Midgar Burning Chapter 61
Title: Midgar Burning
Authors: silence_laughs and calvi_sama
Pairing: Cid x Vincent
Rating: NC-17 (eventually), most certainly R
Disclaimer: We do not in any way own, nor profit from, the characters and/or locations of FFVII, that would all be SquareEnix. Also any other references to persons or products mentioned herein are purely coincidental *coughs*, and where they are not then they belong to their respective writers, producers, directors, or other individuals/companies listed under that sneaky little thing called a "copyright".
Warnings: Adult themes, blood, some violence, language, kidnapping, torture, mentions of abuse, murder, and above all else...yaoi, the 'inappropriate to minors' kind, the 'makes us sit up past our bedtimes reading' kind, 'cause lets face it folks, it just wouldn't be the same without it! >:3
Summary: Even as Cid fights to show Vincent it’s okay to love again, Vincent’s enemies are moving in. Can Cid secure a place in Vincent’s heart before their world falls apart?
A/N: Two things folks: 1) This is an RP and 2) This fic is AU. The usual players here: silence = Cid, and all in Cid's world, and yours truly = Vincent, and all in Vin's world. Easiest way to say it. ^^ This fic is a 'novel'-form piece (ie multi-chapter) that is darker than what we normally write, and out of our comfort zone in the fact that we normally prefer to stick to canon-type stuff. But I got the idea from ani_mama 's artwork (more specifically this picture), persuaded silence to "go along with it", and it's been going 'full steam ahead' since then, and quite grown on us. We hope you all like it! Icon art provided by silk_weaver .
Note as of 7/20/2018 - Aaaaand, another chapter. I wish I could give a witty excuse like "the delay is because we needed to write more to stay ahead of posting" but I'll be honest... while technically that is true, I just kept forgetting. But better late than never, right? Here's the next one and hopefully I won't forget to post Chapter 62 for as long. That, was a terrible sentense, but I'm tired and my brain is done. >.> So, I apologize if there's anyone still reading this, I hope you enjoy.
Chapter 61
Vincent jumped as he was jerked out of his memories by the car door opening as though the man from his past had crawled out of his brain in order to sit down next to him in the car. He grinned evilly. “Hello, Reeve.”
The scrubby human sitting next to him didn’t look up. He was clutching some sort of stuffed cat in his hands as though Verdot had bodily picked him up in the middle of what he was doing and frog-marched him outside and to the car. “Vincent,” he said softly, fingers twitching on the cat. “So you’ve finally come to kill me, is that it?”
“No, Reeve, I’m not here to kill you. I’ve gotten much more satisfaction from leaving you alive with your guilt.” Vincent said, slowly spinning his cane against the floor of the sedan.
“Then what do you want… what more could you possibly do to me…” Suddenly Reeve paled as he finally looked up at Vincent. “You’re not… surely you’re not-“
“Going to do to you what you did to me?” Vincent spat. “No, I have more honor than that, Tuesti. I wouldn’t stoop to your level.”
At that Reeve cringed and seemed to shrink back against the car door. Verdot knocked hard on the glass by Reeve’s head and the man jumped, twitching nervously. “I’m sorry,” Reeve whispered, looking back down at the stuffed cat in his lap. “For what happened, what I did, I’m sorry.”
“You’re ‘sorry’.” Vincent sneered. “That’s funny, you said the same thing after you left me a come-covered mess on the floor, Reeve. Did you get off making me bleed?”
“Stop it!” Reeve cried, hands going up to cover his ears.
“Or was it me begging you to stop? Was that what got your pecker shooting its load?”
Reeve moaned and Vincent’s grin grew. Good, let him feel guilty.
“Killing you would be merciful, which would be a lot more than what I got that day. Do you know what Rufus did to me when we got back to the Tower, Reeve?” Vincent asked ruthlessly.
“Please stop,” Reeve begged. “I’m sorry!” he all but yelled.
“You got his juices really flowing, Reeve!” Vincent laughed cruelly. “He beat me, then he fucked me and then he beat me again! The only thing that got Rufus off more than sex was blood and sex… and absolute power.”
Reeve moaned again and slumped against the leather seat in defeat.
“Oh no, death does not come for you now.” Vincent murmured soberly. “Instead, I am offering you a job.”
Reeve’s head jerked up and he looked over at Vincent in sick horror. “What?!”
Vincent’s smile was cold. “I need someone to run the administrative duties of Shinra Pharmaceuticals, Reeve, and I can think of no one else who would be as loyal to me as you.”
Reeve blinked at him and spluttered a moment before me managed to get out, “You’re joking. You have to be.”
“I never joke about business.” Vincent deadpanned. “As you well know.”
“I- I can’t!” Reeve stuttered.
“Yes, Reeve, you can and you will. You owe me.” Vincent replied in a tone that gave no quarter. “Think of it this way,” he said cocking his head. “If you’re going to be miserable, you might as well be rich and miserable. What say you? Not that you really have a choice.”
Reeve seemed to wilt as he looked down at the toy in his lap. Vincent followed Reeve’s gaze and he had to admit to feeling a little bit of curiosity. He jerked his chin at the toy. “And what have you there? Children’s toys now?” He couldn’t withhold the condescending tone to his voice.
“It’s a prototype I’ve been working on for a robotic companion. It’s called Cait Sith, but I can’t get a patent on it. Ever since I turned everything over to Shinra my life’s been ruined. All of my money is gone, my status, my home, my future…” Reeve trailed off.
“Welcome to my life, Reeve.” Vincent murmured firmly. “But I’m offering you a chance at redemption. Work for me, earn my trust and erase your past. This is a one-time offer,” he said, emphasizing the phrase. He wondered if Reeve remembered it as clearly as he did. He pulled out a business card and held it out to the man.
“Why?” Reeve asked, taking the card without looking at him. “Why me?”
“Because you’ll be loyal.” Vincent said, shrugging. “And you have a head for business. If you betray me, then I will kill you, but something tells me you want more than an easy death.” He resituated himself with a wince, reaching up to rub his chest. He was in more pain than normal, but he shrugged it off. “And if you do your job, then perhaps ShinRa might finance the production of your little robotic side project. Call it incentive, if you will.”
Reeve was silent as he looked at the simple business card.
Vincent watched him a moment before sighing. “You have three days to think about it, and then the offer expires, and you really don't want it to expire, Reeve. Should you accept my offer, and I really think that you should, then call this number. I’ve left instructions with my secretary to set up a meeting. Do not come to the Tower as I cannot guarantee your safety until I can make it known that you’re coming on board. Is that understood?”
Reeve nodded and fisted the card in his hand, still not looking up. When it appeared as though nothing more was going to be said, Vincent thumped the head of his cane twice on the ceiling of the car, and Verdot opened the door, reached in and pulled Reeve out of the vehicle. He then escorted him back up to the front door of the apartment building without another word.
When Verdot got in behind the wheel, Vincent was sweating and wiping his forehead on the sleeve of his jacket. “You okay boss?” he asked, looking in the rearview mirror in concern. Vincent was so pale as to be nearly colorless, and the man’s lips were a light shade of blue.
“Yes,” Vincent said breathlessly. “I just need some oxygen, and rest… I’ll be… okay. Let’s just go.”
“If you say so,” Verdot said, still looking at Vincent as he put the car into drive and eased away from the curb.
They drove in silence then with Verdot continuing to glance into the rearview mirror every so often to check on Vincent. It wasn’t until they were halfway back to the Tower that Verdot looked in the mirror and cursed, jerking the sedan over to the shoulder and throwing it into park to a backdrop of loud honks from the irritated drivers he had had cut off in order to reach the side of the road. Turning in the driver’s seat, he leaned over the center and squeezed between the front seats in order to reach Vincent who was slumped over on his side, barely breathing.
Oh, shit! Verdot though wildly as he shook Vincent’s shoulder. This can’t be happening! “Vincent! Vincent, say something! C’mon boss, answer me!” When Vincent didn’t move or respond, Verdot reached below Vincent’s collar with two fingers to search for a pulse. He could barely feel it. “Ah fuck!” he shouted, then wriggled back into the driver’s seat, buckled himself in, threw the car into drive and floored it out into traffic to whip a U-turn… and nearly cause a five car pileup. His destination: Minerva Memorial Hospital. His eyes on the road, he dug around in his coat pocket and withdrew his cell phone. He hit 2 and then the pound sign and held it up to ear as he waited through the rings for the recipient to pick up. C’mon, c’mon, c’mon, pick up you bastard…
“Tseng,” came the crisp answer after the third ring.
Finally! “Tseng, it’s Verdot. I’m taking Vincent to Minerva Memorial, he’s collapsed.” He said as he swerved through traffic expertly, still glancing every once in a while back at Vincent through the mirror.
There were indiscernible words that sounded suspiciously like Wutaian swear words muttered over the line, then, “All right, I’ll call ahead and get them ready for you. We’ll meet you there.” The line went dead, which just as well. Verdot needed to focus on his driving. He flipped his phone shut and stuffed it back into his coat as he swore again and prayed that his boss wouldn’t die.
~Back at the Tower~
After Tseng hung up with the receptionist at the Minerva Memorial Hospital emergency room, he made his way through the halls to the elevator. He ground his teeth as he hit the Up arrow instead of the Down arrow that would take him to the level of the parking garage. Every fiber of his being was telling him that he needed to get to Vincent, but he couldn’t not get Cid first, as neither of them would ever forgive him if he didn’t. At the ding of the opening elevator doors, Tseng squeezed through before they were completely opened and repeatedly punched the button for the floors that held the apartments.
“C’mon, close damn you!” he snarled and when they finally did he began to pace while the elevator made its slow way up the flights. He had hated to excuse himself from the Wutaian entourage and had bowed and apologized profusely, stating that something unfortunate had befallen Vincent and that his presence was required immediately, but he also had been lucky in that the Wutainese had been so understanding. They had bowed in return and said that they would retire to their hotel and await Vincent’s call. After he had excused himself, Tseng had pulled out his phone and called the hospital.
Now he was all but running down the hall toward Vincent’s apartment and he pounded on the door as he skidded to a stop. As soon as Cid opened the door he said, “Get dressed, we’re going to the hospital. Vincent’s collapsed.”
Cid had spent a good portion of the day being constructive. The weekend, endless as it had seemed, had inspired him to do more than just sit around. He had asked Vincent days ago to introduce him to those number puzzles, tried them out, and found them enjoyable but not as challenging or time-consuming as he’d hoped. Still, they were something to do after he came back from the gym, which was where he had spent his mornings over nearly the past week.
Taking care of Vincent had become increasingly difficult and infuriating as the man’s health had continued its decline. Even Cid’s pleas for him to move the surgery to a nearer date had gone unheard, or at least unheeded; Vincent’s reaction had felt like little more than a pat on the head and a condescending smile. Cid had decided simply to trust Vincent to take care of that. Cid would continue making sure that Vincent stayed upright while walking and that he kept breathing while sleeping. He stayed out of business affairs unless Vincent shared them openly and kept up with Vincent’s daily schedule as well as he could, having no clue where to find some of the places his lover visited.
Overall, Cid determined that he was really not being of much help, and much thought over the weekend had inspired him to change that. Vincent didn’t need to come back after a stressful day and think about how miserable Cid must be here, and quite frankly, Cid didn’t see the point in continuing to be miserable any longer. He was going to be here whether he liked it or not- which he both did and didn’t, but that was hardly the point. There was no better time than now to start doing all those things he’d been promising himself he would do. Once he was in possession of his clothes and a few of his books and sketches, Cid had started himself on something of a routine. He would wake up early and go to the gym, and then return to the apartment to sit and read or do other equally less-than-stimulating things.
Monday, though. Monday, his trip to the gym had left him in the mood to do something that would both keep him busy and let Vincent know that Cid could do things that didn’t involve idling or moping. He had, after making that decision, turned to the bookshelf in the living room and sought out the cookbook he remembered seeing. After finding it, he brought it into the kitchen, inspected the available ingredients -Vincent really did keep the place well-stocked, that was for sure- and then turned back to the cookbook with those figures on a sheet of paper.
He found a few dishes that looked simple enough to prepare, and realized then that if he chose wisely, he could make at least a three-course meal without having to borrow things from Tseng or having to send Reno on an errand to pick up eggs. Cid selected a chicken dish that promised a full flavor with a bit of tartness. It required chicken and a few fruit things that Vincent happened to have in the refrigerator as well as one or two things that Cid couldn’t find but figured were negligible. It also required baking, but he would leave that part to Vincent.
Vincent would be home in a few hours, anyway, which was just enough time for Cid to get this done. They could relax and have the salad while the chicken cooked, and then while they were eating the chicken, dessert would be going. Cid had never known anyone who needed dessert as much as Vincent did. Cid had never bothered trying to bake, given that he was no fan of sweet things, but he figured that just this once, he could eat…cake. Cake was a reasonable enough thing. Even after mixing the breading for the chicken, Cid had enough left over to fill the recipe for a cake that looked simple.
After several long, flour-covered minutes, Cid realized that his first foray into dessert-making probably should have included mix from a box rather than from-scratch directions. Still, the batter seemed to be the consistency it should have been by the time he had finished adding and mixing everything, so he found a pan of the proper size and shape, greased it, poured in the batter, and set it in the oven on the directed temperature.
The plan to wait until they were eating dinner to begin baking the cake had been crushed when Cid realized that doing that would require him to split his attention between Vincent and the oven. A peaceful, relaxing meal together shouldn’t involve interruptions like that.
With the cake in the oven, he went back to preparing the chicken. He tried to arrange everything the way it looked in the picture, and the directions said nothing about what to do with them except to include them and to make sure the chicken maintained contact with the juice. He figured it was fine that he had substituted lemons for the called-for oranges. He was also pretty sure that he would just set all of that in the refrigerator for the time being.
The rest of the time that the cake was baking, Cid was organizing the salad. That was something that even he couldn’t ruin, since all he had to do was make sure it looked nice. He couldn’t be held responsible if it tasted strange.
Finally, once he had placed the finished salad in the refrigerator as well, the oven timer beeped, letting him know that the cake was supposed to be finished. It seemed to be the right color and everything, so Cid turned off the oven and then scouted a pair of oven mitts and removed the pan, setting it on the burner to cool.
He was just going back to the cookbook to see about frosting when someone knocked on the door.
That hardly ever happened, especially when Vincent was gone. All of Vincent’s men knew where he was, so they wouldn’t have let anyone through to see him. That meant that either Vincent had lost his key and needed Cid to let him in or someone was here to see Cid.
In the case of the former, Vincent probably would have called to him right away, and he hadn’t, so Cid assumed the latter. As he removed the mitts and brushed flour from his face, hurrying toward the door, he ran through a list of likely possibilities. At the top of the list was the one he hoped it wouldn’t be- that something had happened to Vincent.
When he opened the door, though, and saw Tseng, he knew that something had happened. The words were barely out of Tseng’s mouth before Cid was back in the kitchen, putting the cake in the fridge with the chicken and salad and then heading back to the door with only his phone and wallet in hand, locking the door behind him as he rushed Tseng to the parking garage.
“What happened?” Cid asked as he buckled himself in and waited for Tseng to get the damned car moving so he could get to Vincent. Dimly, he was grateful that Tseng had let him know that this had happened right away instead of waiting to see how it turned out, but now wasn’t the time to deal with that. He also had a feeling that Tseng may have been trying to tell him what had happened as they walked down here, but Cid’s ears had been buzzing then and he hadn’t had time to listen for worrying.
“He collapsed, Mr. Highwind, as I said.”
“Well then why th’hell are you here? Shouldn’t you’ve been with ‘im!?”
Tseng winced inwardly; of course Cid thought Vincent had been at the Tower. He was supposed to have been at the Tower, but the stubborn man- “Some urgent business had come up earlier in the day, and he was away with Verdot attending to that. I had been told to remain here to complete the deal with our guests. I only just received the call, Cid, and I’m afraid I don’t have any more information than that.”
Cid sighed and ran his hands through his hair. He had been wearing real clothes already, and hadn’t thought to change into his suit, but it hit him now that the suit was probably what Tseng had meant when he’d told Cid to get dressed.
He tried to calm himself by thinking that this had been bound to happen eventually, but…why today? Why today, when Cid had done his best to make sure he wouldn’t place any extra stress on Vincent? He was sad for a moment that his work on dinner would go to waste, but that turned immediately into a dull anger at Vincent. The man knew that he wasn’t healthy. He should have stayed where it was safer, stuck to things he could leave in order to rest, until he had healed. He knew that. He knew it for himself, and everyone had told him, over and over. There was no excuse for going against his body’s limits, and Cid would have planned to have a talk with him about it if he thought it would have done an ounce of good.
Still, Vincent wouldn’t catch Cid making any kind of meal or dessert or even a salad any time soon, no sir. Cid was quite done with that. If they kept Vincent overnight, Cid would have to return to the apartment to put everything in the freezer. Except the salad. That would spoil if he froze it. Hell, it was all going to spoil anyway.
Finally, he opened his eyes and looked out the window, and realized that he was obsessing over those things to keep himself from worrying about Vincent. It was doing a damned good job of distracting him, so he kept it up, running a list of the ingredients and steps he had gone through and seething individually for each of them.
“Why’s he so goddam stubborn?” Cid spat rhetorically, looking out the windshield at the approaching hospital.
Tseng said nothing, but noted with idle horror that when it came to Vincent, he and Cid had some very similar thoughts. He drove into the parking lot and parked the vehicle in one of the closest spots he could find.
Cid was out the door before the wheels had stopped turning, and was in the first floor lobby examining a sign to try to figure out where Vincent was when Tseng entered behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder, tilting his head and then steering them in the proper direction.
Tseng sighed as he walked Cid towards the emergency room waiting area. He knew he had arrived at the right place when he saw Verdot pacing in front of the receptionist’s desk. The man looked worried, which caused Tseng’s concern to spike alarmingly. Verdot never got worried. As soon as Verdot saw them, he seemed to relax and immediately came forward to take Tseng’s arm and draw them away from the receptionist’s desk.
“What happened?” Tseng asked, his voice low and severe.
“I dunno,” Verdot said crossing his arms, his eyes darting around the small waiting room that they had seen way too much of in Tseng’s opinion. “I was drivin’ him back from Sector Seven and he didn’t look right. He was too pale, and his lips were this strange bluish color. When I asked him about it, he had just said that he needed oxygen and rest, but that he’d be fine. You know how he is! I didn’t wanna push and make him mad so I just started back to the Tower.”
Tseng nodded and rubbed his forehead. Oh, he knew how Vincent was all right. The man was infuriating. “Go on.”
“Well, I kept checking in the rearview mirror, and he was just… zoning out and breathing real funny ‘n rubbing his chest. One minute he was sitting up and the next he was slumped over on the seat. I pulled over and checked his vitals, but he was barely breathing and I almost couldn’t find his pulse. That was when I called you and came here.” Verdot said rubbing his eyes. The strain was evident on his scarred face and there was a defeated slump to his shoulders. “They were ready for him and when I pulled up they got him out of the car, onto a stretcher and they told me to park the car and wait here for the doctor. That’s it.”
“Oh Leviathan,” Tseng sighed and looked at the ceiling. If it wasn’t one thing is was another. “Well, we have no choice but to wait, might as well get comfortable. I’ll call the others and let them know what’s going on.”
He sounded a lot more confident and in control than he felt. Right now, he wanted to scream and hit something, pace the halls and demand to talk to a doctor right at that moment, but he knew that wouldn’t go over very well at all. So he stepped away from Cid and Verdot and called Reno.
Cid’s heart sank as Verdot told them all he knew. Not at all set at ease, he wandered to the nearby chairs and sat, hoping that Vincent would be all right and wishing he could do something other than just sit. He hadn’t even thought to bring Domino.
Authors: silence_laughs and calvi_sama
Pairing: Cid x Vincent
Rating: NC-17 (eventually), most certainly R
Disclaimer: We do not in any way own, nor profit from, the characters and/or locations of FFVII, that would all be SquareEnix. Also any other references to persons or products mentioned herein are purely coincidental *coughs*, and where they are not then they belong to their respective writers, producers, directors, or other individuals/companies listed under that sneaky little thing called a "copyright".
Warnings: Adult themes, blood, some violence, language, kidnapping, torture, mentions of abuse, murder, and above all else...yaoi, the 'inappropriate to minors' kind, the 'makes us sit up past our bedtimes reading' kind, 'cause lets face it folks, it just wouldn't be the same without it! >:3
Summary: Even as Cid fights to show Vincent it’s okay to love again, Vincent’s enemies are moving in. Can Cid secure a place in Vincent’s heart before their world falls apart?
A/N: Two things folks: 1) This is an RP and 2) This fic is AU. The usual players here: silence = Cid, and all in Cid's world, and yours truly = Vincent, and all in Vin's world. Easiest way to say it. ^^ This fic is a 'novel'-form piece (ie multi-chapter) that is darker than what we normally write, and out of our comfort zone in the fact that we normally prefer to stick to canon-type stuff. But I got the idea from ani_mama 's artwork (more specifically this picture), persuaded silence to "go along with it", and it's been going 'full steam ahead' since then, and quite grown on us. We hope you all like it! Icon art provided by silk_weaver .
Note as of 7/20/2018 - Aaaaand, another chapter. I wish I could give a witty excuse like "the delay is because we needed to write more to stay ahead of posting" but I'll be honest... while technically that is true, I just kept forgetting. But better late than never, right? Here's the next one and hopefully I won't forget to post Chapter 62 for as long. That, was a terrible sentense, but I'm tired and my brain is done. >.> So, I apologize if there's anyone still reading this, I hope you enjoy.
Chapter 61
Vincent jumped as he was jerked out of his memories by the car door opening as though the man from his past had crawled out of his brain in order to sit down next to him in the car. He grinned evilly. “Hello, Reeve.”
The scrubby human sitting next to him didn’t look up. He was clutching some sort of stuffed cat in his hands as though Verdot had bodily picked him up in the middle of what he was doing and frog-marched him outside and to the car. “Vincent,” he said softly, fingers twitching on the cat. “So you’ve finally come to kill me, is that it?”
“No, Reeve, I’m not here to kill you. I’ve gotten much more satisfaction from leaving you alive with your guilt.” Vincent said, slowly spinning his cane against the floor of the sedan.
“Then what do you want… what more could you possibly do to me…” Suddenly Reeve paled as he finally looked up at Vincent. “You’re not… surely you’re not-“
“Going to do to you what you did to me?” Vincent spat. “No, I have more honor than that, Tuesti. I wouldn’t stoop to your level.”
At that Reeve cringed and seemed to shrink back against the car door. Verdot knocked hard on the glass by Reeve’s head and the man jumped, twitching nervously. “I’m sorry,” Reeve whispered, looking back down at the stuffed cat in his lap. “For what happened, what I did, I’m sorry.”
“You’re ‘sorry’.” Vincent sneered. “That’s funny, you said the same thing after you left me a come-covered mess on the floor, Reeve. Did you get off making me bleed?”
“Stop it!” Reeve cried, hands going up to cover his ears.
“Or was it me begging you to stop? Was that what got your pecker shooting its load?”
Reeve moaned and Vincent’s grin grew. Good, let him feel guilty.
“Killing you would be merciful, which would be a lot more than what I got that day. Do you know what Rufus did to me when we got back to the Tower, Reeve?” Vincent asked ruthlessly.
“Please stop,” Reeve begged. “I’m sorry!” he all but yelled.
“You got his juices really flowing, Reeve!” Vincent laughed cruelly. “He beat me, then he fucked me and then he beat me again! The only thing that got Rufus off more than sex was blood and sex… and absolute power.”
Reeve moaned again and slumped against the leather seat in defeat.
“Oh no, death does not come for you now.” Vincent murmured soberly. “Instead, I am offering you a job.”
Reeve’s head jerked up and he looked over at Vincent in sick horror. “What?!”
Vincent’s smile was cold. “I need someone to run the administrative duties of Shinra Pharmaceuticals, Reeve, and I can think of no one else who would be as loyal to me as you.”
Reeve blinked at him and spluttered a moment before me managed to get out, “You’re joking. You have to be.”
“I never joke about business.” Vincent deadpanned. “As you well know.”
“I- I can’t!” Reeve stuttered.
“Yes, Reeve, you can and you will. You owe me.” Vincent replied in a tone that gave no quarter. “Think of it this way,” he said cocking his head. “If you’re going to be miserable, you might as well be rich and miserable. What say you? Not that you really have a choice.”
Reeve seemed to wilt as he looked down at the toy in his lap. Vincent followed Reeve’s gaze and he had to admit to feeling a little bit of curiosity. He jerked his chin at the toy. “And what have you there? Children’s toys now?” He couldn’t withhold the condescending tone to his voice.
“It’s a prototype I’ve been working on for a robotic companion. It’s called Cait Sith, but I can’t get a patent on it. Ever since I turned everything over to Shinra my life’s been ruined. All of my money is gone, my status, my home, my future…” Reeve trailed off.
“Welcome to my life, Reeve.” Vincent murmured firmly. “But I’m offering you a chance at redemption. Work for me, earn my trust and erase your past. This is a one-time offer,” he said, emphasizing the phrase. He wondered if Reeve remembered it as clearly as he did. He pulled out a business card and held it out to the man.
“Why?” Reeve asked, taking the card without looking at him. “Why me?”
“Because you’ll be loyal.” Vincent said, shrugging. “And you have a head for business. If you betray me, then I will kill you, but something tells me you want more than an easy death.” He resituated himself with a wince, reaching up to rub his chest. He was in more pain than normal, but he shrugged it off. “And if you do your job, then perhaps ShinRa might finance the production of your little robotic side project. Call it incentive, if you will.”
Reeve was silent as he looked at the simple business card.
Vincent watched him a moment before sighing. “You have three days to think about it, and then the offer expires, and you really don't want it to expire, Reeve. Should you accept my offer, and I really think that you should, then call this number. I’ve left instructions with my secretary to set up a meeting. Do not come to the Tower as I cannot guarantee your safety until I can make it known that you’re coming on board. Is that understood?”
Reeve nodded and fisted the card in his hand, still not looking up. When it appeared as though nothing more was going to be said, Vincent thumped the head of his cane twice on the ceiling of the car, and Verdot opened the door, reached in and pulled Reeve out of the vehicle. He then escorted him back up to the front door of the apartment building without another word.
When Verdot got in behind the wheel, Vincent was sweating and wiping his forehead on the sleeve of his jacket. “You okay boss?” he asked, looking in the rearview mirror in concern. Vincent was so pale as to be nearly colorless, and the man’s lips were a light shade of blue.
“Yes,” Vincent said breathlessly. “I just need some oxygen, and rest… I’ll be… okay. Let’s just go.”
“If you say so,” Verdot said, still looking at Vincent as he put the car into drive and eased away from the curb.
They drove in silence then with Verdot continuing to glance into the rearview mirror every so often to check on Vincent. It wasn’t until they were halfway back to the Tower that Verdot looked in the mirror and cursed, jerking the sedan over to the shoulder and throwing it into park to a backdrop of loud honks from the irritated drivers he had had cut off in order to reach the side of the road. Turning in the driver’s seat, he leaned over the center and squeezed between the front seats in order to reach Vincent who was slumped over on his side, barely breathing.
Oh, shit! Verdot though wildly as he shook Vincent’s shoulder. This can’t be happening! “Vincent! Vincent, say something! C’mon boss, answer me!” When Vincent didn’t move or respond, Verdot reached below Vincent’s collar with two fingers to search for a pulse. He could barely feel it. “Ah fuck!” he shouted, then wriggled back into the driver’s seat, buckled himself in, threw the car into drive and floored it out into traffic to whip a U-turn… and nearly cause a five car pileup. His destination: Minerva Memorial Hospital. His eyes on the road, he dug around in his coat pocket and withdrew his cell phone. He hit 2 and then the pound sign and held it up to ear as he waited through the rings for the recipient to pick up. C’mon, c’mon, c’mon, pick up you bastard…
“Tseng,” came the crisp answer after the third ring.
Finally! “Tseng, it’s Verdot. I’m taking Vincent to Minerva Memorial, he’s collapsed.” He said as he swerved through traffic expertly, still glancing every once in a while back at Vincent through the mirror.
There were indiscernible words that sounded suspiciously like Wutaian swear words muttered over the line, then, “All right, I’ll call ahead and get them ready for you. We’ll meet you there.” The line went dead, which just as well. Verdot needed to focus on his driving. He flipped his phone shut and stuffed it back into his coat as he swore again and prayed that his boss wouldn’t die.
~Back at the Tower~
After Tseng hung up with the receptionist at the Minerva Memorial Hospital emergency room, he made his way through the halls to the elevator. He ground his teeth as he hit the Up arrow instead of the Down arrow that would take him to the level of the parking garage. Every fiber of his being was telling him that he needed to get to Vincent, but he couldn’t not get Cid first, as neither of them would ever forgive him if he didn’t. At the ding of the opening elevator doors, Tseng squeezed through before they were completely opened and repeatedly punched the button for the floors that held the apartments.
“C’mon, close damn you!” he snarled and when they finally did he began to pace while the elevator made its slow way up the flights. He had hated to excuse himself from the Wutaian entourage and had bowed and apologized profusely, stating that something unfortunate had befallen Vincent and that his presence was required immediately, but he also had been lucky in that the Wutainese had been so understanding. They had bowed in return and said that they would retire to their hotel and await Vincent’s call. After he had excused himself, Tseng had pulled out his phone and called the hospital.
Now he was all but running down the hall toward Vincent’s apartment and he pounded on the door as he skidded to a stop. As soon as Cid opened the door he said, “Get dressed, we’re going to the hospital. Vincent’s collapsed.”
Cid had spent a good portion of the day being constructive. The weekend, endless as it had seemed, had inspired him to do more than just sit around. He had asked Vincent days ago to introduce him to those number puzzles, tried them out, and found them enjoyable but not as challenging or time-consuming as he’d hoped. Still, they were something to do after he came back from the gym, which was where he had spent his mornings over nearly the past week.
Taking care of Vincent had become increasingly difficult and infuriating as the man’s health had continued its decline. Even Cid’s pleas for him to move the surgery to a nearer date had gone unheard, or at least unheeded; Vincent’s reaction had felt like little more than a pat on the head and a condescending smile. Cid had decided simply to trust Vincent to take care of that. Cid would continue making sure that Vincent stayed upright while walking and that he kept breathing while sleeping. He stayed out of business affairs unless Vincent shared them openly and kept up with Vincent’s daily schedule as well as he could, having no clue where to find some of the places his lover visited.
Overall, Cid determined that he was really not being of much help, and much thought over the weekend had inspired him to change that. Vincent didn’t need to come back after a stressful day and think about how miserable Cid must be here, and quite frankly, Cid didn’t see the point in continuing to be miserable any longer. He was going to be here whether he liked it or not- which he both did and didn’t, but that was hardly the point. There was no better time than now to start doing all those things he’d been promising himself he would do. Once he was in possession of his clothes and a few of his books and sketches, Cid had started himself on something of a routine. He would wake up early and go to the gym, and then return to the apartment to sit and read or do other equally less-than-stimulating things.
Monday, though. Monday, his trip to the gym had left him in the mood to do something that would both keep him busy and let Vincent know that Cid could do things that didn’t involve idling or moping. He had, after making that decision, turned to the bookshelf in the living room and sought out the cookbook he remembered seeing. After finding it, he brought it into the kitchen, inspected the available ingredients -Vincent really did keep the place well-stocked, that was for sure- and then turned back to the cookbook with those figures on a sheet of paper.
He found a few dishes that looked simple enough to prepare, and realized then that if he chose wisely, he could make at least a three-course meal without having to borrow things from Tseng or having to send Reno on an errand to pick up eggs. Cid selected a chicken dish that promised a full flavor with a bit of tartness. It required chicken and a few fruit things that Vincent happened to have in the refrigerator as well as one or two things that Cid couldn’t find but figured were negligible. It also required baking, but he would leave that part to Vincent.
Vincent would be home in a few hours, anyway, which was just enough time for Cid to get this done. They could relax and have the salad while the chicken cooked, and then while they were eating the chicken, dessert would be going. Cid had never known anyone who needed dessert as much as Vincent did. Cid had never bothered trying to bake, given that he was no fan of sweet things, but he figured that just this once, he could eat…cake. Cake was a reasonable enough thing. Even after mixing the breading for the chicken, Cid had enough left over to fill the recipe for a cake that looked simple.
After several long, flour-covered minutes, Cid realized that his first foray into dessert-making probably should have included mix from a box rather than from-scratch directions. Still, the batter seemed to be the consistency it should have been by the time he had finished adding and mixing everything, so he found a pan of the proper size and shape, greased it, poured in the batter, and set it in the oven on the directed temperature.
The plan to wait until they were eating dinner to begin baking the cake had been crushed when Cid realized that doing that would require him to split his attention between Vincent and the oven. A peaceful, relaxing meal together shouldn’t involve interruptions like that.
With the cake in the oven, he went back to preparing the chicken. He tried to arrange everything the way it looked in the picture, and the directions said nothing about what to do with them except to include them and to make sure the chicken maintained contact with the juice. He figured it was fine that he had substituted lemons for the called-for oranges. He was also pretty sure that he would just set all of that in the refrigerator for the time being.
The rest of the time that the cake was baking, Cid was organizing the salad. That was something that even he couldn’t ruin, since all he had to do was make sure it looked nice. He couldn’t be held responsible if it tasted strange.
Finally, once he had placed the finished salad in the refrigerator as well, the oven timer beeped, letting him know that the cake was supposed to be finished. It seemed to be the right color and everything, so Cid turned off the oven and then scouted a pair of oven mitts and removed the pan, setting it on the burner to cool.
He was just going back to the cookbook to see about frosting when someone knocked on the door.
That hardly ever happened, especially when Vincent was gone. All of Vincent’s men knew where he was, so they wouldn’t have let anyone through to see him. That meant that either Vincent had lost his key and needed Cid to let him in or someone was here to see Cid.
In the case of the former, Vincent probably would have called to him right away, and he hadn’t, so Cid assumed the latter. As he removed the mitts and brushed flour from his face, hurrying toward the door, he ran through a list of likely possibilities. At the top of the list was the one he hoped it wouldn’t be- that something had happened to Vincent.
When he opened the door, though, and saw Tseng, he knew that something had happened. The words were barely out of Tseng’s mouth before Cid was back in the kitchen, putting the cake in the fridge with the chicken and salad and then heading back to the door with only his phone and wallet in hand, locking the door behind him as he rushed Tseng to the parking garage.
“What happened?” Cid asked as he buckled himself in and waited for Tseng to get the damned car moving so he could get to Vincent. Dimly, he was grateful that Tseng had let him know that this had happened right away instead of waiting to see how it turned out, but now wasn’t the time to deal with that. He also had a feeling that Tseng may have been trying to tell him what had happened as they walked down here, but Cid’s ears had been buzzing then and he hadn’t had time to listen for worrying.
“He collapsed, Mr. Highwind, as I said.”
“Well then why th’hell are you here? Shouldn’t you’ve been with ‘im!?”
Tseng winced inwardly; of course Cid thought Vincent had been at the Tower. He was supposed to have been at the Tower, but the stubborn man- “Some urgent business had come up earlier in the day, and he was away with Verdot attending to that. I had been told to remain here to complete the deal with our guests. I only just received the call, Cid, and I’m afraid I don’t have any more information than that.”
Cid sighed and ran his hands through his hair. He had been wearing real clothes already, and hadn’t thought to change into his suit, but it hit him now that the suit was probably what Tseng had meant when he’d told Cid to get dressed.
He tried to calm himself by thinking that this had been bound to happen eventually, but…why today? Why today, when Cid had done his best to make sure he wouldn’t place any extra stress on Vincent? He was sad for a moment that his work on dinner would go to waste, but that turned immediately into a dull anger at Vincent. The man knew that he wasn’t healthy. He should have stayed where it was safer, stuck to things he could leave in order to rest, until he had healed. He knew that. He knew it for himself, and everyone had told him, over and over. There was no excuse for going against his body’s limits, and Cid would have planned to have a talk with him about it if he thought it would have done an ounce of good.
Still, Vincent wouldn’t catch Cid making any kind of meal or dessert or even a salad any time soon, no sir. Cid was quite done with that. If they kept Vincent overnight, Cid would have to return to the apartment to put everything in the freezer. Except the salad. That would spoil if he froze it. Hell, it was all going to spoil anyway.
Finally, he opened his eyes and looked out the window, and realized that he was obsessing over those things to keep himself from worrying about Vincent. It was doing a damned good job of distracting him, so he kept it up, running a list of the ingredients and steps he had gone through and seething individually for each of them.
“Why’s he so goddam stubborn?” Cid spat rhetorically, looking out the windshield at the approaching hospital.
Tseng said nothing, but noted with idle horror that when it came to Vincent, he and Cid had some very similar thoughts. He drove into the parking lot and parked the vehicle in one of the closest spots he could find.
Cid was out the door before the wheels had stopped turning, and was in the first floor lobby examining a sign to try to figure out where Vincent was when Tseng entered behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder, tilting his head and then steering them in the proper direction.
Tseng sighed as he walked Cid towards the emergency room waiting area. He knew he had arrived at the right place when he saw Verdot pacing in front of the receptionist’s desk. The man looked worried, which caused Tseng’s concern to spike alarmingly. Verdot never got worried. As soon as Verdot saw them, he seemed to relax and immediately came forward to take Tseng’s arm and draw them away from the receptionist’s desk.
“What happened?” Tseng asked, his voice low and severe.
“I dunno,” Verdot said crossing his arms, his eyes darting around the small waiting room that they had seen way too much of in Tseng’s opinion. “I was drivin’ him back from Sector Seven and he didn’t look right. He was too pale, and his lips were this strange bluish color. When I asked him about it, he had just said that he needed oxygen and rest, but that he’d be fine. You know how he is! I didn’t wanna push and make him mad so I just started back to the Tower.”
Tseng nodded and rubbed his forehead. Oh, he knew how Vincent was all right. The man was infuriating. “Go on.”
“Well, I kept checking in the rearview mirror, and he was just… zoning out and breathing real funny ‘n rubbing his chest. One minute he was sitting up and the next he was slumped over on the seat. I pulled over and checked his vitals, but he was barely breathing and I almost couldn’t find his pulse. That was when I called you and came here.” Verdot said rubbing his eyes. The strain was evident on his scarred face and there was a defeated slump to his shoulders. “They were ready for him and when I pulled up they got him out of the car, onto a stretcher and they told me to park the car and wait here for the doctor. That’s it.”
“Oh Leviathan,” Tseng sighed and looked at the ceiling. If it wasn’t one thing is was another. “Well, we have no choice but to wait, might as well get comfortable. I’ll call the others and let them know what’s going on.”
He sounded a lot more confident and in control than he felt. Right now, he wanted to scream and hit something, pace the halls and demand to talk to a doctor right at that moment, but he knew that wouldn’t go over very well at all. So he stepped away from Cid and Verdot and called Reno.
Cid’s heart sank as Verdot told them all he knew. Not at all set at ease, he wandered to the nearby chairs and sat, hoping that Vincent would be all right and wishing he could do something other than just sit. He hadn’t even thought to bring Domino.