Leopard Print Loincloth: Part 4 (final part)
Pairings: Cid/Vincent (FFVII)
Summary: We'll keep you safe, In the jungle forevermore, That's what friends are for... Vincent's a Jungle Native, and Cid's experiencing a bad case of CASTAWAY. What more do you need to know? >:D
Warnings: SO TOTALLY NOT PROOF READ. IN RAW FORMAT. DON'T BLAME US IF IT'S ILLEGIBLE. Also, this is an AU RP (duh!), and here be loincloths, sex between men, dirty talking, white western supremacy, swearing, angst, lazy endings, and yes, fictional animals were hurt in the production of this story. But were very, very tasty, so it's ok.
Disclaimer: Square Enix owns Cid and Vincent, the rest is sadly our own mad-cap invention. XD
Previous Chapters: Part One (illustrated), Part Two, Part Three
Part Four
Cid spends a long time in their little swimming alcove, their piece of Eden. He sits under one of the waterfalls, letting the water pummel the back of his neck and shoulders, and thinks gloomily.
He finally makes up his mind. He'll ask Vincent to come with him. But if Vincent didn't want to leave, he'd stay, and ask that Byron continue as Captain, and visit every 4 months or so as they made their journey across the waters. Perhaps if things went well enough, he and Vincent could take off and travel with them for a few months, before returning again. Perhaps make half-years of it. There could be no better solution, surely.
But either way, he was staying with Vincent. He loved Byron and his crew more than he could express, but the same went for Vincent. His crew were his family, but Vincent was his lover, his other half. There could be no life without Vincent.
Fingertips pruning, Cid makes his way back to their cave, feeling lighter that he's worked out a reasonable solution, one that should make everyone happy - perhaps not overjoyed, but hopefully workable. Byron will still be hurt, but he'll come to understand.
Vincent's in front of the cave, tying up a series of packages, seemingly excited and light-hearted.
Cid smiles as he sees Vincent.
Can't sleep? He asks, approaching the man.
No, he answers, smiling widely, beaming at Cid. He comes up to the blond, and pulls him over to the pile he'd made. I've been packing!
Cid looks at the bundles curiously.
"Packing for wh......." Cid's sentence dies out with realisation, and he can't help but feel the flutter of hope, a smile tugging his mouth. "To go? You want us to go with my friends?"
"Us....? No, no!" Vincent denies happily. "Cid, Cid's things!" He says, going to crouch by the bundles, looking up proudly, as if expecting praise.
Looking confused again, and feeling an entirely differently, less pleasant flutter in his stomach, Cid comes to crouch down by Vincent's side.
Why are you packing my things?
So you can be ready to go by morning, Vincent says, his smile wilting under confusion. You don't have much, but I packed it all up for you!
I didn't want you to do that, Cid says, dragging a bag to him and starting to unpack it obstinately.
"We aint even discussed this yet. I don't want to go without you."
Vincent looks between Cid and the bag, confusion mounting. Why?
Why?! Cid repeats incredulously. "Because I love you! Because yer my other half. Yer my angel. We can go tegether, or we can stay here, I don't care, but I wanna be with you, goddamnit!" He says, half-angry, half earnestly desperate, ripping things from his bag and dumping them on the ground with sharp, powerful actions of his arm.
I love you too, Vincent says awkwardly. Like a child loves their father. You don't... I mean, you don't think that we're... like that, do you? It's common among my people for men of higher station to take men as lovers. Isn't that what you wanted...? A companion...? Do you not do that with your people...?
Cid's face goes ashen, his body still, limp.
"...........what?"
Vincent smiles uncertainly. "I love you." I love you. There's no reason to be sad. I love you. And you can always visit! He says, trying to catch Cid's eye, trying to reassure him.
Visit? Cid repeats, like he can't quite get his mouth around the atrocity of the word.
"I don't... I don't want te visit. I want te be with you. Don't.... Ye must feel the same. Ye must!" He argues, distraught. It didn't make sense; it couldn't make sense. This whole time, it couldn't have just been, what, hero worship? Pity? A fling? No, that didn't make sense. Cid refused to believe it.
I love you, Vincent says again, confusion etched on his features. His hands go to Cid's face cherishingly. I do. Why are you so sad?
Cid pulls Vincent's hands from his face and holds them in his own. He looks into Vincent's eyes desperately.
"If ye love me, why do ye want me to go? Don't ye want me te live here with you? Don't ye want te come with me?"
Because I don't belong there. I belong here. With my people. You belong with yours. With you gone, I can return to my village and my ways. With me gone, you can go home too, return to the things that make you Cid. You can marry, have children, make friends. We don't need each other anymore. Vincent's hands curl over Cid's, very much the understanding, patient friend.
Cid can't - refuses - to believe what he's hearing, his face creasing in pain as Vincent talks down to him, and tears burn treacherously in his blue eyes, but he doesn't let them fall.
"But I need you," he says, his voice breaking on the words, his hands tightening on Vincent's, clinging.
"No," he says softly, drawing one hand away to cup Cid's face. You don't need me. Not anymore. What you need, is to go home. To go home, Cid. You don't have a place here.
Cid's head drops, and his hands do too, falling limply in his lap. He scrunches his eyes closed, and tries to soak up the last warmth Vincent gives him by the gentle hand on his face. This was worse than Byron asking him to leave, worse than any kind of pain he'd felt before.
Cid suddenly, painfully, becomes aware that he's overstaying his welcome. Vincent had packed his things. The hunter clearly had been too happy to see Cid gone from his home. To return to his people. So Vincent -had- been ostracized because of him? Just another knife to twist in his heart.
Cid tears his face from Vincent's hand and gets up, not looking at the man, staggering to the cave exit, taking nothing with him but the shorts and amulet he wore.
"I don't want any of it," he says hoarsely, before Vincent can protest and drag this out any longer. "The only thing I want I can't take, and it doesn't want me anyway. I hope.... I hope you have a happy life, V- Buinsen."
Vincent rises with him, looking after him mournfully. I do... care for you. But I don't love you. As a man, I respect you. But I don't need you, and you don't need me - don't love me. You're confused, starved of love - you don't love me, you just rely on me. And... I don't rely on you Cid. Please, don't make it any harder for yourself. Don't leave this way. Just accept that I don't love you; it's the only way to move past this. Don't hurt yourself over nothing.
Cid stands there, his back to Vincent, for a long moment. Then he grabs up his spear and, in one fluid, dramatic action, snaps it in half over his knee, tossing the parts aside. He turns around and storms up to the hunter, grabbing Vincent by the throat and backing the man up until Vincent hits the cave wall. Then Cid descends on him, kissing Vincent hard, almost savagely.
Cid stops when the salt of his tears run into the kiss.
Then just as abruptly, Cid turns away and moves off into the night, walking away from their cave, home, life - forever.
Vincent watches him go, panting still, and absently wipes the back of his hand over his mouth. His legs, weak with fear and unassailable pain, give beneath him and he slides down the using first one hand, and then both, to cover his mouth, to muffle his sobs. All he could think was, This isn't over. This isn't over yet. Oh gods.
Cid stumbles through the jungle in no particular direction. His eyes burn, are blurry and wet, and his legs feel weak, his knees half-giving out on him now and then so he has to grab onto a tree to right himself, to keep going, to get as far away from his heartache as he possibly can.
His hands suddenly go to his stomach, as if he's been shot, and he doubles over, dry heaving, collapsing to his knees and choking and sobbing over the damp soil, out of his mind with grief.
There's a rustle in the trees ahead of him, growing closer, louder. It stops, suddenly.
"Cid? Oh my God... Cid, Cid are you all right?"
Big, warm hands are on him then, and the smells of civilisation - soap, gin, cologne - assail him.
Cid lurches a few more times, trying to throw up something that wasn't there, and then collapses into the support of the hands, crying frustratedly, ashamedly, broken.
The hands clutch him close, then stroke down his back, soothing him. The great form - which could only be Byron - began to rock him.
"It's okay, it's going to be okay, just hold onto me, hold on tight-"
Cid presses into Byron's strong body, his warmth, leaning on him, relying on him.
"....God pl...eaes.... Take me a-way from 'ere..."
"Of course, Cid, hold on, I'm gonna take you to my tent, get you some clothes - something to drink to help you sleep. Okay?" He softly encourages, hauling Cid up against him, and helping him to walk. "You're going to be okay, it's all over, it's all over now...." Under the cover of the dark night, the beach thankfully empty of anything but the fire, Byron sneaks Cid into his own massive tent - the Captain's tent. He eases Cid to a seat on the bedroll, and goes about getting Cid settled in. Beneath his concern for Cid, his sense of triumph, was the very sincere worry that he'd made a very grave mistake.
Cid sits listlessly on the bedroll, staring off into space, the walk having sobered him up a little. He looks awful, pale, haunted, like he's seen the ghost of his dead mother walking. It's hard to tell if he's even really aware of where he is, or what Byron's been saying to him.
Byron returns to Cid's side with a basin of warm soapy water, and a thick cloth, and begins to wash Cid's face, down to his neck and shoulders. "What happened?" He asks softly, as if he hadn't the slightest inkling.
The corners of Cid's eyes crinkle into pained lines, but otherwise his face remains blank, lifeless.
"'E said..." Cid starts hoarsely, and has to clear his throat to get rid of the scratch. "..Said......" He drifts off. He can't bring himself to say it, can't bring himself to think on it.
Byron's hand slows. "... I see," is all he says, gentle, warm. He finishes cleaning Cid in the silence, shaving him, and finally dressing him.
"Sleep," he urges. "We'll be free of this damnable island by morning. Better memories are waiting for you. Sleep. I'll be here. I'll never leave your side." He presses the blond to lie back, and sweeps back the golden hair, tenderly, lovingly.
Cid's face creases in pain at Byron's gentle touch, and he slowly turns away, curling on his side, back to the rest of the room, and to Byron.
The sun draws up over the horizon, a hot orange sphere straining to wilt and stain all in its path. The heat wasn't as bad the humidity, drawing sweat out of even the driest bodies, and the smell of salt and balmy vegetation wafted on the cool breezes that frequented the shore. The tents were folded up, their contents all stowed and being brought aboard the massive cruiser-class ship anchored in the ocean in slow, small waves of rowboats. Most of the crew was already aboard, but Cid and Byron remained on the beach, dressed identically in thin white linen suits, supervising the loading process.
From out of the treeline, Vincent's pale, slender form slinks, spear in hand.
Cid watches the boats, although the glassy look in his eyes indicates he's perhaps seeing through the vista, still trapped in his thoughts. Despite the shave and wash and clean clothes, he still looks like Death warmed up, clearly not having slept much in the night. His eyes are lined and red, his mouth down-turned, his posture sagging. A strong breeze could blow him over, and he probably would go down and stay down without a fight.
He blinks slowly, seeing the pale and dark-haired figure emerge out of the corner of his eye as if in a dream. He turns and looks at Vincent, and his heart seizes up, part of him wanting to take Vincent in his arms, another part wanting to walk away.
His hands curl, his throat closes up. He doesn't say anything, just looks at Vincent with what he tries to make a neutral expression, but only looks like a kicked puppy, half hopeful for affection, half fearful for more hurt, and mostly betrayed.
"What are you doing here?" Byron hisses.
Vincent says nothing, looking mutely at Cid, expression unreadable. He moves no closer.
".... come on, Cid," Byron says finally. "There's nothing keeping us here." He starts to steer Cid away, towards a waiting boat.
He drags his feet, but Cid still moves with Byron, his gaze locked on Vincent.
"Wait," he says hoarsely, grabbing at Byron's arm.
Byron slows to a stop, and turns Cid to face him, earnestly trying to catch his eyes. "Cid... don't do this to yourself. He's hurt you enough, just let him go."
Cid looks like he's about to protest, but in the end doesn't bother, scrunching his face up in frustration, anger, and pushes Byron away, running a few steps back towards Vincent. He slows to a stop when they're still a few meters apart. He looks at Vincent, waiting, wanting to know why the native was here.
"Say goodbye," Vincent says softly. He raises a hand, and waves goodbye to Cid.
Cid stands there, too shocked, pained, incredulous to react. Then, woodenly, he turns around and starts walking back to Byron and their row boat.
Byron guides him to the rowboat, handling him preciously and sending venomous glares over his shoulder at Vincent. They kicked off from the shore, and out to the ship, the last of anything worth taking from the island. Byron allowed Cid to climb up first, and followed after. They hauled up the boat and fastened it, and Byron left Cid's side to see to their leaving.
"You know where to find me, if you need me," the big man assured, gripping Cid's arms and pressing a kiss to Cid's forehead. He gives him a small smile, and then leaves Cid to himself.
After a few minutes, the ship begins to move away from the island. All that's left to be seen is the shrinking island, and Vincent waving his melancholy goodbye.
Cid stands at the stern of the ship, watching his home for the past year, and what he thought had been his lover, slowly growing smaller and smaller. He refrains himself from waving. It would feel too much like forgiveness; too much like an acknowledgement that it was over.
He prays for another storm, and hopes that this one actually finishes him off.
Vincent waits until he can no longer see Cid on the ship, until the boat became that wall that had haunted Cid for so long, and slowed his waving. His chest hitched, his throat tight; his spear hit the sand at his feet, and he began to inch back into the forest, sobs steadily growing, building in his mouth, stopping up his breath, his eyes swelling with tears. As soon as he cleared the tree line, he turned about, and ran.
He stumbled, fell, sobbing, crying, scratching himself, twisting his limbs painfully, desperate to get away, to run away from the ache, but it clung to him hard, tenacious. He clawed his way up every time, and just ran and ran and ran...
As he came up on the cave, gasping, crying breathlessly, he abruptly sucked in a hard breath and screamed for all he was worth, over and over again, descending into banshee wails of terror and pain. Below the mountain, villagers froze, wide-eyed and frightened at the inhuman sound, even as hunters returned with tales of a white spirit wreaking havoc in the jungle, weeping and wailing openly.
The native stumbled into the cave, and with animalistic roars and broken cries, began to tear apart their home, breaking and smashing and clawing anything he could get his hands on, writhing in his mess like a creature possessed, sobbing. He grabbed up handfuls of ash, and smeared it on his face and body, into his hair - mourning deeply, as if someone had died. Two people.
At last, he wound to a stop, bleeding, bruised, filthy, sobbing and curled into a corner, dashing his fists against the wall and the floor, on himself, trying in vain to exorcise the spirit of grief and overwhelming agony, insane with the pain and loneliness - seeing no way, no reason, to live any longer, but too crazed to act on anything but the vengeful ache fisting in his heart and chest.
On the ship, in the quiet and the peace of the sea and churning on engines, the translator silently moves up alongside Cid. "Congratulations to you again, Captain Highwind, on your rescue. We were never introduced. I'm Arakawa," he says quietly, respectful of Cid's pain.
The man's accent is painfully familiar, and at a glance, despite the clothes, his appearance is too. It makes the hurt in Cid all the more tangible, this man next to him who reminded him of Vincent, and yet so painfully wasn't. But whereas Cid might have turned away or ignored the words of one of his crewmembers, he allows Arakawa to speak and stand there, and even gives him the benefit of an answer.
"I've fallen from Eden inte Hell. There is no congratulations this day."
Arakawa drops his head, and turns to face the sea, and in the distance, the island. "It takes a strong man to walk away from Eden, to condemn himself to Hell. It is commendable - and terrible to behold."
Cid makes a soft scoffing sound.
"It must happen often, with your people's strange customs. Fancy encouragin' people te sleep tegether, share their lives, and not expect 'em te grow close, te expect they can just.... separate, without any goddamn hard feelin's. Aint nothin' I've seen I'd called savage... barbaric, 'til teday."
Arakawa frowns vaguely. "My people, and Vincent's, are far removed. We are linked only by common language. But I am certain that that is not their way."
Cid's expression becomes bitter. His hands on the boat railing tighten, knuckles turning white.
"Yer speakin' te the man who just realised he's been livin' a fantasy fer a year. Perhaps ye should consider a different career; translate fer a people whose customs ye actually know."
Arakawa looks at him, long and intense, and then lets his gaze sweep out to the sea. "What I said, about the strength of a man who walks away from Eden, condemns himself to Hell... I was talking about more than one man." He pauses and turns back to Cid. "I may not know his people, but I do know the ways of men."
"Vincent?" Cid asks, incredulous. "He were only too happy te send me off so he could return to his people! People who shunned him and beat him and burnt down 'is own goddamn home because he was honorin' one o' their traditions....."
Cid frowns suddenly, as if he realises the logic of his own statement doesn't make sense. He casts Arakawa a wary sidelong look.
Arakawa doesn't return the look. "He can't return to his people. He can't ever return to his people, not having defied their gods." He pauses, as if uncertain of whether to continue. "But while he can't, you can."
Cid scowls harder and stands up straight, turning to face Arakawa full on, looking the most alive and focused since Vincent rejected him.
"I don't understand. What do ye mean?"
Arakawa returns the look, his eyes meeting Cid's with burning intensity. "I'm saying he loves you, more than anything. And if he thought that he could make you happy, if he thought he could save you, he would do anything in his power to make sure it happened."
Cid stands there, trying to process the confession, and match it up with everything else that's been seen, everything that he's seen.
"But...."
He whips his head about and looks at the island, small enough now that he can see it girt by ocean. Then Cid snaps forward, fisting a hand in Arakawa's shirt, desperate, frantic.
"Say it again! Are you sure, are you sure?!"
Arakawa accepts the rough treatment, his gaze losing intensity, becoming warm. "He doesn't know if he can live his life without you."
Cid drops Arakawa as if he's been burnt, starring at the man in horror.
"Oh my god. Oh my fucking god!!"
He fists his hands into his hair, thinking hard, thinking fast, frantic.
"Fuck. FUCK!"
Then he's running, running hard up to the wheel where Byron is, steering them away out to deeper waters to pick up the current and sail on.
"BYRON, BYRON!!"
Byron hastily hands off command to one of his standby crew, and dashes out to meet Cid halfway. He grips Cid's arms, his face reflecting only concern - and something like fear, or panic.
"Cid, what's going on?"
Cid ignores Byron's concern and grip, and throws his arms about the man, hugging Byron in a vicious bear-hug.
"Ye know I've always loved ye like my own brother, my own goddamn twin. Always will. If ye can ever forgive me, visit every so many months, alright? Please?"
Byron's eyes go wide, and his big hands fist, terrified, in Cid's jacket.
"What?" He breathes.
Cid presses a gentle hand to the back of Byron's head.
"I love ye. But I'm killin' him an' me both doin' this. I'm sorry. Visit, please."
He starts to pull away.
"No," Byron pleads, voice broken and strangled, clinging to Cid like a child, desperately. "Don't leave me, Cid. Don't go."
Cid stops moving away and hugs Byron back to him, like he has all the time in the world, even while he feels an invisible hour glass trickly away, running out, stealing Vincent from his more and more with each second...
"Ye know I gotta. 'M sorry Byron. But it's time ye started livin' fer yerself, an' not fer me. Ye have te let go, Bryon."
Byron half sobs, clutching Cid tighter, before abruptly stepping back and letting him go. "Fine," he grates out, voice thick and coarse with emotion. "Swim, take a goddamn boat, I don't fucking care. We'll pull about and moar there, and dump our cargo there. Tea, the drink, that sort of thing. Just... just get the fuck out," he finishes bitterly, turning on his heel and sweeping back to his post.
For a moment, Cid wonders if what Byron had said yesterday was true, about him choosing. Was he condemning one man to save another? Then he shakes his head and starts running off the other way, heading for the row boats. Byron had always been melodramatic, and always struggled to find his own two feet. With the crew to keep him in line, the promise to visit, and the slap of reality, Cid was sure Byron would be okay. Perhaps more than okay, as he could, indeed, start living for himself now.
Cid jumps into the nearest boat and kicks the lever, releasing the hold so that the boat goes hurtling down the side of the ship and smacks into the water, not wanting to waste another second. He picks up the oars and starts furiously rowing back towards the island.
"Ye'all better visit, or I'll row back in a year's time an' smack ye'all upside the goddamn head!" He shouts as he starts to pull away.
The crew all cluster about to wave goodbye, and scream and yell at him, some joyous, some crying, some fiercely angry - but all of them loving their Captain, and hating to see him go. Arakawa's pale face was among them, smiling softly, and then dispersing into the crowd.
Left alone now in the wheelhouse, Byron slumps over the wheel, grimacing with tears. He slams a fist on the dash beside him, and then abruptly straightened, blinking back tears and clearing his throat; he faced forward sternly, and began to draw them about, back towards the island.
Cid pumps the oars like a well oiled machine, putting everything he had into it. He couldn't waste a second, the invisible hour clock running out, running out, running out....
By the time the giant ship has almost turned around, Cid's half way back to the jungle island, catching smaller waves and working towards the current to help bring him to the shore faster. His arms burn, bulge, sweat running thick down his face and dripping down his neck and back, his face pulled into a tight grimace as rows, rows, rows, rows. Every time he thinks he starts to flag, he torturously picks up the pace. Each second he lags could cost him Vincent's life.
When the ship sets anchor, as close to the shallows as it can get, Cid's pulling up to sand. He doesn't bother to secure the boat, jumping out as soon as he can and half swims, half runs through the water and up onto the beach. Then he's sprinting for all he's worth, crashing through the jungle, branches and vines tearing at him. He pushes on, feeling a panic rise inside him, and goes faster, risking a branch to the face or a rock to the ankle, and starts crying out.
"VINCENT!!!!! VIINCCEEEENNT!!!"
Vincent doesn't hear him, locked tight in the whirlwind of his agony, consumed by it. To him, a world without Cid didn't exist. He wanted no part of it. What he wanted was Cid back - and he'd made damned sure that that wasn't going to happen.
He had nothing left. He'd crushed it all under heel, love, his home, even his damned name, he'd torn it all away like burnt flesh; it had hurt so very damned much, the wounds still raw and inflamed, bleeding and sick. And he'd done it to himself. Damn him. Damn him.
His body continued to howl and wail brokenly, sobbing so hard he gasped, hot tears never slowing, etching trails in the ash; he threw himself at the wall, pounding his fists against it when he wasn't scrabbling and striking at himself, tearing hair and skin - it never occurred to him that the knife at his back was an easier way out, that just throwing himself off the mountain was an option too. He just couldn't think, couldn't hear, couldn't see - his world was empty, and painful.
Cid keeps calling Vincent's name, hoping the words would reach the native if his body couldn't get there fast enough, and calling out in case Vincent was somewhere in the jungle. God, Cid thought, Please let Vincent be in the cave, safe. Please....
Finally, his vision going spotty from over exhaustion and panic, his clothes dirty and torn in a few places, Cid stumbles upon the cave, running over the debris of their home with barely a look, and comes inside to see the distraught, blackened, bleeding, wailing form of his lover. Alive, but tearing himself up as much as Cid had felt torn on the inside.
Sobbing in relief, Cid staggers inside and wrestles Vincent's arms down, hugging the body to him, both for Vincent's own protection, and for his own need to hold the hunter in his arms, gasping and sobbing and shaking, rocking them both.
Senselessly, Vincent clings to Cid, not even really understanding what had happened, what was going, just glad of something to cling to and cry on.
When Cid finally regains enough of his breath to talk, and the threat of fainting starts to diminish, he pats a hand over Vincent's hair, brushing it from his face, and presses a kiss to the dirty, wet face.
Shhhhhh, shhhhh, I've got you, I've got you, I'll never leave again. Never.
Vincent looks up, gulping back his cries, and finally, finally comes back to himself. "Cid?" He croaks hoarsely, afraid to believe, unable to understand.
Cid pulls back enough to look at Vincent's face, taking it in his hands and trying to wipe away the worst of the ash and tear.
"Ye stupid, stupid little bastard. Ye almost destroyed us both! From now on, I'm makin' all the goddamn decisions, ye get me?"
Vincent nods, eyes welling up all over again, breath hitching, and shifts about until he's sitting in Cid's lap, clinging to him tightly. "Sorry... sorry Cid... Cid home, friends, family... sorry..."
Cid shakes his head, cradling Vincent to him, wiping away the fresh tears from Vincent's cheeks with his thumbs.
"No, no. My home is here, my family is here. My friends will visit, but you are all I fuckin' need, all I goddamn want. Don't deny me that Vincent, please, jesus christ, I can't live without you. Please, Angel, please." Say you love me, say you want me.
Please don't leave, please don't ever go, he gasps. I wanted to say that so much, so many times, but I couldn't let myself... I just wanted you to be happy, to have what you wanted... Oh God, please, call me Vincent forever, please, please, I love you so much it hurts without you here, I can't live my life without you, oh God... Cid... Cid... you feel so good, I missed you so terribly, oh God... love you, love you, love you... He rambles, half sobbing. He turns to kissing Cid obsessively, all over his face.
Something shatters inside Cid - fear, relief, gratitude. He guides Vincent's face until their mouths meet, and kisses Vincent back, wet and hard and open mouthed, clinging to the hunter like nothing could steal him away. He wants to berate Vincent more, tell him he loved him more, but this was 100 times better, holding Vincent, kissing him, feeling him, knowing they wouldn't have to be parted again.
Vincent delves into the kiss just as eagerly, his mouth working hungrily against Cid's, clutching Cid to him desperately, pouring out all his gratitude and want and love and overwhelming relief...
And so the couple were reunited. They remained on the island, living happy, simple lives, sometimes going out to sea for a few months when Byron and the crew came to visit, but the lure of civilisation was never as strong as life in their cave.
And so they lived, happily ever after. And neither of them had anal babies.
The end <3 :P
Summary: We'll keep you safe, In the jungle forevermore, That's what friends are for... Vincent's a Jungle Native, and Cid's experiencing a bad case of CASTAWAY. What more do you need to know? >:D
Warnings: SO TOTALLY NOT PROOF READ. IN RAW FORMAT. DON'T BLAME US IF IT'S ILLEGIBLE. Also, this is an AU RP (duh!), and here be loincloths, sex between men, dirty talking, white western supremacy, swearing, angst, lazy endings, and yes, fictional animals were hurt in the production of this story. But were very, very tasty, so it's ok.
Disclaimer: Square Enix owns Cid and Vincent, the rest is sadly our own mad-cap invention. XD
Previous Chapters: Part One (illustrated), Part Two, Part Three
Part Four
Cid spends a long time in their little swimming alcove, their piece of Eden. He sits under one of the waterfalls, letting the water pummel the back of his neck and shoulders, and thinks gloomily.
He finally makes up his mind. He'll ask Vincent to come with him. But if Vincent didn't want to leave, he'd stay, and ask that Byron continue as Captain, and visit every 4 months or so as they made their journey across the waters. Perhaps if things went well enough, he and Vincent could take off and travel with them for a few months, before returning again. Perhaps make half-years of it. There could be no better solution, surely.
But either way, he was staying with Vincent. He loved Byron and his crew more than he could express, but the same went for Vincent. His crew were his family, but Vincent was his lover, his other half. There could be no life without Vincent.
Fingertips pruning, Cid makes his way back to their cave, feeling lighter that he's worked out a reasonable solution, one that should make everyone happy - perhaps not overjoyed, but hopefully workable. Byron will still be hurt, but he'll come to understand.
Vincent's in front of the cave, tying up a series of packages, seemingly excited and light-hearted.
Cid smiles as he sees Vincent.
Can't sleep? He asks, approaching the man.
No, he answers, smiling widely, beaming at Cid. He comes up to the blond, and pulls him over to the pile he'd made. I've been packing!
Cid looks at the bundles curiously.
"Packing for wh......." Cid's sentence dies out with realisation, and he can't help but feel the flutter of hope, a smile tugging his mouth. "To go? You want us to go with my friends?"
"Us....? No, no!" Vincent denies happily. "Cid, Cid's things!" He says, going to crouch by the bundles, looking up proudly, as if expecting praise.
Looking confused again, and feeling an entirely differently, less pleasant flutter in his stomach, Cid comes to crouch down by Vincent's side.
Why are you packing my things?
So you can be ready to go by morning, Vincent says, his smile wilting under confusion. You don't have much, but I packed it all up for you!
I didn't want you to do that, Cid says, dragging a bag to him and starting to unpack it obstinately.
"We aint even discussed this yet. I don't want to go without you."
Vincent looks between Cid and the bag, confusion mounting. Why?
Why?! Cid repeats incredulously. "Because I love you! Because yer my other half. Yer my angel. We can go tegether, or we can stay here, I don't care, but I wanna be with you, goddamnit!" He says, half-angry, half earnestly desperate, ripping things from his bag and dumping them on the ground with sharp, powerful actions of his arm.
I love you too, Vincent says awkwardly. Like a child loves their father. You don't... I mean, you don't think that we're... like that, do you? It's common among my people for men of higher station to take men as lovers. Isn't that what you wanted...? A companion...? Do you not do that with your people...?
Cid's face goes ashen, his body still, limp.
"...........what?"
Vincent smiles uncertainly. "I love you." I love you. There's no reason to be sad. I love you. And you can always visit! He says, trying to catch Cid's eye, trying to reassure him.
Visit? Cid repeats, like he can't quite get his mouth around the atrocity of the word.
"I don't... I don't want te visit. I want te be with you. Don't.... Ye must feel the same. Ye must!" He argues, distraught. It didn't make sense; it couldn't make sense. This whole time, it couldn't have just been, what, hero worship? Pity? A fling? No, that didn't make sense. Cid refused to believe it.
I love you, Vincent says again, confusion etched on his features. His hands go to Cid's face cherishingly. I do. Why are you so sad?
Cid pulls Vincent's hands from his face and holds them in his own. He looks into Vincent's eyes desperately.
"If ye love me, why do ye want me to go? Don't ye want me te live here with you? Don't ye want te come with me?"
Because I don't belong there. I belong here. With my people. You belong with yours. With you gone, I can return to my village and my ways. With me gone, you can go home too, return to the things that make you Cid. You can marry, have children, make friends. We don't need each other anymore. Vincent's hands curl over Cid's, very much the understanding, patient friend.
Cid can't - refuses - to believe what he's hearing, his face creasing in pain as Vincent talks down to him, and tears burn treacherously in his blue eyes, but he doesn't let them fall.
"But I need you," he says, his voice breaking on the words, his hands tightening on Vincent's, clinging.
"No," he says softly, drawing one hand away to cup Cid's face. You don't need me. Not anymore. What you need, is to go home. To go home, Cid. You don't have a place here.
Cid's head drops, and his hands do too, falling limply in his lap. He scrunches his eyes closed, and tries to soak up the last warmth Vincent gives him by the gentle hand on his face. This was worse than Byron asking him to leave, worse than any kind of pain he'd felt before.
Cid suddenly, painfully, becomes aware that he's overstaying his welcome. Vincent had packed his things. The hunter clearly had been too happy to see Cid gone from his home. To return to his people. So Vincent -had- been ostracized because of him? Just another knife to twist in his heart.
Cid tears his face from Vincent's hand and gets up, not looking at the man, staggering to the cave exit, taking nothing with him but the shorts and amulet he wore.
"I don't want any of it," he says hoarsely, before Vincent can protest and drag this out any longer. "The only thing I want I can't take, and it doesn't want me anyway. I hope.... I hope you have a happy life, V- Buinsen."
Vincent rises with him, looking after him mournfully. I do... care for you. But I don't love you. As a man, I respect you. But I don't need you, and you don't need me - don't love me. You're confused, starved of love - you don't love me, you just rely on me. And... I don't rely on you Cid. Please, don't make it any harder for yourself. Don't leave this way. Just accept that I don't love you; it's the only way to move past this. Don't hurt yourself over nothing.
Cid stands there, his back to Vincent, for a long moment. Then he grabs up his spear and, in one fluid, dramatic action, snaps it in half over his knee, tossing the parts aside. He turns around and storms up to the hunter, grabbing Vincent by the throat and backing the man up until Vincent hits the cave wall. Then Cid descends on him, kissing Vincent hard, almost savagely.
Cid stops when the salt of his tears run into the kiss.
Then just as abruptly, Cid turns away and moves off into the night, walking away from their cave, home, life - forever.
Vincent watches him go, panting still, and absently wipes the back of his hand over his mouth. His legs, weak with fear and unassailable pain, give beneath him and he slides down the using first one hand, and then both, to cover his mouth, to muffle his sobs. All he could think was, This isn't over. This isn't over yet. Oh gods.
Cid stumbles through the jungle in no particular direction. His eyes burn, are blurry and wet, and his legs feel weak, his knees half-giving out on him now and then so he has to grab onto a tree to right himself, to keep going, to get as far away from his heartache as he possibly can.
His hands suddenly go to his stomach, as if he's been shot, and he doubles over, dry heaving, collapsing to his knees and choking and sobbing over the damp soil, out of his mind with grief.
There's a rustle in the trees ahead of him, growing closer, louder. It stops, suddenly.
"Cid? Oh my God... Cid, Cid are you all right?"
Big, warm hands are on him then, and the smells of civilisation - soap, gin, cologne - assail him.
Cid lurches a few more times, trying to throw up something that wasn't there, and then collapses into the support of the hands, crying frustratedly, ashamedly, broken.
The hands clutch him close, then stroke down his back, soothing him. The great form - which could only be Byron - began to rock him.
"It's okay, it's going to be okay, just hold onto me, hold on tight-"
Cid presses into Byron's strong body, his warmth, leaning on him, relying on him.
"....God pl...eaes.... Take me a-way from 'ere..."
"Of course, Cid, hold on, I'm gonna take you to my tent, get you some clothes - something to drink to help you sleep. Okay?" He softly encourages, hauling Cid up against him, and helping him to walk. "You're going to be okay, it's all over, it's all over now...." Under the cover of the dark night, the beach thankfully empty of anything but the fire, Byron sneaks Cid into his own massive tent - the Captain's tent. He eases Cid to a seat on the bedroll, and goes about getting Cid settled in. Beneath his concern for Cid, his sense of triumph, was the very sincere worry that he'd made a very grave mistake.
Cid sits listlessly on the bedroll, staring off into space, the walk having sobered him up a little. He looks awful, pale, haunted, like he's seen the ghost of his dead mother walking. It's hard to tell if he's even really aware of where he is, or what Byron's been saying to him.
Byron returns to Cid's side with a basin of warm soapy water, and a thick cloth, and begins to wash Cid's face, down to his neck and shoulders. "What happened?" He asks softly, as if he hadn't the slightest inkling.
The corners of Cid's eyes crinkle into pained lines, but otherwise his face remains blank, lifeless.
"'E said..." Cid starts hoarsely, and has to clear his throat to get rid of the scratch. "..Said......" He drifts off. He can't bring himself to say it, can't bring himself to think on it.
Byron's hand slows. "... I see," is all he says, gentle, warm. He finishes cleaning Cid in the silence, shaving him, and finally dressing him.
"Sleep," he urges. "We'll be free of this damnable island by morning. Better memories are waiting for you. Sleep. I'll be here. I'll never leave your side." He presses the blond to lie back, and sweeps back the golden hair, tenderly, lovingly.
Cid's face creases in pain at Byron's gentle touch, and he slowly turns away, curling on his side, back to the rest of the room, and to Byron.
The sun draws up over the horizon, a hot orange sphere straining to wilt and stain all in its path. The heat wasn't as bad the humidity, drawing sweat out of even the driest bodies, and the smell of salt and balmy vegetation wafted on the cool breezes that frequented the shore. The tents were folded up, their contents all stowed and being brought aboard the massive cruiser-class ship anchored in the ocean in slow, small waves of rowboats. Most of the crew was already aboard, but Cid and Byron remained on the beach, dressed identically in thin white linen suits, supervising the loading process.
From out of the treeline, Vincent's pale, slender form slinks, spear in hand.
Cid watches the boats, although the glassy look in his eyes indicates he's perhaps seeing through the vista, still trapped in his thoughts. Despite the shave and wash and clean clothes, he still looks like Death warmed up, clearly not having slept much in the night. His eyes are lined and red, his mouth down-turned, his posture sagging. A strong breeze could blow him over, and he probably would go down and stay down without a fight.
He blinks slowly, seeing the pale and dark-haired figure emerge out of the corner of his eye as if in a dream. He turns and looks at Vincent, and his heart seizes up, part of him wanting to take Vincent in his arms, another part wanting to walk away.
His hands curl, his throat closes up. He doesn't say anything, just looks at Vincent with what he tries to make a neutral expression, but only looks like a kicked puppy, half hopeful for affection, half fearful for more hurt, and mostly betrayed.
"What are you doing here?" Byron hisses.
Vincent says nothing, looking mutely at Cid, expression unreadable. He moves no closer.
".... come on, Cid," Byron says finally. "There's nothing keeping us here." He starts to steer Cid away, towards a waiting boat.
He drags his feet, but Cid still moves with Byron, his gaze locked on Vincent.
"Wait," he says hoarsely, grabbing at Byron's arm.
Byron slows to a stop, and turns Cid to face him, earnestly trying to catch his eyes. "Cid... don't do this to yourself. He's hurt you enough, just let him go."
Cid looks like he's about to protest, but in the end doesn't bother, scrunching his face up in frustration, anger, and pushes Byron away, running a few steps back towards Vincent. He slows to a stop when they're still a few meters apart. He looks at Vincent, waiting, wanting to know why the native was here.
"Say goodbye," Vincent says softly. He raises a hand, and waves goodbye to Cid.
Cid stands there, too shocked, pained, incredulous to react. Then, woodenly, he turns around and starts walking back to Byron and their row boat.
Byron guides him to the rowboat, handling him preciously and sending venomous glares over his shoulder at Vincent. They kicked off from the shore, and out to the ship, the last of anything worth taking from the island. Byron allowed Cid to climb up first, and followed after. They hauled up the boat and fastened it, and Byron left Cid's side to see to their leaving.
"You know where to find me, if you need me," the big man assured, gripping Cid's arms and pressing a kiss to Cid's forehead. He gives him a small smile, and then leaves Cid to himself.
After a few minutes, the ship begins to move away from the island. All that's left to be seen is the shrinking island, and Vincent waving his melancholy goodbye.
Cid stands at the stern of the ship, watching his home for the past year, and what he thought had been his lover, slowly growing smaller and smaller. He refrains himself from waving. It would feel too much like forgiveness; too much like an acknowledgement that it was over.
He prays for another storm, and hopes that this one actually finishes him off.
Vincent waits until he can no longer see Cid on the ship, until the boat became that wall that had haunted Cid for so long, and slowed his waving. His chest hitched, his throat tight; his spear hit the sand at his feet, and he began to inch back into the forest, sobs steadily growing, building in his mouth, stopping up his breath, his eyes swelling with tears. As soon as he cleared the tree line, he turned about, and ran.
He stumbled, fell, sobbing, crying, scratching himself, twisting his limbs painfully, desperate to get away, to run away from the ache, but it clung to him hard, tenacious. He clawed his way up every time, and just ran and ran and ran...
As he came up on the cave, gasping, crying breathlessly, he abruptly sucked in a hard breath and screamed for all he was worth, over and over again, descending into banshee wails of terror and pain. Below the mountain, villagers froze, wide-eyed and frightened at the inhuman sound, even as hunters returned with tales of a white spirit wreaking havoc in the jungle, weeping and wailing openly.
The native stumbled into the cave, and with animalistic roars and broken cries, began to tear apart their home, breaking and smashing and clawing anything he could get his hands on, writhing in his mess like a creature possessed, sobbing. He grabbed up handfuls of ash, and smeared it on his face and body, into his hair - mourning deeply, as if someone had died. Two people.
At last, he wound to a stop, bleeding, bruised, filthy, sobbing and curled into a corner, dashing his fists against the wall and the floor, on himself, trying in vain to exorcise the spirit of grief and overwhelming agony, insane with the pain and loneliness - seeing no way, no reason, to live any longer, but too crazed to act on anything but the vengeful ache fisting in his heart and chest.
On the ship, in the quiet and the peace of the sea and churning on engines, the translator silently moves up alongside Cid. "Congratulations to you again, Captain Highwind, on your rescue. We were never introduced. I'm Arakawa," he says quietly, respectful of Cid's pain.
The man's accent is painfully familiar, and at a glance, despite the clothes, his appearance is too. It makes the hurt in Cid all the more tangible, this man next to him who reminded him of Vincent, and yet so painfully wasn't. But whereas Cid might have turned away or ignored the words of one of his crewmembers, he allows Arakawa to speak and stand there, and even gives him the benefit of an answer.
"I've fallen from Eden inte Hell. There is no congratulations this day."
Arakawa drops his head, and turns to face the sea, and in the distance, the island. "It takes a strong man to walk away from Eden, to condemn himself to Hell. It is commendable - and terrible to behold."
Cid makes a soft scoffing sound.
"It must happen often, with your people's strange customs. Fancy encouragin' people te sleep tegether, share their lives, and not expect 'em te grow close, te expect they can just.... separate, without any goddamn hard feelin's. Aint nothin' I've seen I'd called savage... barbaric, 'til teday."
Arakawa frowns vaguely. "My people, and Vincent's, are far removed. We are linked only by common language. But I am certain that that is not their way."
Cid's expression becomes bitter. His hands on the boat railing tighten, knuckles turning white.
"Yer speakin' te the man who just realised he's been livin' a fantasy fer a year. Perhaps ye should consider a different career; translate fer a people whose customs ye actually know."
Arakawa looks at him, long and intense, and then lets his gaze sweep out to the sea. "What I said, about the strength of a man who walks away from Eden, condemns himself to Hell... I was talking about more than one man." He pauses and turns back to Cid. "I may not know his people, but I do know the ways of men."
"Vincent?" Cid asks, incredulous. "He were only too happy te send me off so he could return to his people! People who shunned him and beat him and burnt down 'is own goddamn home because he was honorin' one o' their traditions....."
Cid frowns suddenly, as if he realises the logic of his own statement doesn't make sense. He casts Arakawa a wary sidelong look.
Arakawa doesn't return the look. "He can't return to his people. He can't ever return to his people, not having defied their gods." He pauses, as if uncertain of whether to continue. "But while he can't, you can."
Cid scowls harder and stands up straight, turning to face Arakawa full on, looking the most alive and focused since Vincent rejected him.
"I don't understand. What do ye mean?"
Arakawa returns the look, his eyes meeting Cid's with burning intensity. "I'm saying he loves you, more than anything. And if he thought that he could make you happy, if he thought he could save you, he would do anything in his power to make sure it happened."
Cid stands there, trying to process the confession, and match it up with everything else that's been seen, everything that he's seen.
"But...."
He whips his head about and looks at the island, small enough now that he can see it girt by ocean. Then Cid snaps forward, fisting a hand in Arakawa's shirt, desperate, frantic.
"Say it again! Are you sure, are you sure?!"
Arakawa accepts the rough treatment, his gaze losing intensity, becoming warm. "He doesn't know if he can live his life without you."
Cid drops Arakawa as if he's been burnt, starring at the man in horror.
"Oh my god. Oh my fucking god!!"
He fists his hands into his hair, thinking hard, thinking fast, frantic.
"Fuck. FUCK!"
Then he's running, running hard up to the wheel where Byron is, steering them away out to deeper waters to pick up the current and sail on.
"BYRON, BYRON!!"
Byron hastily hands off command to one of his standby crew, and dashes out to meet Cid halfway. He grips Cid's arms, his face reflecting only concern - and something like fear, or panic.
"Cid, what's going on?"
Cid ignores Byron's concern and grip, and throws his arms about the man, hugging Byron in a vicious bear-hug.
"Ye know I've always loved ye like my own brother, my own goddamn twin. Always will. If ye can ever forgive me, visit every so many months, alright? Please?"
Byron's eyes go wide, and his big hands fist, terrified, in Cid's jacket.
"What?" He breathes.
Cid presses a gentle hand to the back of Byron's head.
"I love ye. But I'm killin' him an' me both doin' this. I'm sorry. Visit, please."
He starts to pull away.
"No," Byron pleads, voice broken and strangled, clinging to Cid like a child, desperately. "Don't leave me, Cid. Don't go."
Cid stops moving away and hugs Byron back to him, like he has all the time in the world, even while he feels an invisible hour glass trickly away, running out, stealing Vincent from his more and more with each second...
"Ye know I gotta. 'M sorry Byron. But it's time ye started livin' fer yerself, an' not fer me. Ye have te let go, Bryon."
Byron half sobs, clutching Cid tighter, before abruptly stepping back and letting him go. "Fine," he grates out, voice thick and coarse with emotion. "Swim, take a goddamn boat, I don't fucking care. We'll pull about and moar there, and dump our cargo there. Tea, the drink, that sort of thing. Just... just get the fuck out," he finishes bitterly, turning on his heel and sweeping back to his post.
For a moment, Cid wonders if what Byron had said yesterday was true, about him choosing. Was he condemning one man to save another? Then he shakes his head and starts running off the other way, heading for the row boats. Byron had always been melodramatic, and always struggled to find his own two feet. With the crew to keep him in line, the promise to visit, and the slap of reality, Cid was sure Byron would be okay. Perhaps more than okay, as he could, indeed, start living for himself now.
Cid jumps into the nearest boat and kicks the lever, releasing the hold so that the boat goes hurtling down the side of the ship and smacks into the water, not wanting to waste another second. He picks up the oars and starts furiously rowing back towards the island.
"Ye'all better visit, or I'll row back in a year's time an' smack ye'all upside the goddamn head!" He shouts as he starts to pull away.
The crew all cluster about to wave goodbye, and scream and yell at him, some joyous, some crying, some fiercely angry - but all of them loving their Captain, and hating to see him go. Arakawa's pale face was among them, smiling softly, and then dispersing into the crowd.
Left alone now in the wheelhouse, Byron slumps over the wheel, grimacing with tears. He slams a fist on the dash beside him, and then abruptly straightened, blinking back tears and clearing his throat; he faced forward sternly, and began to draw them about, back towards the island.
Cid pumps the oars like a well oiled machine, putting everything he had into it. He couldn't waste a second, the invisible hour clock running out, running out, running out....
By the time the giant ship has almost turned around, Cid's half way back to the jungle island, catching smaller waves and working towards the current to help bring him to the shore faster. His arms burn, bulge, sweat running thick down his face and dripping down his neck and back, his face pulled into a tight grimace as rows, rows, rows, rows. Every time he thinks he starts to flag, he torturously picks up the pace. Each second he lags could cost him Vincent's life.
When the ship sets anchor, as close to the shallows as it can get, Cid's pulling up to sand. He doesn't bother to secure the boat, jumping out as soon as he can and half swims, half runs through the water and up onto the beach. Then he's sprinting for all he's worth, crashing through the jungle, branches and vines tearing at him. He pushes on, feeling a panic rise inside him, and goes faster, risking a branch to the face or a rock to the ankle, and starts crying out.
"VINCENT!!!!! VIINCCEEEENNT!!!"
Vincent doesn't hear him, locked tight in the whirlwind of his agony, consumed by it. To him, a world without Cid didn't exist. He wanted no part of it. What he wanted was Cid back - and he'd made damned sure that that wasn't going to happen.
He had nothing left. He'd crushed it all under heel, love, his home, even his damned name, he'd torn it all away like burnt flesh; it had hurt so very damned much, the wounds still raw and inflamed, bleeding and sick. And he'd done it to himself. Damn him. Damn him.
His body continued to howl and wail brokenly, sobbing so hard he gasped, hot tears never slowing, etching trails in the ash; he threw himself at the wall, pounding his fists against it when he wasn't scrabbling and striking at himself, tearing hair and skin - it never occurred to him that the knife at his back was an easier way out, that just throwing himself off the mountain was an option too. He just couldn't think, couldn't hear, couldn't see - his world was empty, and painful.
Cid keeps calling Vincent's name, hoping the words would reach the native if his body couldn't get there fast enough, and calling out in case Vincent was somewhere in the jungle. God, Cid thought, Please let Vincent be in the cave, safe. Please....
Finally, his vision going spotty from over exhaustion and panic, his clothes dirty and torn in a few places, Cid stumbles upon the cave, running over the debris of their home with barely a look, and comes inside to see the distraught, blackened, bleeding, wailing form of his lover. Alive, but tearing himself up as much as Cid had felt torn on the inside.
Sobbing in relief, Cid staggers inside and wrestles Vincent's arms down, hugging the body to him, both for Vincent's own protection, and for his own need to hold the hunter in his arms, gasping and sobbing and shaking, rocking them both.
Senselessly, Vincent clings to Cid, not even really understanding what had happened, what was going, just glad of something to cling to and cry on.
When Cid finally regains enough of his breath to talk, and the threat of fainting starts to diminish, he pats a hand over Vincent's hair, brushing it from his face, and presses a kiss to the dirty, wet face.
Shhhhhh, shhhhh, I've got you, I've got you, I'll never leave again. Never.
Vincent looks up, gulping back his cries, and finally, finally comes back to himself. "Cid?" He croaks hoarsely, afraid to believe, unable to understand.
Cid pulls back enough to look at Vincent's face, taking it in his hands and trying to wipe away the worst of the ash and tear.
"Ye stupid, stupid little bastard. Ye almost destroyed us both! From now on, I'm makin' all the goddamn decisions, ye get me?"
Vincent nods, eyes welling up all over again, breath hitching, and shifts about until he's sitting in Cid's lap, clinging to him tightly. "Sorry... sorry Cid... Cid home, friends, family... sorry..."
Cid shakes his head, cradling Vincent to him, wiping away the fresh tears from Vincent's cheeks with his thumbs.
"No, no. My home is here, my family is here. My friends will visit, but you are all I fuckin' need, all I goddamn want. Don't deny me that Vincent, please, jesus christ, I can't live without you. Please, Angel, please." Say you love me, say you want me.
Please don't leave, please don't ever go, he gasps. I wanted to say that so much, so many times, but I couldn't let myself... I just wanted you to be happy, to have what you wanted... Oh God, please, call me Vincent forever, please, please, I love you so much it hurts without you here, I can't live my life without you, oh God... Cid... Cid... you feel so good, I missed you so terribly, oh God... love you, love you, love you... He rambles, half sobbing. He turns to kissing Cid obsessively, all over his face.
Something shatters inside Cid - fear, relief, gratitude. He guides Vincent's face until their mouths meet, and kisses Vincent back, wet and hard and open mouthed, clinging to the hunter like nothing could steal him away. He wants to berate Vincent more, tell him he loved him more, but this was 100 times better, holding Vincent, kissing him, feeling him, knowing they wouldn't have to be parted again.
Vincent delves into the kiss just as eagerly, his mouth working hungrily against Cid's, clutching Cid to him desperately, pouring out all his gratitude and want and love and overwhelming relief...
And so the couple were reunited. They remained on the island, living happy, simple lives, sometimes going out to sea for a few months when Byron and the crew came to visit, but the lure of civilisation was never as strong as life in their cave.
And so they lived, happily ever after. And neither of them had anal babies.
The end <3 :P