Midgar Burning Chapter 46
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 .
Chapter 46
Medical miracles rarely ever happened, were more myth than reality, so when word had gotten out about the man who had gone from death, to coma, to conscious in less than twenty-four hours, the news had spread like wildfire until doctors had converged on Vincent’s room like ants to a picnic. It was all Dr. Bugenhagen and his two nurses could do to keep them out, but they couldn’t watch the room all the time, and no matter how much Dr. Bugenhagen had pleaded, cajoled and threatened hospital administration, they had not heard Mr. Highwind’s empassioned plea about life and had therefore remained cold towards his request to have security watch his patient’s room.
And so began the longest night of Vincent’s life in a little over ten years. In and out, doctors came and went, poking him, prodding him, asking him questions that he refused to answer and talking over and about him as though he was little more than a lab rat. He was violated in ways that took him back to a horrific time that he would sell his soul to forget, and as a result he did the only thing he could to get away from it all. He retreated back into the part of his mind that was still his, to the point where even the intruding doctors became concerned about his catatonic and unresponsive condition. Most of them withdrew then, and the remainder were escorted out by hospital security that administration had finally granted Dr. Bugenhagen when, in a last ditch effort, presented them with his hastily written letter of resignation if he wasn’t granted what he requested.
Beaten and exhausted, the poor doctor now looked down at his patient who lay unblinking and unresponsive, and wanted to weep. The man who could have made medical history was only just a shell now, and he had to find a way to bring him back. With a sigh, Dr. Bugenhagen called his two nurses and the security officer outside into the room as he gently closed Vincent’s eyes and taped gauze over them to keep the man’s eyeballs from drying out. “He’s stable enough to move, and we’re moving with him. I’ve temporarily arranged for my other patients to be seen by colleges and this man now has my full attention.” He met their eyes levelly. “We’re taking him to floor two in the secure wing. No one, and I repeat no one is to be allowed in to see him except for the man who was here yesterday, a Mr. Cid Highwind. This man, if it is his wish, is to be allowed to remain in the room with him as I think it’s the best thing for him now. Oh, what a mess,” Dr. Bugenhagen ended with a sigh, rubbing his face. “You two,” he addressed the nurses. “Set up a double on floor two, I don’t care who you have to move to do it, and see that no one else is placed in it. Have an orderly roll in a trundle bed for Mr. Highwind should he decide to stay.” The two women nodded and headed off to complete their task. He looked at the security officer, “I’ll still need you to watch the door.” The stern-faced man nodded soberly and resumed his position outside until it was time to move the patient. Dr. Bugenhagen took a seat in the chair next to Vincent and put his face in his hands. “What have I done?”
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Cid stared at the nurse. “Whaddaya mean he ain’t there?” He continued trying to peek around the rather well-built man blocking his way into Vincent’s room.
“I mean, sir, that Mr. Valentine is no longer here,” the nurse said patiently, blocking yet another of Cid’s attempts to break past him. “If you wish, I can take your name and have a message sent to him.”
“What th- no. Oh, hell no. You’re gonna tell me where he is, an’ you’re gonna tell me now, b’fore I do somethin’ stupid. He needs me with ‘im. I promised I’d be here again this mornin’ an’ now y’tell me I can’t be? No, no, no…” Cid groaned, shaking his head. This was not going to end well. “Where’s Bugenhagen?”
“I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t tell you that. Now if you’ll just tell me your name-”
“Mr. Highwind?” A smaller, female nurse called, and Cid saw the bulky male one jump in surprise.
“You’re Cid Highwind?” At Cid’s nod, the man clapped a hand to his forehead. “Well, why couldn’t you just say so? Yeesh, why they want an idiot like you to stay with him, I just don’t know…”
“Oh, shut up, Skotch, it’s just because you’re even stupider than he is. No offense, Mr. Highwind.”
Cid, stunned and still agonizing over not being there for Vincent, only blinked at her.
“Come on,” she said. “I’d just tell you where it is, but you look a little off this morning? Not much sleep last night? No, I guess not.”
He allowed the chatty girl to lead him up the elevator, through the glass tunnel above the highway, around a corner, up another elevator, and around yet another corner. She gestured at a door halfway down the hall that was being watched by a surly-looking man not unlike Rude. At Cid’s questioning look, she said simply, “You’ll see. I have to go; I shouldn’t have even left the building,” and pushed him gently toward the guard.
Cid approached him determinedly, but still carefully. “I need t’see Vincent.”
“Nobody’s allowed in.”
“I was told I would be. I was brought here t’see ‘im.”
The guard only raised an eyebrow and made no comment.
Cid shoved a hand into his pocket, pulled out his wallet, and began rifling through it for his photo identification. “That help?” he asked pleadingly.
The guard took the proffered ID and examined it, taking his time, then looked back up at Cid, then down, then back up, raised an eyebrow, then he frowned and grunted, "Go on in."
Cid heaved a sigh of relief and pushed open the door after the guard stepped aside. He walked in, expecting some sign of recognition from Vincent, and was unpleasantly startled when there was none. “Vincent?” he asked, sitting in the chair that was already conveniently placed beside the bed. “I’m so sorry m’late. Nobody told me they moved ya. …Vincent, are you all right?” he asked when he noticed that Vincent had still not really responded to his presence. He put a hand over one of Vincent’s, idly noting that even more color had returned and that Vincent’s hand felt warmer to the touch than it had the day before.
“Somethin’s wrong…” Cid muttered, looking at Vincent worriedly. He wanted to talk to Bugenhagen; he would know what had happened. An’ so help me if it’s his fault… Cid thought angrily. “Vincent, please. What happened? What’d they do?” He brought himself to Vincent’s eye level and stared into apparently unseeing eyes. Was he alive? Of course he was; that was a silly question. He was still warm and still breathing, albeit shallowly. “Where are ya, Vincent? …I won’t go t’night. They’ll let me stay t’night, an’ I won’t leave ya again, so please come back. I love you,” he pleaded, realizing he hadn’t said it enough yesterday. “I don’t wanna hafta call Tseng an’ tell ‘im even I can’t reach ya. He’ll never let me near ya again…”
Dr. Bugehagen was returning to check on his patient that morning and was about to just let himself in when he noticed Cid looking down at Vincent with what looked to be rising panic. He had taken off the gauze covering the man’s unique eyes after he had been moved as the blink reflex had come back. They were few and far between, but enough to keep the eyeballs lubricated. Clearing his throat softly, he knocked on the door. “Excuse me, Mr. Highwind?”
Confused, mournful blue eyes found Bugenhagen. “What th’hell happened?” Cid asked morosely, looking frantically back and forth between Vincent and the doctor.
Dr. Bugenhagen sighed as he entered the room to stand by Cid and look down at Vincent’s slack face. “Shock,” he said simply. “This kind of response is usually triggered in times of stress or trauma. It’s the brain’s attempt to protect itself. It’s seen a lot in kidnap and torture victims. It would seem that word of Mr. Valentine’s unique physiology spread rather quickly, not from myself I assure you, and as a result my colleagues…” he nearly spat the word. “…had to see him for themselves, and, well, doctors will be doctors,” he concluded softly. He reached forward and felt Vincent’s forehead, then looked into the red eyes, tapping at the corners and nodding when they blinked in response. He straightened back up. He sighed again. “It’s a form of catatonia, Mr. Highwind. He’s actually gotten a little better since we moved him, and I ran an EEG. He has brain activity, he just retreated inside his mind. I have no other explanation. I’m hoping you might be able to recall him.”
Cid looked at Vincent, eyes filled with hopelessness. “I don’t know how. I don’t- I don’t even really understand,” he admitted, too concerned to be embarrassed. “Why th’hell wasn’t I called right away?” he asked. “Y’know I woulda dropped everything an’ been here.” He was angry, but not at Vincent, and not at Bugenhagen. It was the world at large that had him frustrated, from the surprise visit he’d had last night, when he’d been equally as useless as he was today, to this, something else he couldn’t fix. “I shouldn’t’a left. Knew this'd happen.” Cid put his head in his hands and tried to keep himself from pulling at his hair. It was all he could do to appear calm and still keep breathing. “What about- th’rest?” he asked, trying to seem as if he would be able to comprehend it. “His lungs an’ th’cut an’ whatnot…is all o’ that doin’ better, or did it slow down when ‘e…went t’sleep? Oh, hell, I told ‘im to, I told ‘im t’go t’sleep, an’ I guess ‘e couldn’t so ‘e did this instead. I reckon you see what I mean now,” Cid snapped suddenly, “when I said I needed t’stay, an’ y’won’t be tryin’a kick me out anymore. Y’said on any other floor I c’d stay.”
Dr. Bugenhagen took the brunt of Cid’s rage with stoic calm. This was not the first tirade he had ever witnessed, nor would it be the last. When the man appeared to be finished, he said softly, “No one is going to try to make you leave, Mr. Highwind. The guard out front will see to it that you are not disturbed. As for the ‘rest of it’, he’s healing well. The staples have been removed and we x-rayed his chest. There are a few bullet fragments left that may continue to cause him some discomfort until we can go in and remove them, one of which is rather close to his heart, but not any serious threat as long as he stays calm.” He crossed his arms over his chest and regarded Cid mildly. “I don’t know the extent of your relationship with Mr. Valentine, but it certainly appears to be one of intimacy. Mr. Highwind, his condition is not abnormal, unusual certainly given the circumstances of its onset, but not in and of itself life-threatening. The best treatment is to just be with him, have physical contact and let him hear your voice. We’ll do our part and keep other interruptions minimal.”
Cid nodded and looked at Vincent again. “I wish he could just…not hafta deal with all this anymore. Guess that’s what he wants, too, only he’s tired o’ waitin’.” As soon as Bugenhagen left, Cid finally broke down. With Vincent’s hand held against his cheek, he let the tears fall. No one could see them here, and it hurt so much to have Vincent so far away.
When he was finished, or nearly so, he slipped an arm under Vincent’s head and carefully perched himself on the edge of the bed alongside Vincent. He knew better than to give in to his desire to wrap his arms around the unresponsive man, and he didn’t want to jostle the fragile body more than was necessary, but he needed to be this close if he couldn’t get closer. “Y’know, if y’were outta here, I wouldn’t even see ya? Y’wouldn’t even come by until Friday an’ I wouldn’t’a known th’difference. Don’t you see somethin’ wrong with that? From now on, I expect t’hear from ya ever’day an’ see ya more’n just on weekends. ‘Specially since that ShinRa asshole’s gone. Y’got no excuses now, Valentine, y’hear?” he said hoarsely, tucking Vincent’s head under his chin. “An’ I’m like as not gonna fall offa here in a couple minutes, so you’d best be enjoyin’ th’hell out of it.” Now that the anger and sadness had mostly left him, Cid was left with an amused melancholy, something he was not at all used to feeling. “I miss you. I’ve missed ya every week when y’were gone, but I reckon I miss y’more right now when y’re right next to me than I ever did b’fore.”
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The cherry trees should be in blossom, Vincent thought fondly as he made his way through his childhood home, smiling softly at the pictures on the walls and bookshelves. He trailed fingers over one of his father and himself at five years of age; he was perched on his father’s broad, strong shoulders, his small hands fisted in Grimoire’s hair making two odd ‘pig-tails’ that stuck straight up, and they were both laughing. From the slightly blurry quality of the photo, he could tell that his mother had been laughing too, and hadn’t been able to hold the camera very steady. So many memories here, good memories, and his heart ached a little at that lost innocence. Finally, he came to the back door and he slid it open to step onto the back terrace, and froze before he could take a step out of the house.
Burned. It was all burned. His mother’s cherry trees were only charred hunks of wood, stretching skeletal arms toward an ashen sky, his father’s fish pond was dried up, the large koi he had kept were nothing but mummified remains. “What?” He breathed, taking a hesitant step onto the back walk. Suddenly he heard weeping. He looked over his shoulder concernedly. It wasn’t a child’s weeping, it sounded like a man’s. But whose? He turned around and began searching the house. “Father?” he called, opening his parents' bedroom door. Nothing. But the closer he got to the front door the louder the weeping got. Upon exiting the house he flinched as a bright flash of light seared his eyeballs, making them water. He heard talking, and he strained to hear what was said even as the familiar faint scent of cigarette smoke and aftershave enveloped him.
The more he understood of what was being said, the heavier his arms got, and the harder it got to breathe, but somehow it wasn’t quite as bad as it had been. He tried to reply but it took a moment before he could force enough air through his larynx to make the right noises, and by the time he did, he and Cid were alone in the room again. “Obsessed…” he croaked.
“Maybe,” Cid said, smiling a little once the brief moment of shock at hearing Vincent's voice passed. “You gonna stick around this time?” he asked as he continued running his fingers through Vincent’s hair.
Vincent only sighed softly and shut his gritty eyes. “What happened?” He was disoriented and there was a slight pounding behind his eyeballs.
Cid snorted. “Why don’t you tell me? I got here an’ they said y’d d’cided t’go off an’ hide in yer mind or some shit. Y’shouldn’t do that, y’know. Y’ll get lost in there one day an’ I ain’t about t’go in after yer ass.”
“I’m sorry,” Vincent murmured and tried to roll away, winced at the spike of pain that caused, and promptly gave up. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“No, I reckon I wouldn’t. An’ stop that. Y’know I ain’t mad at you. They just shouldn’t’a done nothin’ t’make ya that upset, s’all. Got me right pissed off an’ I can’t do a thing about it.” Cid was a bit suspicious of Vincent’s sudden recovery, though once he considered the previous days’ events, he realized that he should not be. He searched Vincent’s face, knowing he was horrible for snapping at the poor man immediately. “M’sorry, Vincent. I just- I w’s scared. I still am. Seems like every time I find ya, I turn around an’ I done lost ya again.”
“My life…is dangerous, Cid.” He said on a breath. “You know that. Small wonder…this hasn’t happed…before now.” He pushed at Cid’s chest feebly with an IV-laden arm. “I told you…they would not leave…me alone.”
“They should have,” Cid muttered, having nothing better to say. He eased his arm out from under Vincent and left the bed, plopping onto the chair and staring at the closed window as if he could see through its shades as well as the panes. What was out there? Rooftops, streets, cars, people…nothing new, nothing pleasant, and nothing he wanted to see. “An’ they shoulda let me stay, an’ they shoulda called me…but people don’t do what they should. They do what they want.” He sighed to himself, now drawing his feet onto the chair and resting his head on his knees. “I don’t like ‘em.”
“Don’t dwell…on it.” Vincent grunted, having shoved the previous day and night to the back of his brain where he promptly tried to forget about it. Planting his elbows in the mattress he attempted to push himself up onto them. He gritted his teeth against the pain, but when he literally felt something rip inside his chest, he cried out and fell back onto the mattress. He had bitten his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. But that wasn’t all, there was a tickeling in the back of his throat and a flare of coppery taste in the back of his mouth which couldn’t be good. He slammed his fist into the mattress, which sounded more like a pat. “Dammit! I’m sick of…being on my…back. I want…up.” *
“Well that ain’t the way t’go about it! You wanna be here longer?” Cid sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Are y’hurtin’ bad enough t’call th’doctor?” At the glare he received in answer, Cid backed down with his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “A’ right, a’ right. I can’t feel what y’re feelin’, so I hafta ask. Now if you want me t’sit ya up, y’gotta promise me y’re gonna stay calm.” Cid had promised that he wouldn’t do anything without permission, but that had been yesterday. And anyway, people did what they wanted. Much as he might hate to associate himself with certain others of the species, Cid was human, too.
“I’m fine.” Vincent muttered, taking a moment to collect himself for a second try. Taking a couple of deep breaths and counting to three he pushed himself up onto his elbows. The pain made him dizzy, but he held his position, unmindful of the blood that began to trickle from the corner of his mouth. He couldn’t be bothered with such trivial things. He needed to get up, to sit up.
At that moment, Dr. Bugenhagen poked his head into the room again. His eyes widened in shock when he saw Vincent propping himself up. “Whoa whoa whoa!” He said, hurrying into the room and pushing Vincent back down by his shoulders, cursing under his breath as he wiped the blood from the man’s face. “Don’t do that! Your lung tissue is still way too fragile! At this rate you’ll hemorrhage even more and drown in your own blood. What’s gotten into you?” He was slowly becoming used to his patient’s rapid and sudden reactions.
“I want…up.” Vincent growled, pushing at Dr. Bugenhagen’s arm. “I’m sick of…being treated like an…invalid.”
Dr. Bugenhagen snorted. “Well, in case you haven’t noticed, Mr. Valentine, you are an invalid. Now, you’re welcome to try and get up, but let me give you something for the pain and bleeding first, deal?”
“Fine.” Vincent mumbled sullenly.
Nodding, Dr. Bugenhagen left to prepare a shot of painkillers. He also took the liberty of spiking the drug with a heavy sedative. Returning, he held up the syringe and at Vincent’s nod he injected the cocktail into the man’s IV line. “Okay, have at it.” He said, stepping back and crossing his arms.
“Fine.” Vincent repeated and began struggling to sit up again. He was halfway up when his arms and legs turned to lead and he thumped back down onto the mattress with a breathless and wide-eyed, “Whoa.”
Shaking his head, Dr. Bugenhagen looked over at Cid. “That can’t happen again. He’s nowhere near strong enough to do that safely. What went on to make him think he could get up?”
Cid, glum, looked at Bugenhagen with a wry smile on his lips. “That’s easy enough. I told ‘im not to.” He didn’t know why he was here. The part of Vincent that had begged him not to leave appeared to have retreated, and in its place was a stronger, more stubborn part. And yes, that was what they wanted, because Vincent was inherently stubborn, but he was moving too quickly and everyone in the room knew it-- except for Vincent, of course. “He tried once ‘fore I knew what ‘e was doin’, an’ then I offered t’raise th’bed ‘cause he’d be better off with that, an’ then ‘e did it again. What, did y’think he’d listen t’me?”
Dr. Bugenhagen was at a loss. “Yes, as a matter of fact I did. I saw him last night, and he seemed quite dependent upon you.” He looked back down at Vincent and shook his head. “I simply don’t understand this man. Would you like me to see if I can get one of our counselors or staff psychologists up here to speak to him? It almost seems like he has a dual personality.”
Cid shook his head at Bugenhagen. “Last night he couldn’t do anything but what he was doin’. I was somethin’ t’hold onto that he knew wouldn’t hurt ‘im. T’day he’s stronger, an’ he’s gonna push ‘imself. An’ I’m gonna let ‘im so long as it ain’t hurtin’ ‘im worse. He’s his own man, doc, not mine.” With a grin, Cid looked over at Vincent, who was still on the mild high the painkiller provided. “D’you even know how bad I’d get my ass chewed out later if I played mommy right now? Nope, I’m gonna be here because he wants me here, call you if ‘e looks like e’s dyin’, an’ otherwise just stay outta th’whole mess.”
Dr. Bugenhagen shook his head, not fully understanding. “There’s a time for pushing yourself and a time for listening to others and trusting that they know what’s best for you. It just so happens that this is one of those latter. Now, either keep him still, or I’ll put the restraints back on. Even with his amazing regenerative abilities, his body is still not in a position for that kind of exertion, end of argument. Tilt the bed up if you must, but if I see that again, so help me, I will re-evaluate my vehement argument to allow you to stay with him. Am I understood?”
“Yes sir,” Cid said, and followed it with, “but tell him, not me. If he was like he was yesterday, he’d do what I said, but t’day…well, he knows I won’t deny ‘im much, so he’ll do ‘is best t’get over on me, y’see? An’ I can’t threaten ‘im with leavin’ ‘cause he knows I won’t go. An’…well, dammit, Vincent , you c’n hear all o’ this. You payin’attention? I hope so. Behave or I’m gonna get kicked out, that’s th’main point of it.” Cid turned back to Bugenhagen. “That’s about all I c’n do. But I’ll try.” He shrugged. “I’d hate t’see th’restraints come back out, but I’ll call ya t’do just that if he don’t chill out.”
Vincent, still loopy from the pain medication/sedative cocktail, snorted and grinned. Dr. Bugehagen leveled a last look at Cid before pulling out a small notebook and scribbling a quick number on it. Handing it to Cid, he said, “This is my pager number. When prompted just hit 217, which is his room number, and I’ll come straight away.”
“A’ right. So if he gets all angry again I c’n call ya back t’shoot ‘im up with some more o’ that?” Cid asked hopefully. Bugenhagen’s look said clearly that Cid should take this more seriously. He tried. “Right. Well, I’ll do m’best t’keep ‘im under control without it, how’s that?” Bugenhagen nodded and left the room hesitantly, and Cid took up the chair again. One look at Vincent, who was happily studying the ceiling, was enough to set him laughing. He had to stifle it with his hand, which made him snort, and that in turn made the whole affair worse.
“Wha’s’funny?” Vincent asked cocking an eyebrow.
“I dunno,” Cid gasped. “You, maybe. ‘r me. Or hell, maybe it’s th’goddam bandersnatch crackin’ jokes.” He hadn’t gotten enough sleep last night; that must be the problem. “Where th’hell is that thing, anyway?” he asked idly, looking around and finally spying it on the other bed…and noticing the other bed for the first time. “Well, look at that! Step up from th’chair, I guess,” he muttered, and left said chair to collect Domino. “Here. Look at ‘im a little while. Make you laugh too, I bet,” he said, completely serious before dissolving into quiet laughter once again.
He didn’t quite see the funny, but Vincent took the stuffed animal anyway, plopped it on his lap and stared at it. He looked up at Cid. “He’s kinda cute.” He looked back at the bandersnatch and patted it like one would a dog. Then his eyes brightened and he looked back up at Cid. “It’s a bandersnatch!” He said delightedly, for no reason at all.
Cid snickered again and then finally calmed down and watched Vincent be happy at the stuffed animal. “Yep. Just like me, right?” Vincent kept petting the bandersnatch, and Cid reached over and started combing through Vincent’s hair again. “M’glad y’re feelin’ better. An’ I like it better when y’re happy. C’n I scoot in there again?”
Vincent grinned at Cid. “’kay.” And when the man was squeezed in next to him again, he said, “But yer…nod a bandersnatch. Those’re…more hairy.” He brought the stuffed animal up to his nose, still smiling happily and sniffed. “Hey! He…smells like you!” And sniffed it again.
“Not sure that’s a good thing,” Cid said, eyebrow raised, “also not sure how safe it is fer you t’do that. Gonna get hairs up yer nose.” Still, he made no move to stop Vincent. “I smell like me too, y’know,” he said seriously, grinning as he watched Vincent process that bit of information.
“You do?” Vincent asked, grasping Cid’s wrist and bringing it too up to his nose and sniffing. “You do! I like that smell. It reminds me of pumpkins.”
Pumpkins…well, that was new, but Cid didn’t see anything wrong with it. Especially if Vincent liked it. “Well, I’m glad y’like it.” He grinned at Vincent. “Y’know, I think I’m gonna hafta keep some o’ this stuff on hand fer a while. I like ya like this. Happy an’ all.” He lay there for a very brief moment, wondering what happened next, and then decided that there was no sense in planning. “So, Vincent…what’s yer favorite thing in th’whole wide world, huh?”
“Hm,” Vincent thought a moment. “Bunnies,” he said happily, looking up at Cid with a grin.
“Yeah? We’ll hafta get some then,” Cid said, amused. Bunnies. He doubted that very much. “What color?”
“That is a…a good question," Vincent said seriously. “Purple. Hm, yeah, purple ones…with orange spots.” He frowned and looked back up at Cid. “Do they…make ‘em like that?”
“Fer you, they do,” Cid answered benevolently. “I’ll find ya one o’ those, an’ one that’s blue w’green spots, an’ they c’n have all th’babies they want. How’s ‘at sound?”
“Good.” Vincent replied. “I like bunnies. Say, Cid? …” He fell silent, thought a moment, opened his mouth again, then shut it with a shrug and went back to petting the bandersnatch.
Cid propped himself up on one arm and looked curiously at Vincent. “What was that?” he asked, trying to keep the smile off his face so Vincent wouldn’t feel like Cid was laughing at him.
“I fergot…” Vincent said with a sheepish grin. “I can’t remember…stuff, it just comes ‘n goes, comes ‘n goes. You know…like tonberries. I’m glad…you’re here.”
“I’m glad I’m here too.” He settled down again -his arm had started aching far too quickly for his liking- and carefully draped the other arm over Vincent’s waist, low enough that it wouldn’t bother anything. “But I can’t wait t’take you outta here.”
“Cid…?” Vincent whispered.
“What, sugar?” Cid whispered back, hoping this was not a prelude to Vincent kicking him out.
Vincent did his best to look at Cid, his eyes wide and uneasy. “They’re dead. My father’s fish…are dead. And mother’s trees…oh, Cid…someone burned them.”
Having no idea if this was a memory or a creation of the drugs, Cid thought it best to just go along with it. “Oh, Vincent, I’m so sorry…we’ll fix it up, if y’want. We c’n get new fish, an’ see if th’trees c’n be fixed-” what did Cid know about trees? He’d seen only a very small number of them in his life- “an’ if they can’t, we’ll get new trees, too, an’ make it beautiful again. Me an’ you. We’ll watch th’fish all day long, an’ we’ll keep th’bunnies real close to ‘em so we c’n see ever’thing at th’same time. But I don’t know who burned ‘em. I’ll find out, an’ then I’ll kick ‘is ass. Deal?”
“’kay,” Vincent murmured as he worried the fur on the back of the bandersnatch.
“Vincent?” Cid whispered, watching Vincent and again feeling a bit guilty in the back of his mind.
“Mm?”
“I love you. D’you know that? I love you more’n you like that bandersnatch, I reckon.”
This made Vincent happy. Love was a gift, his mother told him that, and his mother also told him to say ‘thank you’ after you received a gift, and that was just what he did. “Thank you,” he said solemnly, then grew puzzled. “How d’you know…how much I like…the bandersnatch?”
“Well, I guess I don’t. But no matter how much y’like it, I love you more. That’s all I meant.” He kissed Vincent’s cheek and was content with that and a brief attempt at nuzzling his ear. It would be too easy to make Vincent uncomfortable now, and just as easy to hurt him with nothing more than a kiss. “But we’ll save that fer later. An’ yer welcome, by th’way, fer lovin’ ya. Y’deserve it. An’ I’m damned lucky t’have you.”
“More lucky,” Vincent mumbled suddenly quite drowsy. “Cid…don’t cry…I’m here, don’t cry.” And with a sigh, he drifted off, clutching the poor, ragged bandersnatch to his bandaged chest.
“I ain’t cryin’. Not anymore.” He felt more than saw Vincent drift into his daze; the bed actually shifted with the release of tension in Vincent’s body. Even on the drugs, he’d been so wound up… “You rest. I know y’re here now.” With that, he eased himself out of the bed and into the chair, afraid to go to sleep lest Vincent attempt to sit up on his own again.
The day wore on; Vincent struggled and was still in infrequent, unpredictable bouts. Bugenhagen only had to be called twice, though, and only to do something about the pain. For the most part, Vincent behaved himself and listened when Cid said he would have to leave if he did not. Though the rest of the day was mostly uneventful, Cid didn’t think he’d ever forget the look on Bugenhagen’s face when he walked in later in the evening to find them both laughing, Cid almost hysterically, to announce that it was time for the lights to go out in the hall, and that he was administering another round of painkilling mako and something to help Vincent get to sleep.
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 .
Chapter 46
Medical miracles rarely ever happened, were more myth than reality, so when word had gotten out about the man who had gone from death, to coma, to conscious in less than twenty-four hours, the news had spread like wildfire until doctors had converged on Vincent’s room like ants to a picnic. It was all Dr. Bugenhagen and his two nurses could do to keep them out, but they couldn’t watch the room all the time, and no matter how much Dr. Bugenhagen had pleaded, cajoled and threatened hospital administration, they had not heard Mr. Highwind’s empassioned plea about life and had therefore remained cold towards his request to have security watch his patient’s room.
And so began the longest night of Vincent’s life in a little over ten years. In and out, doctors came and went, poking him, prodding him, asking him questions that he refused to answer and talking over and about him as though he was little more than a lab rat. He was violated in ways that took him back to a horrific time that he would sell his soul to forget, and as a result he did the only thing he could to get away from it all. He retreated back into the part of his mind that was still his, to the point where even the intruding doctors became concerned about his catatonic and unresponsive condition. Most of them withdrew then, and the remainder were escorted out by hospital security that administration had finally granted Dr. Bugenhagen when, in a last ditch effort, presented them with his hastily written letter of resignation if he wasn’t granted what he requested.
Beaten and exhausted, the poor doctor now looked down at his patient who lay unblinking and unresponsive, and wanted to weep. The man who could have made medical history was only just a shell now, and he had to find a way to bring him back. With a sigh, Dr. Bugenhagen called his two nurses and the security officer outside into the room as he gently closed Vincent’s eyes and taped gauze over them to keep the man’s eyeballs from drying out. “He’s stable enough to move, and we’re moving with him. I’ve temporarily arranged for my other patients to be seen by colleges and this man now has my full attention.” He met their eyes levelly. “We’re taking him to floor two in the secure wing. No one, and I repeat no one is to be allowed in to see him except for the man who was here yesterday, a Mr. Cid Highwind. This man, if it is his wish, is to be allowed to remain in the room with him as I think it’s the best thing for him now. Oh, what a mess,” Dr. Bugenhagen ended with a sigh, rubbing his face. “You two,” he addressed the nurses. “Set up a double on floor two, I don’t care who you have to move to do it, and see that no one else is placed in it. Have an orderly roll in a trundle bed for Mr. Highwind should he decide to stay.” The two women nodded and headed off to complete their task. He looked at the security officer, “I’ll still need you to watch the door.” The stern-faced man nodded soberly and resumed his position outside until it was time to move the patient. Dr. Bugenhagen took a seat in the chair next to Vincent and put his face in his hands. “What have I done?”
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Cid stared at the nurse. “Whaddaya mean he ain’t there?” He continued trying to peek around the rather well-built man blocking his way into Vincent’s room.
“I mean, sir, that Mr. Valentine is no longer here,” the nurse said patiently, blocking yet another of Cid’s attempts to break past him. “If you wish, I can take your name and have a message sent to him.”
“What th- no. Oh, hell no. You’re gonna tell me where he is, an’ you’re gonna tell me now, b’fore I do somethin’ stupid. He needs me with ‘im. I promised I’d be here again this mornin’ an’ now y’tell me I can’t be? No, no, no…” Cid groaned, shaking his head. This was not going to end well. “Where’s Bugenhagen?”
“I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t tell you that. Now if you’ll just tell me your name-”
“Mr. Highwind?” A smaller, female nurse called, and Cid saw the bulky male one jump in surprise.
“You’re Cid Highwind?” At Cid’s nod, the man clapped a hand to his forehead. “Well, why couldn’t you just say so? Yeesh, why they want an idiot like you to stay with him, I just don’t know…”
“Oh, shut up, Skotch, it’s just because you’re even stupider than he is. No offense, Mr. Highwind.”
Cid, stunned and still agonizing over not being there for Vincent, only blinked at her.
“Come on,” she said. “I’d just tell you where it is, but you look a little off this morning? Not much sleep last night? No, I guess not.”
He allowed the chatty girl to lead him up the elevator, through the glass tunnel above the highway, around a corner, up another elevator, and around yet another corner. She gestured at a door halfway down the hall that was being watched by a surly-looking man not unlike Rude. At Cid’s questioning look, she said simply, “You’ll see. I have to go; I shouldn’t have even left the building,” and pushed him gently toward the guard.
Cid approached him determinedly, but still carefully. “I need t’see Vincent.”
“Nobody’s allowed in.”
“I was told I would be. I was brought here t’see ‘im.”
The guard only raised an eyebrow and made no comment.
Cid shoved a hand into his pocket, pulled out his wallet, and began rifling through it for his photo identification. “That help?” he asked pleadingly.
The guard took the proffered ID and examined it, taking his time, then looked back up at Cid, then down, then back up, raised an eyebrow, then he frowned and grunted, "Go on in."
Cid heaved a sigh of relief and pushed open the door after the guard stepped aside. He walked in, expecting some sign of recognition from Vincent, and was unpleasantly startled when there was none. “Vincent?” he asked, sitting in the chair that was already conveniently placed beside the bed. “I’m so sorry m’late. Nobody told me they moved ya. …Vincent, are you all right?” he asked when he noticed that Vincent had still not really responded to his presence. He put a hand over one of Vincent’s, idly noting that even more color had returned and that Vincent’s hand felt warmer to the touch than it had the day before.
“Somethin’s wrong…” Cid muttered, looking at Vincent worriedly. He wanted to talk to Bugenhagen; he would know what had happened. An’ so help me if it’s his fault… Cid thought angrily. “Vincent, please. What happened? What’d they do?” He brought himself to Vincent’s eye level and stared into apparently unseeing eyes. Was he alive? Of course he was; that was a silly question. He was still warm and still breathing, albeit shallowly. “Where are ya, Vincent? …I won’t go t’night. They’ll let me stay t’night, an’ I won’t leave ya again, so please come back. I love you,” he pleaded, realizing he hadn’t said it enough yesterday. “I don’t wanna hafta call Tseng an’ tell ‘im even I can’t reach ya. He’ll never let me near ya again…”
Dr. Bugehagen was returning to check on his patient that morning and was about to just let himself in when he noticed Cid looking down at Vincent with what looked to be rising panic. He had taken off the gauze covering the man’s unique eyes after he had been moved as the blink reflex had come back. They were few and far between, but enough to keep the eyeballs lubricated. Clearing his throat softly, he knocked on the door. “Excuse me, Mr. Highwind?”
Confused, mournful blue eyes found Bugenhagen. “What th’hell happened?” Cid asked morosely, looking frantically back and forth between Vincent and the doctor.
Dr. Bugenhagen sighed as he entered the room to stand by Cid and look down at Vincent’s slack face. “Shock,” he said simply. “This kind of response is usually triggered in times of stress or trauma. It’s the brain’s attempt to protect itself. It’s seen a lot in kidnap and torture victims. It would seem that word of Mr. Valentine’s unique physiology spread rather quickly, not from myself I assure you, and as a result my colleagues…” he nearly spat the word. “…had to see him for themselves, and, well, doctors will be doctors,” he concluded softly. He reached forward and felt Vincent’s forehead, then looked into the red eyes, tapping at the corners and nodding when they blinked in response. He straightened back up. He sighed again. “It’s a form of catatonia, Mr. Highwind. He’s actually gotten a little better since we moved him, and I ran an EEG. He has brain activity, he just retreated inside his mind. I have no other explanation. I’m hoping you might be able to recall him.”
Cid looked at Vincent, eyes filled with hopelessness. “I don’t know how. I don’t- I don’t even really understand,” he admitted, too concerned to be embarrassed. “Why th’hell wasn’t I called right away?” he asked. “Y’know I woulda dropped everything an’ been here.” He was angry, but not at Vincent, and not at Bugenhagen. It was the world at large that had him frustrated, from the surprise visit he’d had last night, when he’d been equally as useless as he was today, to this, something else he couldn’t fix. “I shouldn’t’a left. Knew this'd happen.” Cid put his head in his hands and tried to keep himself from pulling at his hair. It was all he could do to appear calm and still keep breathing. “What about- th’rest?” he asked, trying to seem as if he would be able to comprehend it. “His lungs an’ th’cut an’ whatnot…is all o’ that doin’ better, or did it slow down when ‘e…went t’sleep? Oh, hell, I told ‘im to, I told ‘im t’go t’sleep, an’ I guess ‘e couldn’t so ‘e did this instead. I reckon you see what I mean now,” Cid snapped suddenly, “when I said I needed t’stay, an’ y’won’t be tryin’a kick me out anymore. Y’said on any other floor I c’d stay.”
Dr. Bugenhagen took the brunt of Cid’s rage with stoic calm. This was not the first tirade he had ever witnessed, nor would it be the last. When the man appeared to be finished, he said softly, “No one is going to try to make you leave, Mr. Highwind. The guard out front will see to it that you are not disturbed. As for the ‘rest of it’, he’s healing well. The staples have been removed and we x-rayed his chest. There are a few bullet fragments left that may continue to cause him some discomfort until we can go in and remove them, one of which is rather close to his heart, but not any serious threat as long as he stays calm.” He crossed his arms over his chest and regarded Cid mildly. “I don’t know the extent of your relationship with Mr. Valentine, but it certainly appears to be one of intimacy. Mr. Highwind, his condition is not abnormal, unusual certainly given the circumstances of its onset, but not in and of itself life-threatening. The best treatment is to just be with him, have physical contact and let him hear your voice. We’ll do our part and keep other interruptions minimal.”
Cid nodded and looked at Vincent again. “I wish he could just…not hafta deal with all this anymore. Guess that’s what he wants, too, only he’s tired o’ waitin’.” As soon as Bugenhagen left, Cid finally broke down. With Vincent’s hand held against his cheek, he let the tears fall. No one could see them here, and it hurt so much to have Vincent so far away.
When he was finished, or nearly so, he slipped an arm under Vincent’s head and carefully perched himself on the edge of the bed alongside Vincent. He knew better than to give in to his desire to wrap his arms around the unresponsive man, and he didn’t want to jostle the fragile body more than was necessary, but he needed to be this close if he couldn’t get closer. “Y’know, if y’were outta here, I wouldn’t even see ya? Y’wouldn’t even come by until Friday an’ I wouldn’t’a known th’difference. Don’t you see somethin’ wrong with that? From now on, I expect t’hear from ya ever’day an’ see ya more’n just on weekends. ‘Specially since that ShinRa asshole’s gone. Y’got no excuses now, Valentine, y’hear?” he said hoarsely, tucking Vincent’s head under his chin. “An’ I’m like as not gonna fall offa here in a couple minutes, so you’d best be enjoyin’ th’hell out of it.” Now that the anger and sadness had mostly left him, Cid was left with an amused melancholy, something he was not at all used to feeling. “I miss you. I’ve missed ya every week when y’were gone, but I reckon I miss y’more right now when y’re right next to me than I ever did b’fore.”
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The cherry trees should be in blossom, Vincent thought fondly as he made his way through his childhood home, smiling softly at the pictures on the walls and bookshelves. He trailed fingers over one of his father and himself at five years of age; he was perched on his father’s broad, strong shoulders, his small hands fisted in Grimoire’s hair making two odd ‘pig-tails’ that stuck straight up, and they were both laughing. From the slightly blurry quality of the photo, he could tell that his mother had been laughing too, and hadn’t been able to hold the camera very steady. So many memories here, good memories, and his heart ached a little at that lost innocence. Finally, he came to the back door and he slid it open to step onto the back terrace, and froze before he could take a step out of the house.
Burned. It was all burned. His mother’s cherry trees were only charred hunks of wood, stretching skeletal arms toward an ashen sky, his father’s fish pond was dried up, the large koi he had kept were nothing but mummified remains. “What?” He breathed, taking a hesitant step onto the back walk. Suddenly he heard weeping. He looked over his shoulder concernedly. It wasn’t a child’s weeping, it sounded like a man’s. But whose? He turned around and began searching the house. “Father?” he called, opening his parents' bedroom door. Nothing. But the closer he got to the front door the louder the weeping got. Upon exiting the house he flinched as a bright flash of light seared his eyeballs, making them water. He heard talking, and he strained to hear what was said even as the familiar faint scent of cigarette smoke and aftershave enveloped him.
The more he understood of what was being said, the heavier his arms got, and the harder it got to breathe, but somehow it wasn’t quite as bad as it had been. He tried to reply but it took a moment before he could force enough air through his larynx to make the right noises, and by the time he did, he and Cid were alone in the room again. “Obsessed…” he croaked.
“Maybe,” Cid said, smiling a little once the brief moment of shock at hearing Vincent's voice passed. “You gonna stick around this time?” he asked as he continued running his fingers through Vincent’s hair.
Vincent only sighed softly and shut his gritty eyes. “What happened?” He was disoriented and there was a slight pounding behind his eyeballs.
Cid snorted. “Why don’t you tell me? I got here an’ they said y’d d’cided t’go off an’ hide in yer mind or some shit. Y’shouldn’t do that, y’know. Y’ll get lost in there one day an’ I ain’t about t’go in after yer ass.”
“I’m sorry,” Vincent murmured and tried to roll away, winced at the spike of pain that caused, and promptly gave up. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“No, I reckon I wouldn’t. An’ stop that. Y’know I ain’t mad at you. They just shouldn’t’a done nothin’ t’make ya that upset, s’all. Got me right pissed off an’ I can’t do a thing about it.” Cid was a bit suspicious of Vincent’s sudden recovery, though once he considered the previous days’ events, he realized that he should not be. He searched Vincent’s face, knowing he was horrible for snapping at the poor man immediately. “M’sorry, Vincent. I just- I w’s scared. I still am. Seems like every time I find ya, I turn around an’ I done lost ya again.”
“My life…is dangerous, Cid.” He said on a breath. “You know that. Small wonder…this hasn’t happed…before now.” He pushed at Cid’s chest feebly with an IV-laden arm. “I told you…they would not leave…me alone.”
“They should have,” Cid muttered, having nothing better to say. He eased his arm out from under Vincent and left the bed, plopping onto the chair and staring at the closed window as if he could see through its shades as well as the panes. What was out there? Rooftops, streets, cars, people…nothing new, nothing pleasant, and nothing he wanted to see. “An’ they shoulda let me stay, an’ they shoulda called me…but people don’t do what they should. They do what they want.” He sighed to himself, now drawing his feet onto the chair and resting his head on his knees. “I don’t like ‘em.”
“Don’t dwell…on it.” Vincent grunted, having shoved the previous day and night to the back of his brain where he promptly tried to forget about it. Planting his elbows in the mattress he attempted to push himself up onto them. He gritted his teeth against the pain, but when he literally felt something rip inside his chest, he cried out and fell back onto the mattress. He had bitten his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. But that wasn’t all, there was a tickeling in the back of his throat and a flare of coppery taste in the back of his mouth which couldn’t be good. He slammed his fist into the mattress, which sounded more like a pat. “Dammit! I’m sick of…being on my…back. I want…up.” *
“Well that ain’t the way t’go about it! You wanna be here longer?” Cid sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Are y’hurtin’ bad enough t’call th’doctor?” At the glare he received in answer, Cid backed down with his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “A’ right, a’ right. I can’t feel what y’re feelin’, so I hafta ask. Now if you want me t’sit ya up, y’gotta promise me y’re gonna stay calm.” Cid had promised that he wouldn’t do anything without permission, but that had been yesterday. And anyway, people did what they wanted. Much as he might hate to associate himself with certain others of the species, Cid was human, too.
“I’m fine.” Vincent muttered, taking a moment to collect himself for a second try. Taking a couple of deep breaths and counting to three he pushed himself up onto his elbows. The pain made him dizzy, but he held his position, unmindful of the blood that began to trickle from the corner of his mouth. He couldn’t be bothered with such trivial things. He needed to get up, to sit up.
At that moment, Dr. Bugenhagen poked his head into the room again. His eyes widened in shock when he saw Vincent propping himself up. “Whoa whoa whoa!” He said, hurrying into the room and pushing Vincent back down by his shoulders, cursing under his breath as he wiped the blood from the man’s face. “Don’t do that! Your lung tissue is still way too fragile! At this rate you’ll hemorrhage even more and drown in your own blood. What’s gotten into you?” He was slowly becoming used to his patient’s rapid and sudden reactions.
“I want…up.” Vincent growled, pushing at Dr. Bugenhagen’s arm. “I’m sick of…being treated like an…invalid.”
Dr. Bugenhagen snorted. “Well, in case you haven’t noticed, Mr. Valentine, you are an invalid. Now, you’re welcome to try and get up, but let me give you something for the pain and bleeding first, deal?”
“Fine.” Vincent mumbled sullenly.
Nodding, Dr. Bugenhagen left to prepare a shot of painkillers. He also took the liberty of spiking the drug with a heavy sedative. Returning, he held up the syringe and at Vincent’s nod he injected the cocktail into the man’s IV line. “Okay, have at it.” He said, stepping back and crossing his arms.
“Fine.” Vincent repeated and began struggling to sit up again. He was halfway up when his arms and legs turned to lead and he thumped back down onto the mattress with a breathless and wide-eyed, “Whoa.”
Shaking his head, Dr. Bugenhagen looked over at Cid. “That can’t happen again. He’s nowhere near strong enough to do that safely. What went on to make him think he could get up?”
Cid, glum, looked at Bugenhagen with a wry smile on his lips. “That’s easy enough. I told ‘im not to.” He didn’t know why he was here. The part of Vincent that had begged him not to leave appeared to have retreated, and in its place was a stronger, more stubborn part. And yes, that was what they wanted, because Vincent was inherently stubborn, but he was moving too quickly and everyone in the room knew it-- except for Vincent, of course. “He tried once ‘fore I knew what ‘e was doin’, an’ then I offered t’raise th’bed ‘cause he’d be better off with that, an’ then ‘e did it again. What, did y’think he’d listen t’me?”
Dr. Bugenhagen was at a loss. “Yes, as a matter of fact I did. I saw him last night, and he seemed quite dependent upon you.” He looked back down at Vincent and shook his head. “I simply don’t understand this man. Would you like me to see if I can get one of our counselors or staff psychologists up here to speak to him? It almost seems like he has a dual personality.”
Cid shook his head at Bugenhagen. “Last night he couldn’t do anything but what he was doin’. I was somethin’ t’hold onto that he knew wouldn’t hurt ‘im. T’day he’s stronger, an’ he’s gonna push ‘imself. An’ I’m gonna let ‘im so long as it ain’t hurtin’ ‘im worse. He’s his own man, doc, not mine.” With a grin, Cid looked over at Vincent, who was still on the mild high the painkiller provided. “D’you even know how bad I’d get my ass chewed out later if I played mommy right now? Nope, I’m gonna be here because he wants me here, call you if ‘e looks like e’s dyin’, an’ otherwise just stay outta th’whole mess.”
Dr. Bugenhagen shook his head, not fully understanding. “There’s a time for pushing yourself and a time for listening to others and trusting that they know what’s best for you. It just so happens that this is one of those latter. Now, either keep him still, or I’ll put the restraints back on. Even with his amazing regenerative abilities, his body is still not in a position for that kind of exertion, end of argument. Tilt the bed up if you must, but if I see that again, so help me, I will re-evaluate my vehement argument to allow you to stay with him. Am I understood?”
“Yes sir,” Cid said, and followed it with, “but tell him, not me. If he was like he was yesterday, he’d do what I said, but t’day…well, he knows I won’t deny ‘im much, so he’ll do ‘is best t’get over on me, y’see? An’ I can’t threaten ‘im with leavin’ ‘cause he knows I won’t go. An’…well, dammit, Vincent , you c’n hear all o’ this. You payin’attention? I hope so. Behave or I’m gonna get kicked out, that’s th’main point of it.” Cid turned back to Bugenhagen. “That’s about all I c’n do. But I’ll try.” He shrugged. “I’d hate t’see th’restraints come back out, but I’ll call ya t’do just that if he don’t chill out.”
Vincent, still loopy from the pain medication/sedative cocktail, snorted and grinned. Dr. Bugehagen leveled a last look at Cid before pulling out a small notebook and scribbling a quick number on it. Handing it to Cid, he said, “This is my pager number. When prompted just hit 217, which is his room number, and I’ll come straight away.”
“A’ right. So if he gets all angry again I c’n call ya back t’shoot ‘im up with some more o’ that?” Cid asked hopefully. Bugenhagen’s look said clearly that Cid should take this more seriously. He tried. “Right. Well, I’ll do m’best t’keep ‘im under control without it, how’s that?” Bugenhagen nodded and left the room hesitantly, and Cid took up the chair again. One look at Vincent, who was happily studying the ceiling, was enough to set him laughing. He had to stifle it with his hand, which made him snort, and that in turn made the whole affair worse.
“Wha’s’funny?” Vincent asked cocking an eyebrow.
“I dunno,” Cid gasped. “You, maybe. ‘r me. Or hell, maybe it’s th’goddam bandersnatch crackin’ jokes.” He hadn’t gotten enough sleep last night; that must be the problem. “Where th’hell is that thing, anyway?” he asked idly, looking around and finally spying it on the other bed…and noticing the other bed for the first time. “Well, look at that! Step up from th’chair, I guess,” he muttered, and left said chair to collect Domino. “Here. Look at ‘im a little while. Make you laugh too, I bet,” he said, completely serious before dissolving into quiet laughter once again.
He didn’t quite see the funny, but Vincent took the stuffed animal anyway, plopped it on his lap and stared at it. He looked up at Cid. “He’s kinda cute.” He looked back at the bandersnatch and patted it like one would a dog. Then his eyes brightened and he looked back up at Cid. “It’s a bandersnatch!” He said delightedly, for no reason at all.
Cid snickered again and then finally calmed down and watched Vincent be happy at the stuffed animal. “Yep. Just like me, right?” Vincent kept petting the bandersnatch, and Cid reached over and started combing through Vincent’s hair again. “M’glad y’re feelin’ better. An’ I like it better when y’re happy. C’n I scoot in there again?”
Vincent grinned at Cid. “’kay.” And when the man was squeezed in next to him again, he said, “But yer…nod a bandersnatch. Those’re…more hairy.” He brought the stuffed animal up to his nose, still smiling happily and sniffed. “Hey! He…smells like you!” And sniffed it again.
“Not sure that’s a good thing,” Cid said, eyebrow raised, “also not sure how safe it is fer you t’do that. Gonna get hairs up yer nose.” Still, he made no move to stop Vincent. “I smell like me too, y’know,” he said seriously, grinning as he watched Vincent process that bit of information.
“You do?” Vincent asked, grasping Cid’s wrist and bringing it too up to his nose and sniffing. “You do! I like that smell. It reminds me of pumpkins.”
Pumpkins…well, that was new, but Cid didn’t see anything wrong with it. Especially if Vincent liked it. “Well, I’m glad y’like it.” He grinned at Vincent. “Y’know, I think I’m gonna hafta keep some o’ this stuff on hand fer a while. I like ya like this. Happy an’ all.” He lay there for a very brief moment, wondering what happened next, and then decided that there was no sense in planning. “So, Vincent…what’s yer favorite thing in th’whole wide world, huh?”
“Hm,” Vincent thought a moment. “Bunnies,” he said happily, looking up at Cid with a grin.
“Yeah? We’ll hafta get some then,” Cid said, amused. Bunnies. He doubted that very much. “What color?”
“That is a…a good question," Vincent said seriously. “Purple. Hm, yeah, purple ones…with orange spots.” He frowned and looked back up at Cid. “Do they…make ‘em like that?”
“Fer you, they do,” Cid answered benevolently. “I’ll find ya one o’ those, an’ one that’s blue w’green spots, an’ they c’n have all th’babies they want. How’s ‘at sound?”
“Good.” Vincent replied. “I like bunnies. Say, Cid? …” He fell silent, thought a moment, opened his mouth again, then shut it with a shrug and went back to petting the bandersnatch.
Cid propped himself up on one arm and looked curiously at Vincent. “What was that?” he asked, trying to keep the smile off his face so Vincent wouldn’t feel like Cid was laughing at him.
“I fergot…” Vincent said with a sheepish grin. “I can’t remember…stuff, it just comes ‘n goes, comes ‘n goes. You know…like tonberries. I’m glad…you’re here.”
“I’m glad I’m here too.” He settled down again -his arm had started aching far too quickly for his liking- and carefully draped the other arm over Vincent’s waist, low enough that it wouldn’t bother anything. “But I can’t wait t’take you outta here.”
“Cid…?” Vincent whispered.
“What, sugar?” Cid whispered back, hoping this was not a prelude to Vincent kicking him out.
Vincent did his best to look at Cid, his eyes wide and uneasy. “They’re dead. My father’s fish…are dead. And mother’s trees…oh, Cid…someone burned them.”
Having no idea if this was a memory or a creation of the drugs, Cid thought it best to just go along with it. “Oh, Vincent, I’m so sorry…we’ll fix it up, if y’want. We c’n get new fish, an’ see if th’trees c’n be fixed-” what did Cid know about trees? He’d seen only a very small number of them in his life- “an’ if they can’t, we’ll get new trees, too, an’ make it beautiful again. Me an’ you. We’ll watch th’fish all day long, an’ we’ll keep th’bunnies real close to ‘em so we c’n see ever’thing at th’same time. But I don’t know who burned ‘em. I’ll find out, an’ then I’ll kick ‘is ass. Deal?”
“’kay,” Vincent murmured as he worried the fur on the back of the bandersnatch.
“Vincent?” Cid whispered, watching Vincent and again feeling a bit guilty in the back of his mind.
“Mm?”
“I love you. D’you know that? I love you more’n you like that bandersnatch, I reckon.”
This made Vincent happy. Love was a gift, his mother told him that, and his mother also told him to say ‘thank you’ after you received a gift, and that was just what he did. “Thank you,” he said solemnly, then grew puzzled. “How d’you know…how much I like…the bandersnatch?”
“Well, I guess I don’t. But no matter how much y’like it, I love you more. That’s all I meant.” He kissed Vincent’s cheek and was content with that and a brief attempt at nuzzling his ear. It would be too easy to make Vincent uncomfortable now, and just as easy to hurt him with nothing more than a kiss. “But we’ll save that fer later. An’ yer welcome, by th’way, fer lovin’ ya. Y’deserve it. An’ I’m damned lucky t’have you.”
“More lucky,” Vincent mumbled suddenly quite drowsy. “Cid…don’t cry…I’m here, don’t cry.” And with a sigh, he drifted off, clutching the poor, ragged bandersnatch to his bandaged chest.
“I ain’t cryin’. Not anymore.” He felt more than saw Vincent drift into his daze; the bed actually shifted with the release of tension in Vincent’s body. Even on the drugs, he’d been so wound up… “You rest. I know y’re here now.” With that, he eased himself out of the bed and into the chair, afraid to go to sleep lest Vincent attempt to sit up on his own again.
The day wore on; Vincent struggled and was still in infrequent, unpredictable bouts. Bugenhagen only had to be called twice, though, and only to do something about the pain. For the most part, Vincent behaved himself and listened when Cid said he would have to leave if he did not. Though the rest of the day was mostly uneventful, Cid didn’t think he’d ever forget the look on Bugenhagen’s face when he walked in later in the evening to find them both laughing, Cid almost hysterically, to announce that it was time for the lights to go out in the hall, and that he was administering another round of painkilling mako and something to help Vincent get to sleep.