Midgar Burning Chapter 48
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 48
The next day dawned just as the one before it had: with someone taking his blood pressure and asking him if he were “all right”. Vincent wanted to say, ‘Do I look like I’m fucking twelve years old? I kill people for a living, now show me some damn respect!’ What really happened was a sigh and a nod of his head. After the nurse left, he looked over at the sleeping form of Cid Highwind, lying sprawled precariously on the tiny trundle bed. He smiled gently. Cid had never left his side, even when he could tell that this place was driving him insane. It wasn’t fair that he keep Cid here, but he didn’t think he could have made it without him. Small smile still in place, Vincent just contented himself to watch Cid sleep, chuckling when the man snorted and tried to roll over, realized he was the edge, cursed then flipped himself onto his stomach and buried his head under the crappy, flat pillow.
Today was not going to be a good day. Cid had been chasing sleep for the past three hours, catching it, and then being jerked away from it again. The sensible thing to do would be to wake up and go for donuts, but he just didn’t want to. There was simply too much to think about while he was awake. After nearly rolling off the bed again perhaps half an hour after Vincent had observed him doing the same, Cid decided it really was time to just get up and face the day. His eyes were gritty when he finally sat up, and he rubbed them blearily, certain he was making faces at Vincent without trying to. “Mornin’,” he grumped, now grinning despite his tone.
Vincent looked at Cid fondly. “I would say ‘good morning’, but I don’t think ‘good’ has any business being here. Cid, you look exhausted, maybe you should go home and get some real rest.”
Cid shook his head. “Nah. Like I said, I’d rather be here an’ know y’re okay than be somewhere else an’ wond’rin’. Plus I fought hard t’be allowed t’stay here, an’ I ain’t gonna give that up. B’sides, I wouldn’t sleep no better at home. Be worried ‘bout more crazies comin’ after ya an’ talkin' foreign languages atcha.” He winced. “I, uh, prob’ly shoulda told ya ‘bout that sooner, huh? Only I did’t know how y’d take it, bein’ all out of it an’ stuff most th’time.”
Vincent blinked, confused. “Yes, you should have. What are you talking about, Cid?”
Cid grinned sheepishly. “Hell, if I knew, it prob’ly wouldn’t be such a big deal. These three weirdos came in th’first day I was sittin’ with ya b’fore y’woke up th’first time, when they were tellin’ us you were dyin’? Big, all three of ‘em. Tall, that is. Funny accents, an’ really…I dunno, just all around intimidatin’. Shoved me outta th’way an’ had th’chick keep me cornered while th’two guys- I dunno. They did somethin’.” He was uncomfortable talking about it for some reason now, possibly because of the look on Vincent’s face. “I woulda stopped ‘em, but even th’chick was stronger’n me. W’s kinda scared, actually. But they said somethin’, somethin’ long…I don’t know what it was, an’ I couldn’t understand any of it. But then they cut their hands an’ yours, an’ they all kissed ya an’ walked out. Wouldn’t let me ask no questions, either.”
Vincent had grown increasingly more pale the longer Cid talked. “Did the woman say anything to you?”
“They all called ya ‘brother.’ S’why I didn’t run fer a doctor after they left. It felt like…they were s’posed’a be there, even though I w’s worried.” Cid thought hard, and remembered what she had told him to remember. “She told me t’remember what I saw, an’ ‘When y’fuck with Vincent, y’fuck with th’Syndicate.’ I sure as hell hope that means somethin’ t’you,” he said, watching Vincent’s face carefully for any reaction.
“Cut my hands,” Vincent whispered, holding his palms up to look at them. Yes, there they were; two tiny scars, one on each palm, so faint as to be nearly invisible. He flexed his fingers, making fists twice and frowned, struggling to remember what he knew of Modeoheim culture. He made a point to research all those he became acquainted and did business with, The Syndicate was no different. Nothing came to mind immediately of any kind of ritual that would involve bloodletting like this. All of the more modern day rituals were more formality, done for show, but this one… He swallowed, feeling a little lightheaded. There was one ritual, as old as recorded time in Modeoheim that was still regarded as sacred and continued to be upheld, as strong as any law. Could it be that Weiss and Nero had bound themselves to him? He looked up at Cid, nearly speechless. “Cid, if this is what I think it is?” He shook his head, reluctant to believe it. “Have you heard of ‘blood brothers’, how children would nick their fingers and stick them together?”
Cid nodded thoughtfully. “I thought that’s what it mighta been, just on a larger scale. But, uh, are they people y’d want that with? I mean, they seemed t’care about ya an’ all, but…d’you trust them enough t’hold up their end of it? They sure didn’t give ya much choice.”
“No, they didn’t,” Vincent muttered. “And no, I don’t trust them, they’re psychopaths. But this?” He held up his palms to show Cid the fine scars. “These tell me that I can. Modeonians are an old people, Cid. They have always held great belief in their gods and rituals. Over time many beliefs have faded, as they have in most cultures on Gaia now. But there is one ritual that has survived the rigors of time.” He rested his head back on his pillow. “It’s called the Bond, and you’re right. It’s like the childhood ‘bloodbrother’ only on an immensely larger and potentially more violent scale. This ritual is upheld and recognized by everyone in Modeoheim. If your palm is marked, you are treated carefully because no one knows who your “family” is. The Bond is a serious thing, Cid. Normally it’s between two consenting parties, but…” He frowned again, not at all pleased that this was done without his consent. “…Given my state, I think Weiss and Nero were only doing what they thought they had to. Since they couldn’t avenge me, they did the next best thing.” He snorted. “Modeonians are an arrogant people; if you aren’t from Modeoheim, you are inferior. I worked long and hard to win their respect. This is just proof of just how thorough I was. I’m shocked, quite frankly, that they did this, especially given my heritage.”
“Well,” Cid drawled, taking in all the information and sorting through it. “Just don’t invite any of ‘em over fer dinner without lettin’ me find a way outta th’house first, ‘kay? They won’t hurt you, but I reckon I look like something they c’n pick their teeth with.” He snorted. “’Little man,’ she called me. I’d say ‘I’ll show her,’ but I reckon she’s just about right.” After expelling a heavy sigh, he sat on the edge of Vincent’s bed. “Just like how I’d tell ya t’be more careful, ‘cept I know y’already were.” Another moment of silence, full but still comfortable and warm, passed between them before Cid asked, “You understand a little better now, don’t ya?”
Vincent frowned again, this time in confusion as he blinked up at Cid. “Understand?”
“Me. Th’parts y’didn’t understand at th’beginnin’ o’ last weekend. Just…it seems like so long ago, but now I c’n tell…y’ve realized somethin’. I don’t know what it was, but somethin’ clicked for ya or somethin’, an’ now y’see why I’ve done a lot o’ things I did. Might be y’ain’t even thought much about it, but I c’n see it. I c’n feel it. It makes me feel like…like I finally done somethin’ right, instead o’ just all wrong like usual. It makes me feel like I’m flyin’ already t’know that now I can look at ya an’ tell ya I love ya an’ watch ya believe it instead o’ just smilin’ an’ lettin’ it bounce off ya.” He smiled and took Vincent’s hand. “An’ it means so much t’me that I’m here right now. That y’re lettin’ me be here…y’want me here. I don’t think I c’n even tell ya what that feels like.”
Vincent blinked again, as moved as he was confused. “You’ve never done anything wrong, Cid. I just- “ He floundered a little looking for the right words so he wouldn’t inadvertently hurt Cid, like he was so damned good at doing. “I just never expected to feel these things again, and for a man to make me feel like this, I- “ he looked up at Cid, lost for what to say next. “I don’t know how we could ever make this work, but I want you here.” That he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt.
“I know,” Cid said, and thought that Vincent could not have possibly hurt him with anything he’d said. “I’m so happy. Guess that’s all I really wanted t’say,” he said, looking down at their hands and then looking back up at Vincent almost shyly before moving in to kiss him. “There’s another cookie for ya.” And he would get those bunnies for Vincent. All he needed was food coloring.”Thank you.”
For what? Was on the tip of his tongue, but Vincent did not ask it. He knew when to not speak…usually. Instead he just smiled up at Cid and squeezed his hand. A quiet clearing of a throat at the door broke the moment and Vincent looked over to see Tseng standing in the doorway, hand resting over his heart, eyebrows raised is question. “Am I disturbing you?”
Cid shook his head and sat back, leaving the chair free for Tseng if he chose to use it.
Vincent’s smile widened as he held out his hand to his best friend. Tseng, tentative smile in place, walked over to the bed and took it. “You look much better than the last time I saw you, niisan.”
“I’m sure I feel much better as well. It was a rough couple of days, and don’t think I would have gotten through it without Cid, to be completely honest.” Vincent said soberly.
Tseng looked over at the cop, eyebrow raised. “Oh?”
Cid shrugged, uncomfortable under Tseng’s scrutiny. “I told ya I wanted t’be here for ‘im, an’ I have been.”
Tseng nodded. “So you have.” He addressed Vincent again, giving him a stern look, “Cid also tells me that you have been walking? You should be resting, Vincent.”
Vincent rolled his eyes, giving Tseng a cocky, lopsided grin. “Probably, but I had to get up. I swear I’m developing bed sores on my ass.”
Tseng snorted and crossed his arms. “Extremely unlikely, Valentine. But you’re not ready to walk yet, it wore you out too easily.”
“I’m fine, Tseng, stop acting like my father.”
“Somebody has to.” Tseng muttered, looking away and over at Cid, who whistled softly and found something rather interesting on the ceiling.
“Oh! Did you know that apparently the Syndicate came to see me while I was in a coma?” Vincent said, arching a black brow.
“All of them?” Tseng asked incredulously.
“All but Azul,” Vincent snorted in disgust. “Which reminds me, I need to set up a meeting to discuss what they’re planning to do about him, as well as our new…arrangement.”
“Arrangment?” Tseng asked, frowning.
Vincent held up his palms, eyebrow still raised. Tseng’s hands shot out and wrapped around Vincent’s wrists, pulling them toward him so that he could squint down at them, and yanking Vincent to the side abruptly. Vincent winced and muttered, “Ow.”
“Sorry,” Tseng mumbled back, studying Vincent’s palms. “Are these…?”
“Yep,” Vincent sighed. “Apparently, according to Cid who witnessed this, Weiss and Nero both performed the ritual for the Bond.”
Tseng’s jaw dropped and he literally gaped at Vincent for a full minute, in which Vincent laughed and said, “Are you trying to catch flies, Tseng?”
Shutting his mouth with a snap, the Wutaian was incredulous. “I can’t believe it.” He breathed. “You’re Wutainese, Vincent, and a half-breed to boot! Have they lost what marbles they have left?”
Vincent shrugged. “I have no idea what motivated them to do this, which is why I need to meet with them.”
“Do you know what this means?” Tseng said, his eyes sparkling like black diamonds.
Vincent’s eyebrow rose again and he gave Tseng a droll, ‘Do you really expect me to answer that?’ stare.
If asked, Cid would have sworn that Vincent and Tseng had an entire conversation with their eyes just then- one they could not risk having even Cid overhear. It made him feel out of place, but then, he always felt that way when around both Tseng and Vincent. He remained silent, surreptitiously taking the bandersnatch from Vincent’s side and beginning to pet it distractedly as he thought of all he had to get done in the next few days. He felt that the most important thing was being with Vincent, but Vincent was much better now. In a day or two, if the doctors insisted on keeping him here, Cid would leave for a few hours and meet with Zack at the station to give samples and answer questions, if there were more questions. Then he would clean out his refrigerator, which was undoubtedly beginning to smell even though it was still running. And then….he was sure there was more, but he found he was more interested in listening to Tseng and Vincent; they were speaking again, and he wanted to make sure it wasn’t about him.
Tseng snorted at Vincent’s expression. He released Vincent’s hands to cross his arms over his chest again and looked sternly down at his friend. “What is this going to do to your alliance with the Kisaragis? They’re not going to like this, relations were bad enough without this new ‘development’.”
Vincent sighed tiredly. “I’m not going to tell them for as long as I can. I need to take over ShinRa first and see to the financial infrastructure here first before I risk starting a war with another country.” He rubbed his hands over his face. “Just thinking about all that I have to do wears me out. Where do I begin?”
“There’s time to figure all of that out. ShinRa Pharmaceuticals is currently stuck in probate, and your lawyers are working on it. So far everything is running smoothly. That was a smart move getting those document signed, Vincent, if a risky one. I shouldn’t have doubted you.”
Vincent nodded before reaching for Cid’s hand and threading their fingers together. He squeezed the cop’s hand as he asked softly, not looking up from his lap, “What of Rufus’s office and personal quarters?”
Tseng shot Cid a quick look before he answered gently. “We left them. We thought you would want to deal with them yourself. Legally, we can’t touch anything in them until the courts close on probate, but that should be concluded in the next few days. The police searched both, of course, and removed a few things, but largely they’re still intact. There were…questions…about the blood, chains and-“ he hesitated, glancing down briefly. “…tools. I told them of ShinRa’s…perversions, but mentioned nothing of you.”
Vincent swallowed, cheeks heating up in shame before he met Tseng’s eyes. “Thank you.” He nodded and laid his head back against the pillows, shutting his eyes and squeezing Cid’s hand a little harder. “Thank you.”
Tseng reached out and stroked Vincent’s hair tenderly. “It’s over, Vincent. He can’t hurt you anymore.”
After resisting the urge to tell Tseng not to treat Vincent like a child (he resisted it only because he knew he would have done the same had Tseng not beaten him to it), Cid squeezed Vincent’s hand in return. He did not want Vincent to have to think about this now, or to have to face it all again later. Nothing he could do would stop that, of course, and in the back of his mind, he selfishly hoped that he would not be asked to accompany Vincent into that place. He did not want to see it, or see the “tools,” as Tseng termed them, that had caused Vincent so much pain. He also did not want Vincent to have to deal with it on his own if he wanted company. He made his decision then, and leaned forward to kiss the hand he was holding. From this moment on, Cid would be wherever Vincent asked him to be, regardless of how uncomfortable it made him.
A soft knocking at the door pulled them out of their silence as Dr. Bugenhagen poked his head in with a smile. “Good morning, gentlemen!”
Vincent craned his head and managed a smile back at the loyal and determined doctor. The man’s care of him had been first rate even with the unwanted attention he had received before he had been switched to this floor; it was hardly the doctor’s fault. “Good morning, doctor," he said softly.
Tseng nodded his good morning, holding out his hand, which the doctor took in a firm grip. “Doctor,” Tseng said seriously. “I was wanting to ask you about Vincent’s condition as of right now.”
Dr. Bugenhagen’s eyebrow rose and he nodded. “That’s right, you haven’t been around for me to talk to. Well,” he crossed his arms over his chest. “Right now, I’d say that he’s well out of any immediate life-threatening danger.”
“What do you mean by ‘right now’?” Tseng asked, frowning.
“Well, I took Mr. Valentine for some scans the other day and what I saw bothered me,” Dr. Bugenhagen answered tapping his chin, brow creased in thought. “When you all brought him in we had to work fast to repair as much damage as we could just to save his life, which meant that we had to leave several harder to reach bullet and bone fragments in his chest cavity. Now given his truly remarkable physiology, he’s appeared to have healed around those fragments. The bone fragments don’t concern me as much as the metal fragments do. There is one particular piece buried dangerously close to his aorta, which is why you’re experiencing such sharp chest pain when you stand up,” he said to Vincent who was watching him with an unreadable expression. “And there are several other fragments that we couldn’t get to due to their location that are putting too much strain on your lungs during exertion or heavy breathing, which in turn is making you weak as your muscles are not getting enough oxygen. I’m afraid you’ll have to undergo more surgery so we can try and remove those fragments or you may never achieve full lung capacity again. And if you exert yourself too much you are at risk of rupturing a major artery.”
“What would be considered ‘too much’, doctor?” Tseng asked, concern coloring his voice.
“Any strenuous activity,” Dr. Bugenhagen shrugged helplessly. “From running to heavy lifting to sex, it’s hard to say. So until we can get in there and remove that bullet fragment, I would suggest you take it extremely easy. I would feel more comfortable if you remained in hospital until we can perform the surgery.”
Vincent gaped at the doctor. “So just put my life on hold, is that what you’re saying? Doctor, I can’t do that.”
Dr. Bugenhagen sighed. “If you don’t, and rupture that artery, you could die.”
“Vincent,” Cid said softly, squeezing his hand again. “Let them handle things as long as it takes fer you t’heal. You won’t be no good t’anybody if y’try t’go about yer business an’ end up right back here.” It wasn’t Cid’s business, and he knew that, but someone had to state the obvious. “B’sides, you’ve needed rest like this fer longer than anybody knows. Think of it like that, an’ not as puttin’ things on hold. Maybe it ain’t yer ideal vacation, but it’s what y’need right now. Please don’t make it worse tryin’a push yerself.”
Irritated by the news, Vincent said a little harsher than he had planned, “I don’t need you lecturing me on my life, Highwind.” Then to the doctor, “I’ll attempt to ‘take it easy’, doctor, but there are things that I must attend to that cannot be ‘put off’. It is an acceptable risk.”
“Vincent,” Tseng sighed. “Don’t be difficult. Listen to Cid, he has a point. What good are you to any of us if you’re dead?”
But Vincent hadn’t heard Tseng, as something else had occurred to him, something of vital importance that he had all but forgotten about. Face pale he looked at Tseng and the doctor. “What day is it?”
“Vincent-“ Tseng began wearily.
“What day is it?” Vincent snapped savagely.
“Thursday.” Tseng blurted, startled at Vincent’s vehemence. “Why?” Then Tseng realized what Vincent was saying. “Surely you’re not thinking of leaving here, are you? Are you?” At Vincent’s resolute expression, it was Tseng’s turn to pale. “Vincent, that’s suicide.”
“Doctor,” Vincent said calmly, ignoring Tseng completely. “I need you to prepare whatever papers necessary that will facilitate my discharge tomorrow. At noon, with or without them, I will be walking out that door.”
Dr. Bugenhagen shook his head. “I cannot condone that.”
Vincent just stared, unblinking at Dr. Bugenhagen until the doctor began to fidget and twitch. Finally the man sighed in defeat. “Technically, you are fit enough to leave, but I will formaly protest and put on your discharge papers that your release is strictly against your doctor’s orders.”
“Acceptable.” Vincent said with finality.
Dr. Bugenhagen shook his head again. “But I strongly urge you to reconsider, Mr. Valentine. With your physiology, the recovery time will be negligible, it’s just a matter of days!”
But Vincent wouldn’t hear any of it. “I’m leaving. What will I need?”
Dr. Bugenhagen ground his teeth, and judging by his dark-haired friend’s expression the man wanted to throttle his patient, not that he could blame him! “Supervision,” Dr. Bugenhagen said in a tone that brooked no argument. “And I’ll send you home with oxygen, you’re going to need it. We’ll also schedule a time for you to come back for your surgery.”
“Fine.” Vincent waved his hand, sidetracked by his own thoughts. He had become more irritable as the days wore on, and he had a suspicion a lot of it had to do with his increasing state of…stink. He still had dried blood matted in his hair. “I do not suppose there is a shower that I might use?”
Dr. Bugenhagen nodded his head, very much still displeased with his patient’s stubbornness. “Across the hall and down two doors. There are towels and soap in there. I’ll call a nurse, you shouldn’t attempt to bathe alone.”
“I’ll be fine,” Vincent said quietly.
“As you wish,” Dr. Bugenhagen said a little flippantly. “I’ll just see to your discharge papers now. But I will state again how much I discourage this decision,” he said firmly before leaving without giving Vincent a chance to reply.
After the doctor left, Tseng took an aggressive step toward Vincent and hissed, “What has gotten into you?” He glared darkly down at Vincent. “Do you have any idea what all this has done to us? That you could so…carelessly risk yourself like this?”
Vincent’s returning stare was cold. “Does it look like I care, Tseng? What I have to do is beyond your comprehension and my own business, as it has always been. Do not question me.”
“Fine,” Tseng snarled. “Then I’m going with you. You heard the doctor: Supervision. You want to kill yourself, then fine, but I’m not going to let you do it without a fight.”
“Absolutely not,” Vincent snarled right back, leaning up toward Tseng in emphasis, completely unmindful of the pain that movement caused. “I’ll not expose you to that. It’s my past, my sin, my problem. Now back the hell off and drop it.”
The two men fell silent, but the tension in the room was palpable as two sets of eyes, one blood red and the other black as night and both equally stubborn, fought to knock the other down.
“Knock that th’hell off, both o’ ya,” Cid said wearily. He had, somehow, managed to make himself stay in the room throughout the drawn-out three-way debate, and even more amazingly, remained quiet despite the thoughts churning in his head. He stood and moved between them, facing Tseng first. “Don’t tell him what t’do. He ain’t yours t’command.” Almost before the words had finished leaving his mouth, he had turned to Vincent. “You ain’t mine t’command either. I ain’t gonna tell ya what t’do, mostly ‘cause I know you ain’t gonna listen to a damned thing we say. I will tell ya that I’d prefer y’play it safe, because it’s not an acceptable risk, not t’me. Losin’ you in any way ain’t acceptable. But if it’s what you wanna do…” he shrugged. “Do you remember when y’said y’wanna do right by me? This ain’t no time t’make things be about me; I know that. But if you wanna do good by me, Vincent, then let me be there. Let me be wherever you are, whenever you need support. Let it be me who makes sure that when y’do finally push yerself too far, you won’t be alone.” He paused before continuing. “You’re my whole world now, Vincent. Your past is my past, your sin is my sin, your problems are my problems. If you can’t accept that…well, you’ll make your decision t’morra. You’ll have your papers, an’ you’ll be outta here t’morra, with me or without me. I understand that, an’ I won’t try t’stop ya.” Cid placed his hand on the bed, palm up, near Vincent’s. “But please, if y’re gonna take my wants an’ needs an’ fears an’ dreams an’ sins an’ troubles onta your plate, let me have yours too.” Rejection now would sting like none ever had, Cid knew, but that was an acceptable risk when compared to the risk of Vincent's death. “You would be here for me,” he whispered.
Vincent was struck rather speechless by Cid’s lecture. He regarded the tired-looking man -and he did look exhausted- for a moment before gently placing his hand in Cid’s. “’Doing right by you’, Cid, means keeping you far, far away from the hell that was my life for ten years. I can’t let you do it either. It’s bad enough I have to keep reliving it, but you’re too good to relive it with me.” He shook his head. “No, I can’t let you do it. I’m sorry.”
Cid shook his head. “That’s not th’way it works,” he said sadly, but knew there was little he could do to change Vincent’s mind. Suddenly an idea hit him, and though he wasn’t sure where it had come from, he wasn’t questioning it. “How ‘bout this. We’ll make a deal. You wanted a shower, right? If you c’n make it through yer shower an’ come out satisfied with how clean y’are, I won’t say another word about it. If y’find y’need any help at all, y’hafta take me with ya.”
Vincent eyed Cid suspiciously for a minute as he considered the wager. It was simple enough, and he was sure he could shower on his own; all he had to do was stand there, right? If he could stand to piss, then he could stand to shower. Finally he nodded, “All right, it’s a deal. I shower on my own, I leave on my own. I yield and require help then you may come with me.”
Out of Vincent’s eyesight, Tseng smirked and looked away. This just might work. At least he hoped to Leviathan that it would.
Cid nodded and firmly shook the hand he was holding. “A deal it is.” He looked sideways at Tseng and caught a glimpse of the quickly-hidden smirk on his face. He did not smile in response as he wanted to, instead simply taking up residence in his chair again and waiting. “You wanna go now while he’s out gettin’ yer papers t’gether?”
“Probably should, I really need a shower. Would you care to wait, Tseng?” Vincent asked easing his legs over the edge of the bed with a wince.
Tseng shook his head, his easy calm back in place, as though they hadn’t nearly come to blows. “No, unfortunately I have business that needs to be taken care of. Enjoy your shower, Vincent, and be careful.” He leveled a meaningful look at Cid, nodded to them both then took his leave.
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 48
The next day dawned just as the one before it had: with someone taking his blood pressure and asking him if he were “all right”. Vincent wanted to say, ‘Do I look like I’m fucking twelve years old? I kill people for a living, now show me some damn respect!’ What really happened was a sigh and a nod of his head. After the nurse left, he looked over at the sleeping form of Cid Highwind, lying sprawled precariously on the tiny trundle bed. He smiled gently. Cid had never left his side, even when he could tell that this place was driving him insane. It wasn’t fair that he keep Cid here, but he didn’t think he could have made it without him. Small smile still in place, Vincent just contented himself to watch Cid sleep, chuckling when the man snorted and tried to roll over, realized he was the edge, cursed then flipped himself onto his stomach and buried his head under the crappy, flat pillow.
Today was not going to be a good day. Cid had been chasing sleep for the past three hours, catching it, and then being jerked away from it again. The sensible thing to do would be to wake up and go for donuts, but he just didn’t want to. There was simply too much to think about while he was awake. After nearly rolling off the bed again perhaps half an hour after Vincent had observed him doing the same, Cid decided it really was time to just get up and face the day. His eyes were gritty when he finally sat up, and he rubbed them blearily, certain he was making faces at Vincent without trying to. “Mornin’,” he grumped, now grinning despite his tone.
Vincent looked at Cid fondly. “I would say ‘good morning’, but I don’t think ‘good’ has any business being here. Cid, you look exhausted, maybe you should go home and get some real rest.”
Cid shook his head. “Nah. Like I said, I’d rather be here an’ know y’re okay than be somewhere else an’ wond’rin’. Plus I fought hard t’be allowed t’stay here, an’ I ain’t gonna give that up. B’sides, I wouldn’t sleep no better at home. Be worried ‘bout more crazies comin’ after ya an’ talkin' foreign languages atcha.” He winced. “I, uh, prob’ly shoulda told ya ‘bout that sooner, huh? Only I did’t know how y’d take it, bein’ all out of it an’ stuff most th’time.”
Vincent blinked, confused. “Yes, you should have. What are you talking about, Cid?”
Cid grinned sheepishly. “Hell, if I knew, it prob’ly wouldn’t be such a big deal. These three weirdos came in th’first day I was sittin’ with ya b’fore y’woke up th’first time, when they were tellin’ us you were dyin’? Big, all three of ‘em. Tall, that is. Funny accents, an’ really…I dunno, just all around intimidatin’. Shoved me outta th’way an’ had th’chick keep me cornered while th’two guys- I dunno. They did somethin’.” He was uncomfortable talking about it for some reason now, possibly because of the look on Vincent’s face. “I woulda stopped ‘em, but even th’chick was stronger’n me. W’s kinda scared, actually. But they said somethin’, somethin’ long…I don’t know what it was, an’ I couldn’t understand any of it. But then they cut their hands an’ yours, an’ they all kissed ya an’ walked out. Wouldn’t let me ask no questions, either.”
Vincent had grown increasingly more pale the longer Cid talked. “Did the woman say anything to you?”
“They all called ya ‘brother.’ S’why I didn’t run fer a doctor after they left. It felt like…they were s’posed’a be there, even though I w’s worried.” Cid thought hard, and remembered what she had told him to remember. “She told me t’remember what I saw, an’ ‘When y’fuck with Vincent, y’fuck with th’Syndicate.’ I sure as hell hope that means somethin’ t’you,” he said, watching Vincent’s face carefully for any reaction.
“Cut my hands,” Vincent whispered, holding his palms up to look at them. Yes, there they were; two tiny scars, one on each palm, so faint as to be nearly invisible. He flexed his fingers, making fists twice and frowned, struggling to remember what he knew of Modeoheim culture. He made a point to research all those he became acquainted and did business with, The Syndicate was no different. Nothing came to mind immediately of any kind of ritual that would involve bloodletting like this. All of the more modern day rituals were more formality, done for show, but this one… He swallowed, feeling a little lightheaded. There was one ritual, as old as recorded time in Modeoheim that was still regarded as sacred and continued to be upheld, as strong as any law. Could it be that Weiss and Nero had bound themselves to him? He looked up at Cid, nearly speechless. “Cid, if this is what I think it is?” He shook his head, reluctant to believe it. “Have you heard of ‘blood brothers’, how children would nick their fingers and stick them together?”
Cid nodded thoughtfully. “I thought that’s what it mighta been, just on a larger scale. But, uh, are they people y’d want that with? I mean, they seemed t’care about ya an’ all, but…d’you trust them enough t’hold up their end of it? They sure didn’t give ya much choice.”
“No, they didn’t,” Vincent muttered. “And no, I don’t trust them, they’re psychopaths. But this?” He held up his palms to show Cid the fine scars. “These tell me that I can. Modeonians are an old people, Cid. They have always held great belief in their gods and rituals. Over time many beliefs have faded, as they have in most cultures on Gaia now. But there is one ritual that has survived the rigors of time.” He rested his head back on his pillow. “It’s called the Bond, and you’re right. It’s like the childhood ‘bloodbrother’ only on an immensely larger and potentially more violent scale. This ritual is upheld and recognized by everyone in Modeoheim. If your palm is marked, you are treated carefully because no one knows who your “family” is. The Bond is a serious thing, Cid. Normally it’s between two consenting parties, but…” He frowned again, not at all pleased that this was done without his consent. “…Given my state, I think Weiss and Nero were only doing what they thought they had to. Since they couldn’t avenge me, they did the next best thing.” He snorted. “Modeonians are an arrogant people; if you aren’t from Modeoheim, you are inferior. I worked long and hard to win their respect. This is just proof of just how thorough I was. I’m shocked, quite frankly, that they did this, especially given my heritage.”
“Well,” Cid drawled, taking in all the information and sorting through it. “Just don’t invite any of ‘em over fer dinner without lettin’ me find a way outta th’house first, ‘kay? They won’t hurt you, but I reckon I look like something they c’n pick their teeth with.” He snorted. “’Little man,’ she called me. I’d say ‘I’ll show her,’ but I reckon she’s just about right.” After expelling a heavy sigh, he sat on the edge of Vincent’s bed. “Just like how I’d tell ya t’be more careful, ‘cept I know y’already were.” Another moment of silence, full but still comfortable and warm, passed between them before Cid asked, “You understand a little better now, don’t ya?”
Vincent frowned again, this time in confusion as he blinked up at Cid. “Understand?”
“Me. Th’parts y’didn’t understand at th’beginnin’ o’ last weekend. Just…it seems like so long ago, but now I c’n tell…y’ve realized somethin’. I don’t know what it was, but somethin’ clicked for ya or somethin’, an’ now y’see why I’ve done a lot o’ things I did. Might be y’ain’t even thought much about it, but I c’n see it. I c’n feel it. It makes me feel like…like I finally done somethin’ right, instead o’ just all wrong like usual. It makes me feel like I’m flyin’ already t’know that now I can look at ya an’ tell ya I love ya an’ watch ya believe it instead o’ just smilin’ an’ lettin’ it bounce off ya.” He smiled and took Vincent’s hand. “An’ it means so much t’me that I’m here right now. That y’re lettin’ me be here…y’want me here. I don’t think I c’n even tell ya what that feels like.”
Vincent blinked again, as moved as he was confused. “You’ve never done anything wrong, Cid. I just- “ He floundered a little looking for the right words so he wouldn’t inadvertently hurt Cid, like he was so damned good at doing. “I just never expected to feel these things again, and for a man to make me feel like this, I- “ he looked up at Cid, lost for what to say next. “I don’t know how we could ever make this work, but I want you here.” That he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt.
“I know,” Cid said, and thought that Vincent could not have possibly hurt him with anything he’d said. “I’m so happy. Guess that’s all I really wanted t’say,” he said, looking down at their hands and then looking back up at Vincent almost shyly before moving in to kiss him. “There’s another cookie for ya.” And he would get those bunnies for Vincent. All he needed was food coloring.”Thank you.”
For what? Was on the tip of his tongue, but Vincent did not ask it. He knew when to not speak…usually. Instead he just smiled up at Cid and squeezed his hand. A quiet clearing of a throat at the door broke the moment and Vincent looked over to see Tseng standing in the doorway, hand resting over his heart, eyebrows raised is question. “Am I disturbing you?”
Cid shook his head and sat back, leaving the chair free for Tseng if he chose to use it.
Vincent’s smile widened as he held out his hand to his best friend. Tseng, tentative smile in place, walked over to the bed and took it. “You look much better than the last time I saw you, niisan.”
“I’m sure I feel much better as well. It was a rough couple of days, and don’t think I would have gotten through it without Cid, to be completely honest.” Vincent said soberly.
Tseng looked over at the cop, eyebrow raised. “Oh?”
Cid shrugged, uncomfortable under Tseng’s scrutiny. “I told ya I wanted t’be here for ‘im, an’ I have been.”
Tseng nodded. “So you have.” He addressed Vincent again, giving him a stern look, “Cid also tells me that you have been walking? You should be resting, Vincent.”
Vincent rolled his eyes, giving Tseng a cocky, lopsided grin. “Probably, but I had to get up. I swear I’m developing bed sores on my ass.”
Tseng snorted and crossed his arms. “Extremely unlikely, Valentine. But you’re not ready to walk yet, it wore you out too easily.”
“I’m fine, Tseng, stop acting like my father.”
“Somebody has to.” Tseng muttered, looking away and over at Cid, who whistled softly and found something rather interesting on the ceiling.
“Oh! Did you know that apparently the Syndicate came to see me while I was in a coma?” Vincent said, arching a black brow.
“All of them?” Tseng asked incredulously.
“All but Azul,” Vincent snorted in disgust. “Which reminds me, I need to set up a meeting to discuss what they’re planning to do about him, as well as our new…arrangement.”
“Arrangment?” Tseng asked, frowning.
Vincent held up his palms, eyebrow still raised. Tseng’s hands shot out and wrapped around Vincent’s wrists, pulling them toward him so that he could squint down at them, and yanking Vincent to the side abruptly. Vincent winced and muttered, “Ow.”
“Sorry,” Tseng mumbled back, studying Vincent’s palms. “Are these…?”
“Yep,” Vincent sighed. “Apparently, according to Cid who witnessed this, Weiss and Nero both performed the ritual for the Bond.”
Tseng’s jaw dropped and he literally gaped at Vincent for a full minute, in which Vincent laughed and said, “Are you trying to catch flies, Tseng?”
Shutting his mouth with a snap, the Wutaian was incredulous. “I can’t believe it.” He breathed. “You’re Wutainese, Vincent, and a half-breed to boot! Have they lost what marbles they have left?”
Vincent shrugged. “I have no idea what motivated them to do this, which is why I need to meet with them.”
“Do you know what this means?” Tseng said, his eyes sparkling like black diamonds.
Vincent’s eyebrow rose again and he gave Tseng a droll, ‘Do you really expect me to answer that?’ stare.
If asked, Cid would have sworn that Vincent and Tseng had an entire conversation with their eyes just then- one they could not risk having even Cid overhear. It made him feel out of place, but then, he always felt that way when around both Tseng and Vincent. He remained silent, surreptitiously taking the bandersnatch from Vincent’s side and beginning to pet it distractedly as he thought of all he had to get done in the next few days. He felt that the most important thing was being with Vincent, but Vincent was much better now. In a day or two, if the doctors insisted on keeping him here, Cid would leave for a few hours and meet with Zack at the station to give samples and answer questions, if there were more questions. Then he would clean out his refrigerator, which was undoubtedly beginning to smell even though it was still running. And then….he was sure there was more, but he found he was more interested in listening to Tseng and Vincent; they were speaking again, and he wanted to make sure it wasn’t about him.
Tseng snorted at Vincent’s expression. He released Vincent’s hands to cross his arms over his chest again and looked sternly down at his friend. “What is this going to do to your alliance with the Kisaragis? They’re not going to like this, relations were bad enough without this new ‘development’.”
Vincent sighed tiredly. “I’m not going to tell them for as long as I can. I need to take over ShinRa first and see to the financial infrastructure here first before I risk starting a war with another country.” He rubbed his hands over his face. “Just thinking about all that I have to do wears me out. Where do I begin?”
“There’s time to figure all of that out. ShinRa Pharmaceuticals is currently stuck in probate, and your lawyers are working on it. So far everything is running smoothly. That was a smart move getting those document signed, Vincent, if a risky one. I shouldn’t have doubted you.”
Vincent nodded before reaching for Cid’s hand and threading their fingers together. He squeezed the cop’s hand as he asked softly, not looking up from his lap, “What of Rufus’s office and personal quarters?”
Tseng shot Cid a quick look before he answered gently. “We left them. We thought you would want to deal with them yourself. Legally, we can’t touch anything in them until the courts close on probate, but that should be concluded in the next few days. The police searched both, of course, and removed a few things, but largely they’re still intact. There were…questions…about the blood, chains and-“ he hesitated, glancing down briefly. “…tools. I told them of ShinRa’s…perversions, but mentioned nothing of you.”
Vincent swallowed, cheeks heating up in shame before he met Tseng’s eyes. “Thank you.” He nodded and laid his head back against the pillows, shutting his eyes and squeezing Cid’s hand a little harder. “Thank you.”
Tseng reached out and stroked Vincent’s hair tenderly. “It’s over, Vincent. He can’t hurt you anymore.”
After resisting the urge to tell Tseng not to treat Vincent like a child (he resisted it only because he knew he would have done the same had Tseng not beaten him to it), Cid squeezed Vincent’s hand in return. He did not want Vincent to have to think about this now, or to have to face it all again later. Nothing he could do would stop that, of course, and in the back of his mind, he selfishly hoped that he would not be asked to accompany Vincent into that place. He did not want to see it, or see the “tools,” as Tseng termed them, that had caused Vincent so much pain. He also did not want Vincent to have to deal with it on his own if he wanted company. He made his decision then, and leaned forward to kiss the hand he was holding. From this moment on, Cid would be wherever Vincent asked him to be, regardless of how uncomfortable it made him.
A soft knocking at the door pulled them out of their silence as Dr. Bugenhagen poked his head in with a smile. “Good morning, gentlemen!”
Vincent craned his head and managed a smile back at the loyal and determined doctor. The man’s care of him had been first rate even with the unwanted attention he had received before he had been switched to this floor; it was hardly the doctor’s fault. “Good morning, doctor," he said softly.
Tseng nodded his good morning, holding out his hand, which the doctor took in a firm grip. “Doctor,” Tseng said seriously. “I was wanting to ask you about Vincent’s condition as of right now.”
Dr. Bugenhagen’s eyebrow rose and he nodded. “That’s right, you haven’t been around for me to talk to. Well,” he crossed his arms over his chest. “Right now, I’d say that he’s well out of any immediate life-threatening danger.”
“What do you mean by ‘right now’?” Tseng asked, frowning.
“Well, I took Mr. Valentine for some scans the other day and what I saw bothered me,” Dr. Bugenhagen answered tapping his chin, brow creased in thought. “When you all brought him in we had to work fast to repair as much damage as we could just to save his life, which meant that we had to leave several harder to reach bullet and bone fragments in his chest cavity. Now given his truly remarkable physiology, he’s appeared to have healed around those fragments. The bone fragments don’t concern me as much as the metal fragments do. There is one particular piece buried dangerously close to his aorta, which is why you’re experiencing such sharp chest pain when you stand up,” he said to Vincent who was watching him with an unreadable expression. “And there are several other fragments that we couldn’t get to due to their location that are putting too much strain on your lungs during exertion or heavy breathing, which in turn is making you weak as your muscles are not getting enough oxygen. I’m afraid you’ll have to undergo more surgery so we can try and remove those fragments or you may never achieve full lung capacity again. And if you exert yourself too much you are at risk of rupturing a major artery.”
“What would be considered ‘too much’, doctor?” Tseng asked, concern coloring his voice.
“Any strenuous activity,” Dr. Bugenhagen shrugged helplessly. “From running to heavy lifting to sex, it’s hard to say. So until we can get in there and remove that bullet fragment, I would suggest you take it extremely easy. I would feel more comfortable if you remained in hospital until we can perform the surgery.”
Vincent gaped at the doctor. “So just put my life on hold, is that what you’re saying? Doctor, I can’t do that.”
Dr. Bugenhagen sighed. “If you don’t, and rupture that artery, you could die.”
“Vincent,” Cid said softly, squeezing his hand again. “Let them handle things as long as it takes fer you t’heal. You won’t be no good t’anybody if y’try t’go about yer business an’ end up right back here.” It wasn’t Cid’s business, and he knew that, but someone had to state the obvious. “B’sides, you’ve needed rest like this fer longer than anybody knows. Think of it like that, an’ not as puttin’ things on hold. Maybe it ain’t yer ideal vacation, but it’s what y’need right now. Please don’t make it worse tryin’a push yerself.”
Irritated by the news, Vincent said a little harsher than he had planned, “I don’t need you lecturing me on my life, Highwind.” Then to the doctor, “I’ll attempt to ‘take it easy’, doctor, but there are things that I must attend to that cannot be ‘put off’. It is an acceptable risk.”
“Vincent,” Tseng sighed. “Don’t be difficult. Listen to Cid, he has a point. What good are you to any of us if you’re dead?”
But Vincent hadn’t heard Tseng, as something else had occurred to him, something of vital importance that he had all but forgotten about. Face pale he looked at Tseng and the doctor. “What day is it?”
“Vincent-“ Tseng began wearily.
“What day is it?” Vincent snapped savagely.
“Thursday.” Tseng blurted, startled at Vincent’s vehemence. “Why?” Then Tseng realized what Vincent was saying. “Surely you’re not thinking of leaving here, are you? Are you?” At Vincent’s resolute expression, it was Tseng’s turn to pale. “Vincent, that’s suicide.”
“Doctor,” Vincent said calmly, ignoring Tseng completely. “I need you to prepare whatever papers necessary that will facilitate my discharge tomorrow. At noon, with or without them, I will be walking out that door.”
Dr. Bugenhagen shook his head. “I cannot condone that.”
Vincent just stared, unblinking at Dr. Bugenhagen until the doctor began to fidget and twitch. Finally the man sighed in defeat. “Technically, you are fit enough to leave, but I will formaly protest and put on your discharge papers that your release is strictly against your doctor’s orders.”
“Acceptable.” Vincent said with finality.
Dr. Bugenhagen shook his head again. “But I strongly urge you to reconsider, Mr. Valentine. With your physiology, the recovery time will be negligible, it’s just a matter of days!”
But Vincent wouldn’t hear any of it. “I’m leaving. What will I need?”
Dr. Bugenhagen ground his teeth, and judging by his dark-haired friend’s expression the man wanted to throttle his patient, not that he could blame him! “Supervision,” Dr. Bugenhagen said in a tone that brooked no argument. “And I’ll send you home with oxygen, you’re going to need it. We’ll also schedule a time for you to come back for your surgery.”
“Fine.” Vincent waved his hand, sidetracked by his own thoughts. He had become more irritable as the days wore on, and he had a suspicion a lot of it had to do with his increasing state of…stink. He still had dried blood matted in his hair. “I do not suppose there is a shower that I might use?”
Dr. Bugenhagen nodded his head, very much still displeased with his patient’s stubbornness. “Across the hall and down two doors. There are towels and soap in there. I’ll call a nurse, you shouldn’t attempt to bathe alone.”
“I’ll be fine,” Vincent said quietly.
“As you wish,” Dr. Bugenhagen said a little flippantly. “I’ll just see to your discharge papers now. But I will state again how much I discourage this decision,” he said firmly before leaving without giving Vincent a chance to reply.
After the doctor left, Tseng took an aggressive step toward Vincent and hissed, “What has gotten into you?” He glared darkly down at Vincent. “Do you have any idea what all this has done to us? That you could so…carelessly risk yourself like this?”
Vincent’s returning stare was cold. “Does it look like I care, Tseng? What I have to do is beyond your comprehension and my own business, as it has always been. Do not question me.”
“Fine,” Tseng snarled. “Then I’m going with you. You heard the doctor: Supervision. You want to kill yourself, then fine, but I’m not going to let you do it without a fight.”
“Absolutely not,” Vincent snarled right back, leaning up toward Tseng in emphasis, completely unmindful of the pain that movement caused. “I’ll not expose you to that. It’s my past, my sin, my problem. Now back the hell off and drop it.”
The two men fell silent, but the tension in the room was palpable as two sets of eyes, one blood red and the other black as night and both equally stubborn, fought to knock the other down.
“Knock that th’hell off, both o’ ya,” Cid said wearily. He had, somehow, managed to make himself stay in the room throughout the drawn-out three-way debate, and even more amazingly, remained quiet despite the thoughts churning in his head. He stood and moved between them, facing Tseng first. “Don’t tell him what t’do. He ain’t yours t’command.” Almost before the words had finished leaving his mouth, he had turned to Vincent. “You ain’t mine t’command either. I ain’t gonna tell ya what t’do, mostly ‘cause I know you ain’t gonna listen to a damned thing we say. I will tell ya that I’d prefer y’play it safe, because it’s not an acceptable risk, not t’me. Losin’ you in any way ain’t acceptable. But if it’s what you wanna do…” he shrugged. “Do you remember when y’said y’wanna do right by me? This ain’t no time t’make things be about me; I know that. But if you wanna do good by me, Vincent, then let me be there. Let me be wherever you are, whenever you need support. Let it be me who makes sure that when y’do finally push yerself too far, you won’t be alone.” He paused before continuing. “You’re my whole world now, Vincent. Your past is my past, your sin is my sin, your problems are my problems. If you can’t accept that…well, you’ll make your decision t’morra. You’ll have your papers, an’ you’ll be outta here t’morra, with me or without me. I understand that, an’ I won’t try t’stop ya.” Cid placed his hand on the bed, palm up, near Vincent’s. “But please, if y’re gonna take my wants an’ needs an’ fears an’ dreams an’ sins an’ troubles onta your plate, let me have yours too.” Rejection now would sting like none ever had, Cid knew, but that was an acceptable risk when compared to the risk of Vincent's death. “You would be here for me,” he whispered.
Vincent was struck rather speechless by Cid’s lecture. He regarded the tired-looking man -and he did look exhausted- for a moment before gently placing his hand in Cid’s. “’Doing right by you’, Cid, means keeping you far, far away from the hell that was my life for ten years. I can’t let you do it either. It’s bad enough I have to keep reliving it, but you’re too good to relive it with me.” He shook his head. “No, I can’t let you do it. I’m sorry.”
Cid shook his head. “That’s not th’way it works,” he said sadly, but knew there was little he could do to change Vincent’s mind. Suddenly an idea hit him, and though he wasn’t sure where it had come from, he wasn’t questioning it. “How ‘bout this. We’ll make a deal. You wanted a shower, right? If you c’n make it through yer shower an’ come out satisfied with how clean y’are, I won’t say another word about it. If y’find y’need any help at all, y’hafta take me with ya.”
Vincent eyed Cid suspiciously for a minute as he considered the wager. It was simple enough, and he was sure he could shower on his own; all he had to do was stand there, right? If he could stand to piss, then he could stand to shower. Finally he nodded, “All right, it’s a deal. I shower on my own, I leave on my own. I yield and require help then you may come with me.”
Out of Vincent’s eyesight, Tseng smirked and looked away. This just might work. At least he hoped to Leviathan that it would.
Cid nodded and firmly shook the hand he was holding. “A deal it is.” He looked sideways at Tseng and caught a glimpse of the quickly-hidden smirk on his face. He did not smile in response as he wanted to, instead simply taking up residence in his chair again and waiting. “You wanna go now while he’s out gettin’ yer papers t’gether?”
“Probably should, I really need a shower. Would you care to wait, Tseng?” Vincent asked easing his legs over the edge of the bed with a wince.
Tseng shook his head, his easy calm back in place, as though they hadn’t nearly come to blows. “No, unfortunately I have business that needs to be taken care of. Enjoy your shower, Vincent, and be careful.” He leveled a meaningful look at Cid, nodded to them both then took his leave.