Vincent didn't wonder where he was as he struggled to open too heavy eyelids, deadened with induced sleep. Elira's scent was strong in his nostrils, tinged with the smell of the forge that drifted up from the shop. He was in her apartment. He moved his right arm, wanting to feel out the soft surface he was on. His hand bumped into a corrugated material beside him and he ran his fingers along it. The back of the couch in her living room, he recognized.
Trembling, warm, and tender. Fingertips met his gloved ones hesitantly, gently. Instinctively, he pulled his hand away. His eyelids slid upward as if by themselves and he found himself staring at a stucco design on the ceiling. He glanced around and found her, perched on the arm of the sofa by his feet with one hand still outstretched along the back of the couch. The evening light filtering between the buildings of Neo-Midgar shone quietly through her balcony window, colouring everything in mellow orange hues. Her curls blazed suddenly as she cocked her head, looking at him intently, and he winced at the sheen. No lights were on, though, and he silently thanked her for remembering how the light had hurt his eyes before.
The left side of her face glowed softly as if lit from within. Her expression, half hidden in shadow, was one of relieved curiousity. But she said nothing. He wondered how long she had been sitting in silence this way, just watching him, waiting for him to wake. He had to have been out for a few hours, he thought, acknowledging in the back of his mind the potency difference between the pills and the dart.
She was moving, standing from the arm of the sofa to come and crouch beside him. Almost fearing that she intended to touch him, he pushed himself slowly into a sitting position and slid his legs over the edge of the couch until his feet were on the carpet. His boots were gone, he realized, feeling the cool of the floor covering through the material of his socks. He was a little dizzy and allowed himself a few moments to gain his balance. He could feel Elira's eyes on him still and he glanced at her. She smiled a little.
"How do you feel?"
"As if someone had shot me with a dart full of sedatives."
Elira's smile widened. Vincent felt something lift within him at her amusement but kept his expression carefully neutral.
"I've been practicing," Elira explained, "in the park."
Vincent raised an eyebrow, but didn't reply. Elira scowled though her grin.
"Don't look at me that way. Aren't I allowed to learn to shoot a gun without you?"
Vincent nodded once. "You are. And I am glad you took the time to teach yourself."
Elira's grin became a shy smile and she lowered her face for a moment. And then she raised her head again, meeting his eyes confidently. "Now we're even," she stated firmly. "You saved my life on the train, and I saved yours today." She frowned a little after a moment. "Wait, I still owe you one for saving me in front of the museum, too."
Vincent shook his head soberly. "No, you owe me nothing. You saved me worthy of two deaths, perhaps more. The thought of being taken away to be analyzed and probed was..." He hesitated for a moment, considering the admission he was about to give. He found it interesting to note how easy it was to talk to this woman when she was listening so attentively. "...frightening for me."
Elira lowered her eyes and Vincent thought he detected a blush beneath the sunset tint on her cheeks. Feeling a little uncomfortable at having drawn this reaction from her, he stood from the couch. He didn't often express gratitude; he found it difficult to voice. Her blush only made him that much more uneasy about it. She called their involvement together 'friendship', and he was willing to say that it was. He just wasn't willing to feel that it was. He'd allowed a friendship with Lucrecia, and thus had been in a bad position to stop the feelings that had followed close behind. He didn't want to risk falling into that trap again. Besides, he didn't need a friend. What he needed what someone he could trust who would understand him enough to respect him and his wishes. Elira was that someone. But he would only allow her in so far.
That way, if anything unfortunate was to happen, he wouldn't have to deal with any of the painful emotional baggage. Perhaps Elira was willing to risk herself on that level, but he was not. Not again.
Vincent took a step away from the couch, heading in the direction of the door, guessing that Elira had placed his boots by her closet. As he took a second step, he heard Elira ask, "Where are you going?"
Vincent turned his head and spoke over his shoulder. "To the forge. I assume by the fact that it is only sunset that it is not yet closing time."
Elira stood. "You don't work there anymore, Vincent."
Vincent pivoted to face her in confusion. "You've fired me?" he inquired skeptically.
Elira shook her head. "I let you go. And I let myself go. While you were unconscious, I did up the paperwork and sold the shop to Benita for...well, a lot less than it's worth, but it's still enough gil to get us by."
Vincent frowned, feeling as if he was looking at a puzzle that had half of the pieces missing. "What do you mean you've sold the shop? Why...?" He narrowed his eyes as a new piece suddenly fell into place. "What did the runes say?"
Elira smiled. "Benita was right, you are sharp. I can't remember the translation word for word, but it talked about a power greater than any demon. This power enabled the wielder to imprison a creature summoned by an evil force, or something. I'm guessing it was referring to Jenova. And it talked about a city that I think is the abandoned City of the Ancients. I was thinking that if we went there, we might be able to..."
Vincent took a step in her direction, frowning. "We?"
Elira's face went blank. "Well...yes. Yes, both of us. We could go to the City of the Ancients and see if there's something there that can help you. Because if that power that was able to stop Jenova two thousand years ago is still available, we might be able to use it to get rid of Chaos. "
Vincent was shaking his head in bewilderment. She'd sold the shop she'd inherited from the gunsmith to one of her employees so that she could accompany an unpredictable curiosity of a man on a potentially dangerous trip that quite possibly would end up being a wild goose chase. "No, Elira. We are not going."
Elira scoffed a little in frustration. "Well, you can't stay in Neo-Midgar. Terry will track you down no matter which sector you move to. Once he gets his mind on something, it's harder than anything to sidetrack him. And besides, I saw that eviction notice on your apartment door. How long do you have to move out? A week? You've got nowhere to stay."
Vincent was massaging his forehead beneath the bandana in agitation. She spoke the truth, and, again, he had no argument against her logic. He sighed. "Then I will leave Neo-Midgar and perhaps I will travel to the City of the Ancients, but you are not accompanying me."
Elira did not begin to yell a retort as Vincent had expected, but merely crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. "What happens if you transform unexpectedly while your on your way, Vincent?" she demanded resolutely. "Will you just stick a tranquilizer dart in your arm and leave yourself unguarded against whoever or whatever might find you? I guess you'll have to because I doubt Chaos will be very reasonable once it realizes where you're going and why you're going there."
Vincent clenched his teeth, frowning in irritation at the sense she was making. Indeed, if he did decide to go to the City of the Ancients to investigate this information, Chaos would most certainly find out. And it would not be pleased with the course of action. It would probably begin trying to stop him. And Vincent knew already that he would not be able to control it alone. He would need someone to administer the drug, and then to guard his prone form until he awoke.
Elira blinked a few times, as if holding back angry tears. "And do you really want to throw away the...the connection we have? Are you really willing to leave it behind now that you've found it? I know I'm not going to let it go without a fight."
Vincent felt his frown lessen. Sighing, he closed his eyes. He didn't want to hurt her. He didn't want to hurt anyone. Not anymore. He just wanted to rejoin the human race, to live out the rest of his life as a part of what he had once been. He wanted to show fate that he could survive the burden. Perhaps then he would be allowed forgiveness for everything he had done.
He didn't want to leave behind what he had found in Elira, he realized. It was a difficult task to find a soulmate, and he did not want to have to conduct another search. So, maybe he would allow her to come, but only until things became bad. Then, he would escape her. He would rather live with the loneliness he'd grown so accustomed to before she'd appeared than live with the knowledge that he'd killed her.
Vincent turned again and started for the hallway. Elira pursued him and grabbed him by the arm. He pulled away and faced her. She looked about ready to say something, but he spoke first, his voice quiet.
"Come. If you were planning to start this trip tomorrow morning, we had better collect the needed supplies tonight."
Elira blinked once in silence before grinning suddenly. She looked ready to embrace him, but she restrained herself, content just to smile. And then she glanced down, digging something out of a pocket. It was a folded piece of paper. She spent a moment opening it before handing it to Vincent. He gave it cursory glance as she explained it.
"That's a list I've composed of all of the things I figured we'd need. I'm sorry that I did all of this while you were asleep, and that I sprung it on you like I did. I just didn't want to waste any time and I assumed that you would want to start soon, too. Tonight, you'll have to pack your clothes and things when you go back to your apartment, and I'll pack my things so we're both ready."
Vincent nodded and handed the list back to her. As he stepped into his boots and Elira slipped into her sneakers, he asked, "How much did you receive from Benita for the store?"
Elira shrugged. "It'll be enough."
Vincent wondered, but said nothing more as he opened the door to her apartment, preceding her down the stairs and through the forge.
Once outside of the store, in the deepening darkness of the evening, Elira stopped and turned to Vincent. "Okay, I called the Virna Market; it's just around the corner. They've put aside some food for us. All I need is for you to go pay for it and then to meet me at the outfitter's shop that's about a block down from the train station."
Vincent nodded and held out his hand as Elira fished some gil out of her pocket. Once he had enough to cover the bill, he dropped it into one of the deep pockets of his coat and started making his way down the sidewalk toward the corner. Before he had taken half a dozen steps, however, Elira called his name. He turned.
Elira smiled and then, after a moment, shook her head. "Nothing. See you in a few minutes."
Vincent nodded again and, pivoting on his heel, continued walking.
The shop Elira had been talking about was a squat, mud-coloured building that looked as if it had been around for a couple of years. Vincent pushed through the door and into the quiet front room. His eyes missed little as he surveyed the small chamber, lingering especially on the girthy, balding man standing behind the counter, tallying rolls of assorted coin in preparation for closing. When the man glanced up, he started, dropping a couple of the rolls. One fell from the counter with a thunk. Vincent approached and stooped to pick it up, putting it back where it had dropped from. The man muttered a barely audible, "Thank you." And then he cleared his throat.
"Didn't hear you come in."
"You should get a bell for your door," Vincent suggested.
"Hmm?" the man asked, looking up again from the coin he was gathering to put away in a drawer behind the desk.
"A bell, over the door so that it will ring when a customer enters."
"Hmm. Oh. That's a good idea. I should." The man finished locking up the rolled gil and smiled at Vincent, making pudgy cheeks even pudgier and almond eyes even thinner. "Now, what can I do for you, son?"
Vincent came right up to the counter. "I'm here to pick up an order for Elira Maddison."
"Hmm, oh yes. She said she was sending someone by. Your name?"
"Vincent Valentine."
"Hmm, yep. That's who she said would be coming by. Well, the bags are right here behind the counter." The man bent down and retrieved them, setting the two of them on the counter where the coins had been only moments before. Vincent began looking through them, feeling the man's gaze on him.
"There's an eye colour you don't see often," the man said suddenly. Vincent glanced up at him at the remark. The man cleared his throat again and moved over to the register. "Red, I mean. I've never seen anyone with red eyes."
Vincent stopped his inspection of the groceries and took a step toward the register. "We'll only need one of the bags," he stated solemnly.
The man smiled faintly. "Hmm, well, Elira said that she was going to need enough for two people..."
"We'll only need one of the bags," Vincent repeated. And then he pulled out the gil and, counting out half of what Elira had given him, gave it to the man. Picking up one of the bags from the counter, he turned and left through the door as silently as he had entered, leaving the grocer to stand mutely behind the register, a small heap of gil in one hand. A moment later, the man was shaking his head as he deposited the cash.
"Weird," he muttered to himself. He sighed and unlocked the drawer beneath the counter to begin adding up the rolls of coin once again.
Elira sighed through her nose and did the calculations once more in her head. But she wasn't wrong; math had always been one of her strong subjects. She didn't have enough gil for everything she expected they would need along the way. She was just beginning to go through the list, trying to decide what she could omit, when Vincent arrived with the groceries. She beckoned him over to where she stood by the rows of hunting jackets and he approached, his steps falling noiselessly to the floor.
"I don't have enough," she reported quietly.
Instead of replying, Vincent reached his right hand into a pocket and pulled out a wad of gil. He then held it out for her to take. And take it she did, cupping her hands so that he could drop the coins into her palms. She glanced up in a little confusion. "What's this?"
"The change," Vincent answered simply.
Elira frowned. "There shouldn't have been any change. I thought I counted right."
Vincent shrugged a little.
Elira merely pursed her lips as she combined the additional gil with what she already had. To find that she now had enough, plus a little extra. Smiling, she lifted her face to look at Vincent. "Nevermind, the problem seems to have solved itself." With a wink, she added, "Maybe fate's on our side now."
Vincent said nothing.
Elira purchased two collapsible waterproof tents, two sleeping bags, and a knapsack for Vincent. And then she picked out two hunting knives, going largely on what she had heard some of her customers describe as what was the best kind of a blade to use, a simple compass, a map of the area, a first aid kit, and a few cartridges of tranquilizer projectiles. With a small sigh, she slipped the remaining gil into her coat pocket. And then she turned to Vincent, handing his newly acquired gear to him.
"We have to decide how to divide this up. Keep in mind, we'll each be carrying our own sleeping bag, tent, and knapsacks with us."
"I'll carry the food supplies," Vincent offered. And then, with that settled, he turned and left the store. Elira watched him leave with a half-frown on her face. She had been referring primarily to the food supplies when she'd talked of dividing the load. Oh well. If he wanted to carry it all, it was his choice. That left her with the directional tools, the first aid, and the tranquilizer gun and darts. Except for the gun, not a heavy load.
Elira attached the sleeping roll to the tent, and then slid the portable tent's straps around her shoulders. And she was suddenly glad Vincent was carrying the food. The weight was a little more than she had expected. Hefting the burden until it was resting comfortably, she made her way out of the store and back to her apartment.
Later, after stacking everything by the closet doors, she went to stand on her balcony in the cool night air. The stars were dimly visible in the blackness that was slowly taking over the sunset. Elira smiled slightly at the idea of seeing those stars without the lights of Neo-Midgar around.
It had been four years since she'd been outside of the city; the last time had been when she and Eagan had taken a car from Kalm to their married home. She frowned a little, realizing that this trip would be much different. Neither she nor Vincent owned a vehicle and chocobos would be more than difficult to find within Neo-Midgar. They would be walking. In the dark. Accessible by all manner of wildlife. A shiver made her shoulders tremble and she wrapped her arms around her chest, feeling uneasy.
But at least she wasn't going alone.
She sighed gently, feeling the butterflies in her stomach settle at this thought. And then she chuckled to herself. This trip was for Vincent, not her. But she was probably more worked up about it than he was. She wondered idly if anything ever scared him. Probably not; after all, he'd lived for who knew how long with a demon residing inside of him. Anyone who could survive that would not break into a nervous sweat easily. She wondered also what Vincent would think if he knew she was more afraid of the trip itself than of the risk she was taking with Chaos. She doubted it would please him.
Elira committed the view from her balcony to memory. It would be awhile before she would see it again. As she looked over the budding leaves of a tree a few feet from her balcony, she remembered another view. One from the window of her bedroom in her father's house the night before Eagan had whisked her away to Penora, sector eight, their new home. Elira chewed her bottom lip, realizing that her brow was creased. She and Vincent would no doubt be making a stop at Kalm, since it was right on the way. What would it be like to see it again? The memory touched her like icy fingers on the back of her neck. She shivered again and rubbed her arms with her hands though the breeze blowing over her was not chilling. It was time to go in. With one more sweep of the area around her second story apartment, she turned and stepped back through the open balcony window and into her flat, shutting the sliding door behind her.
As she slipped into bed that night, she wondered to herself what Vincent was thinking. She wondered until she fell into what she realized might be her last sleep in her own bed, the blankets pulled up to her chin more for comfort than warmth.
Vincent stood from his closet, a weighty box in his arms. With swift movements, he turned and walked to the shadow of his bed in the darkened room, setting the box down with an exhalation. And then he began to search through the contents, tossing assorted guns and clips aside as he hunted for one certain weapon. Eventually, he found it. The Peacemaker. Rotating it carefully in his hands, he examined it for any signs of impairment. But it looked to be intact and in working order. Pleased, he put it aside and began to rifle through the box again.
A holster. Vincent slipped out of his coat and then removed his belt, replacing it with the leather strap of the holster. He did up the cincture and then picked up the gun. Holding it in his right hand, he slid his index finger gently over the trigger. And then he spun the weapon expertly before depositing it into the holster.
If he'd been anyone else, he would've smiled in satisfaction. The training he'd received from working as a Turk had survived the latency of ten years. Even as it had survived the dormancy of thirty.
Vincent put the box of guns back into his closet and then picked up his coat and the knapsack where he'd packed a few changes of clothes. Walking out into the hall by the apartment door, he put everything down by the food supplies and the tent and sleeping bag Elira had purchased for him. Then, stepping out of his boots, he made his way back to his bedroom.
He lay on his bed with his right hand behind his head, his prosthetic resting on his stomach, waiting out the night, his mind questioning whether the cheating of fate was truly possible. Whether the banishing of Chaos was truly possible. Whether humanity for Vincent Valentine was truly possible...