes distant, reciting private words in a speech she never found the courage to say. Even now, she was running out of nerve, trailing off into sad silence.
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Because he was wrong. For thirty years he'd been wrong, about so many things. Sephiroth, Hojo, Lucrecia, everything Vincent thought he knew was completely, utterly wrong. He wasn't sinless, but his transgressions as he knew them and the punishments he'd suffered were so completely out of sync with what it seemed had actually occurred all those years ago it made his head spin.
He was reminded of that final confrontation with Hojo, how he cackled and leaned back in his seat, so casual even in the growing storm that heralded Meteor.
"Did you really think he was yours?"
It had been a shock, a barb, and--later on, once he had time to think and breathe and understand--a relief. Sephiroth wasn't his. He hadn't embarked on a journey to help kill his own child. He hadn't allowed his son to be turned into a monster, a god in his own right, driven mad by the very company that raised him and destroyed by a young man who had once admired him so much. Somehow, the knowledge that Sephiroth was Hojo's child made Vincent feel almost...vindicated.
It had been too easy, then, to fall back into old patterns, to think back through the days in Nibelheim and find all the other places he'd done wrong, all the moments he could have changed history and failed. Too easy, while he was all alone far from humankind, to see that his sins ran even deeper than he'd ever thought.
"Do you think that sins can be forgiven?"
"I've never tried."
But maybe, just maybe, these sins had never been his in the first place. If Lucrecia could do this to the man who loved her so much, then she certainly could have done worse to her unborn child. Maybe she hadn't needed Hojo's urging, maybe she hadn't needed him pushing her and pushing her until she broke. Maybe she'd pushed herself.
Maybe Vincent couldn't have changed a thing.
...It was too much to grasp all at once, too much to hope to believe, but it planted a seed deep in his chest, a thought that perhaps he wasn't to blame. Maybe Veld was right, maybe he wasn't the only one whose actions in those days could have changed the world.
Vincent pulled back further to looked at Lucrecia, pushed himself to his feet, helped her up with him. Then he leaned in and, gently, pressed his lips to hers one more time.
"I love you," he breathed, voice utterly broken.
Then slowly, painfully, he released her hand and pulled away.
For the first time since Hojo's bullet pierced his chest, Vincent let go.
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I love you.
Say it, say it: return the sentiment. Her tongue was so heavy in her mouth, her lips paralyzed, tingling from his touch. There were words she could let breeze out, a few lilting half-truths that wouldn't hurt quite so much as misdirect, buy her some favor, spare her a little time, but some people weren't meant to be lied to, some subject weren't meant to be lied about.
The tone in his voice wrenched at her and as she looked away from him with a nod--a simple acknowledgment--some part of her briefly wished Hojo was there, a warm body to fling herself at, a distraction from the pain, arms to give her a quick squeeze before setting her right and putting her back to work.
Work... She had none here, she remembered. She had research, she had diversions, she even had the possibility of friends, but... no more projects. Nothing, nothing of her former life--because even Vincent would be gone after this. Why would he spend even another minute with her? This cruel mistress that had and would ruin him so completely. He... wasn't a fool.
She couldn't look at him, couldn't face his eyes once more. Her head hung low and she fidgeted, finally covering her face with her hands to keep herself from reaching for him. "I don't deserve it."
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Because that wasn't how love worked.
He swallowed thickly, took a deep breath and let it out slowly. This was still too much, too quickly--he couldn't stay here, no matter how much he wanted to. He couldn't make sense of it all here, around her. Couldn't put the pieces together to form the right image so long as she stood crying right in front of him.
So Vincent took hold of the doorknob, pulled the door open just enough to slip through, enough not to bump Lucrecia, and...hesitated. Eyes averted, head down.
"Thank you," he breathed. "I guess...I'm alive because of you."
He didn't always want to be, more than enough days had passed wherein he wished Hojo had just let him die, never brought him back in the first place, or that he was as mad as Lucrecia, mad enough to try to take his own life after everything finally settled. But that feeling was always so fleeting, barely a flicker of want in the back of his head, and Vincent had always known that wasn't where he was meant to be.
Maybe he'd been wrong about that too, but for right now he had too much to think on, too many broken memories to sort through to even think of being anywhere but here.
"Thank you."
Vincent left.
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