Though she could tell Vincent was not pleased with the idea, Elira was adamant about delaying the trip until she'd had a chance to say good-bye to Benita, the woman who had been like a mother to her at times. And although Benita denied it, Elira knew the both of them were crying as they bid their farewells in the front room of the shop. There was a quick, fierce hug between them before Elira turned and walked out of the store with Vincent.
And she felt the leaving of her life behind like a piece of her heart being cut out.
There were no trains that made stops near to the edge of Neo-Midgar, since no one but the hunting community ever left the bustling life of the city, so Elira and Vincent took a taxi to the exit door of Virna. The large and rusted door looked to Elira as if it would put up a fight, but it merely squealed its hinges as the two of them slipped away, out into the countryside. Elira did her best to keep from looking back. Eagan had told her once that it was bad luck to look back.
And if there was anything Elira didn't want now, it was bad luck. Vincent had made it more than clear that she was basically taking her life into her hands by coming with him, since neither of them really knew what to expect. But she didn't care. She needed to be with this detached and lonely man because he was the only one in the world she felt she could trust not to turn his back. Because she had a feeling he remembered how it felt, better than anyone. He was the only one who could fill her loneliness and mend her shattered faith.
She had to go with him. Even though she knew it was crazy to trust a man she barely knew. But...she did know him. Their pain was the same, although his seemed far deeper. This part of him she knew intimately, and it gave her courage to fight for a joy of life she'd left behind years ago. Because someone was standing with her, helping her to stand against the biting wind of fear and despair that had blown her down once, almost sending her to the edge. Just by being, just by agreeing, he was helping.
Because she had seen in him the strength she didn't have to fight what he called fate. She had seen in him in a month what had taken her two and a half years to see in Barret. There was something about Vincent Valentine that had made her want to delve deeper into him in a way she had been reluctant to do with Barret. There was something about him...
Something about a mysterious and dangerous man...
And he needed her.
Vincent said nothing as they walked north, towards the distant wall of mountains, the Midra Mountains Elira recognized from the map, that swung around in front of them, blocking out the horizon. A couple of times, Elira tried to start up a conversation, but he didn't seem too interested in talking, only giving a noncommittal grunt at her attempts. And she began to wonder if he was worried about the trip, about how Chaos would react. She wanted to reassure him that everything would be all right, but didn't because it would be a lie. And she had a feeling he wouldn't appreciate her optimism, especially when he knew more about Chaos than she ever would.
It had taken some doing before she'd been able to convince herself that telling Vincent about the runes was not optional. Part of her had believed he would shrug it off as legend; part of her had believed he would tell her to stop meddling in what she didn't understand. But part of her had been hopeful that he would see it as she did: a chance for him to escape a fate that still left her baffled at how he'd been able to live with it.
Because, beneath what she'd seen of his critical, mistrusting eye and his eternally suspicious demeanor, she'd sensed a skeptic turned believer. After all, how could one not believe in the unbelievable after the unbelievable had become a part of one's daily life?
And her intuition had been right. He'd taken the legend seriously. And then he'd let her come along when she'd been able to prove that he would need someone, a friend he could trust.
Whatever Vincent was, he was no fool.
The walk was pleasant at the beginning. Elira felt the sun and the wind in a way she hadn't inside the city. A peaceful silence lay on everything, though once in a while in the first half hour a shot could be heard from a far-off hunter's gun. There was a freedom that was almost tangible as they walked unhindered along the long-untended path that led from Neo-Midgar to Kalm.
But, as time passed, the walk became less enjoyable and more like work.
Elira guessed that they had been walking for a couple of hours by the time her feet, legs, and shoulders had started to bother her enough to warrant a complaint. She wasn't used to walking such long distances, and the mild weather had become like a sweltering day to her, the sun hot on her face. She could almost see the red strip of burnt skin across her nose and cheeks. She turned to Vincent and was irritated to see how he continued to walk in seeming comfort despite the fact that he was dressed completely in black. His eyes were squinted, though, against the light pouring down from the cloudless sky.
"Vincent, can we rest for a minute?" Elira asked. "I'm tired."
Vincent didn't answer, but he did stop walking. Elira sighed and gravitated toward the grass at the side of the thin dirt path they'd been following, pulling at the straps of the portable tent. The pack slid from her shoulders and she dropped it to the ground before seating herself slowly, her legs weary and aching from the exercise she was so unfamiliar with. She also removed her coat and, laying it out on the grass, moved herself onto it.
Vincent continued to stand on the path. Elira squinted up at him. "Aren't you going to sit down?"
"I'm not tired." He was staring off toward the mountains as if gauging in his mind how long the journey would take them. Elira studied him quietly for a moment before digging around in her pack for her water skin. As she raised it to her mouth and took a sip of the lukewarm water, Vincent spoke again, not looking at her. "Are you hungry?"
She was, Elira realized, suddenly aware of the fact. She nodded, but then realized Vincent wasn't facing her and said, "Yes." He turned away from the mountains a few seconds later and shrugged out of his pack, lowering it to the path and squatting beside it. As he untied the drawstring, he asked, "What do you want?"
Elira rolled up the sleeves of her shirt, wondering what the rations she'd asked the grocer to pack would be like. She hadn't thought to look at them before they'd left the city. "The first thing you grab, I guess," she finally answered.
Vincent pulled out a small package and tossed it to her. She caught it easily and pried the plastic open to find small strips of dried meat. Picking one up in her fingers, she put it between her teeth and bit down. And pulled. And yanked. Finally, a chunk came off in her mouth and she sat chewing for a little while. When she'd swallowed, she looked at the package distastefully. "Is this what traveling rations are?"
Vincent gave a small shrug.
Elira wrinkled her nose. "What other goodies are in there, pray tell?"
Vincent continued rummaging and produced other airtight packages, the contents of each written on the plastic: selections of dried fruit, hard traveling biscuits, and more dried meat. Elira stood, despite the protests of her legs, and approached Vincent to see for herself what his pack carried, but before she'd taken two steps in his direction, he'd loaded everything back in and done up the drawstring. Standing, he replaced the pack onto his shoulders. "Are you ready to continue?"
Elira was a little confused by his sudden desire to leave, but she didn't dwell on it, recognizing that, were she in his situation, she wouldn't want to spend much time dawdling. She returned to her things to gather them, but, as she bent over, something in her back cramped up. With a small cry, she put a hand to the offending muscle and dropped carefully to her knees. She heard no footsteps, but she knew Vincent was nearing her.
"I'm a little out of shape," Elira explained without looking up, wincing as she pressed her fingers into the knotted muscle. "I'll be fine in a few minutes." She turned her head and smiled through her grimace at Vincent, who stood just behind her. Inwardly, though, she was cursing, aggravated by her own physical limitations. She hoped Vincent wouldn't try send her back to Neo-Midgar; she knew already she had to follow him. Like the fears that had been born out of the pain of grief and guilt, Vincent was somehow a part of her, an important part that was still coming into being. There was nothing for her in the city if he wasn't there, she realized. And this caused her some initial trepidation. She pushed it down though, reminding herself that she could trust him, could be around him without fear of what her dependence would bring.
But Vincent didn't demand that she give him her gear and go back to Neo-Midgar. He merely said, "Wait here," and walked off, away from the path to the east. Elira watched his departing form with no little curiousity until he disappeared over a rise in the terrain. And then she sat to wait. After about a half hour, she began to wonder if he had told her to wait just so he could abandon her with a head start, guessing that she would follow. But then, she saw him returning, a black mark on the horizon being followed by two larger yellow marks. As he came closer, she saw that the two yellow things were actually chocobos, sleek and preened with their large heads held high on gangly necks. They were beautiful despite their awkward appearance and Elira found herself captivated, watching them walk on spindly legs until they were only a few feet away and Vincent was turning to stop them. She stood slowly for fear that she might startle them and sidled closer, one hand held out as if in supplication.
One of them warked softly and took a step toward her. She shied away for a moment, but then continued as it halted, cocking its head to look at her as if curious. She smiled and one more step brought her near enough to touch its smooth beak with hesitant fingers. It nuzzled her palm. She chuckled and ran her other hand over the feathers between its huge black eyes.
"Here." Elira turned as Vincent put his right hand into his coat pocket and produced a handful of greens, holding them out for her. She took them and cautiously brought them up to the chocobo's beak. It pecked at them gently for a moment before grabbing them out of her hand, nibbling down on them, stray bits floating from its mouth to the grass. Elira turned to look at Vincent.
"Where did you find them?"
Vincent looked back the way he had come and gestured with a gloved hand. "I can remember there being a chocobo ranch not far from here. It is gone now, but the chocobos still thrive in the area."
Elira continued stroking the tamed creature between the eyes. "They're different than I thought they'd be," she admitted. "I kind of imagined they'd be...I don't know, timid and wild."
Vincent didn't reply, moving over to the other chocobo and hoisting himself nimbly onto its back. Elira watched the way he did it and then, after gathering up her gear, attempted the jump herself. Only to fall back to the ground on her backside, her hands scraping in the dirt. She glanced to Vincent for help and was suddenly glad he wasn't the type to laugh at another's blunders.
"Push its neck down and it will sit," Vincent instructed.
Elira did as she was told, putting her hands on its ropy neck and pressing gently but firmly. After a moment, the chocobo sat slowly, folding its long legs underneath its feathers. Elira slipped onto its back and waited, but the chocobo did not rise immediately. However, when she kicked its flanks gently with her sneakers in an effort to get it going, it stood. Elira grabbed at its feathers as she rose with it, suddenly feeling very far from the ground. When she glanced down, though, and saw that the dizzying height was really only a few feet, she was comforted. She'd never really liked heights.
Vincent urged his mount into a trot and Elira's chocobo followed of its own accord, matching the pace and speed from a few feet behind.
Riding was much easier, and faster, than walking, though Elira's thigh muscles began to ache after a while from having to hold herself to the creature's back, and her fingers cramped up at times from holding tightly to its feathers as it swayed beneath her. Still, all in all, it was better transportation and she found herself more inclined to enjoy the scenery as they traveled on, always north toward the foothills of the mountain range where, on the other side, lay Kalm and the ocean. And the ruins of old Midgar.
A few hours passed before they took another stop in the midst of a small forest, letting their chocobos feed off the long grass beneath the canopy of trees while they rested. As Elira took small sips from her water skin, she noticed that Vincent neither drank nor ate. And she realized that she hadn't seen him do either when they'd stopped before. She shrugged this concern to the back of her mind, though; he'd had no loss of strength so far, so there was no need for her to bring it up. He would eat and drink when he was ready.
Once they were out of the forest, the land became very level and Elira could see the foothills clearly approaching. To her eyes, they looked quite close, but the sun was setting by the time they reached the first of them. Elira slipped gratefully from her chocobo as Vincent suggested they make camp for the night, leading it over to where Vincent had left his beneath an outcropping shelf of rock. After a few minutes of standing idly, the two creatures sat, nestling their beaks in their feathers in preparation for sleep.
Elira chose a nearby spot out of the night breezes to set up her tent. Not being used to such things, it took her almost a half hour to recall from her childhood how to put one up. Eventually, though, it was standing. The sky around her had darkened considerably by this time and she was glad she had decided to forego eating until she'd prepared her sleeping accommodations.
Vincent had not set up his. He stood, instead, out on the path that would eventually lead them beside the mountains and out onto the other side, looking at the way they would have to go. Elira approached him as quietly as she could, though she knew already that he could hear her. He didn't turn to face her as she came up beside him.
"What are you thinking about?" she asked him finally. She wasn't really surprised when he didn't answer, but it did hurt her a little to think of the barrier that still existed between them through his own efforts. But he'd said he wanted someone to trust with his thoughts, his pain, and his history, the way she did; she would just wait until he was ready. Like waiting for him to affect his stance until he was ready to fire a gun and shatter the cloudy walls of a bottle.
Elira craned her neck and looked upward. The twilight had almost completely faded over the horizon, and the little light was not enough to block out the brilliance of the stars overhead. "The stars are so beautiful out here," she commented quietly. "It's so dark, there's nothing to out-shine them, so we see them the way they were meant to be seen." She breathed in the night air, feeling it a comfortable change from the pungent scent of the chocobos. And she sighed. "My father always said that any time I was feeling trapped in the city to look up to the stars. He said they would remind me that freedom was never very far outside of Neo-Midgar."
Vincent didn't stir for long moments. And then he broke his reverie, glancing up at as if to test her father's theory. "I always felt confinement when I looked at the stars," he stated softly. "After all, they are fated to spend eternity in the same position, never able to move from it. Until death overtakes even them." After a moment, he shook his head and lowered his eyes, looking at an undefined point in front of him. And then, after a pause, he asked, "Did you want to eat?"
Elira crossed her arms over her chest, thinking over his response. "In a minute."
As if he hadn't heard her, Vincent lowered his pack and, opening it, brought out a few of the packages. He then handed them to her. "Tomorrow will be a tasking ride so I suggest you retire for the night."
Elira nodded, but didn't head for her tent, continuing to stand beside him. After a few moments, Vincent walked away and settled himself down with his back against a large, flat-sided rock. Elira followed him, a little puzzled by his neglect to set up his tent. He didn't look at her as she stepped in front of his seated form, no more than a dark shadow within the shadow of the rock, his red eyes and a glimmer of his pale skin the only evidence of him.
"You are going to sleep, aren't you?" she asked, a little concerned that he might be planning to stay awake all night, though she was unable to come up with a reason why he would. If the trip was going to turn arduous, didn't he need his rest, too?
"One of us will have to keep watch," Vincent explained. "You are weary, so I will keep watch tonight."
Elira stared down at him, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "Vincent, please remember that, although this trip is for you, I'm a part of it. So I want to take my share of the responsibility." And she did. There wasn't much chance that anything would happen since the animals in the area consisted mostly of Kalm-Fangs, who were mainly scavengers, picking off the weak and sick members of other races or eating what was already dead. There were undoubtedly other creatures around, but she felt she would be able to handle whatever came up. Her talent with a gun had improved considerably since that first night in the park.
She couldn't see Vincent's face within the shadows, but she could sense him frowning. "Elira, I will keep watch tonight. You are tired."
Elira found herself frowning at his reply. She hated being treated as if she was a child, unable to say what was and wasn't right for her. She'd always hated it. "Aren't you tired?"
There was a moment's silence. "When I am tired, I will sleep."
Elira sighed, running a frustrated hand through her hair, frustrated more with her own physical weakness than with Vincent. She was tired. Her body ached to curl up in her sleeping bag in her tent. Finally, she said, "All right, you win. For tonight, you can keep watch. But tomorrow night we'll share it."
Vincent didn't respond, but it seemed to Elira that he nodded. With that decided, she retreated to her tent.
It was only after she had eaten and was drifting off into a deep sleep that she realized they would probably be in Kalm by tomorrow night.
Once Elira had closed the flaps to her tent, Vincent pulled the Peacemaker out of the holster at his hip and inspected it in the closing darkness. It was not well adorned, nor was it the most effective gun ever fashioned. But it was a good size for travel and got the job done quickly and quietly, its firm trigger letting the user prepare to fire the shot once more after the initial aiming, allowing for more accuracy. He held it deftly in his right hand, before aiming it suddenly at a rock about fifty paces away. And then, he flipped it backward around his finger adeptly a couple of times before grabbing the butt and trigger again in his grip. After another glance at it, he placed it back into the holster and lay his head against the rock behind him.
And, as had become routine, he found his thoughts lingering on Elira. There was no doubt she'd left an impression on him. The depth he sometimes sensed within her surprised him still, though he knew already that love's double-edged sword had hurt her as it had hurt him. He recognized that the depth came from the understanding they shared of one other, despite the fact that she was barely older than a child, only three years over twenty. Twenty-three to his sixty-seven, approaching sixty-eight. He was nearly three times her age. He sighed quietly, thinking carefully back to the one night they had shared the same bed. And he regretted it, even as he wished somewhere inside that it could've evolved into something more than mere memory. But he was cursed. And he was aged.
And he was Vincent Valentine, the kind of man who fate had created unlovable. Unlovable in the way he'd wanted to be loved by...
He winced, pushing past the name, her name. The name of the woman who had not loved Vincent Valentine for reasons he had never known.
He knew Elira didn't love him, just as he hoped never to love her, never to pull her into his curse to her death and his agony. She'd come with him that night, been with him that night, as a kind of balm for their mirroring loneliness. And perhaps as a kind of pity for a man who'd been without physical affection for so long that any touch made him tremble with need. The need to be...loved, in whatever form love would come.
He hated being so needy. If only he were stronger, colder, he wouldn't need...
But he was still human in that sense. A weak and needy human being, which he'd tried his best to make sure that no one else saw. Avalanche hadn't seen it. No one had seen it.
Until Elira, who understood why he wore masks. Because she'd worn them, perhaps still wore them. He frowned deeply, suddenly wishing he'd never walked into her shop. Then he could've kept on living, dead to the world and dead to himself. And Chaos would've remained asleep.
But he had entered her shop, and she had hired him. And now he had little choice as to his actions. He needed to go to the Forgotten City of the Ancients. And he needed her to go with him as his last connection with humanity, and as his safeguard who would inject him with tranquilizers when Chaos broke through his self-control. He had no choice now.
Fate had led him to Elira's shop to trap him again, giving him someone who understood, but ensuring that she would die if he ever fell in love with her. Just as she had died.
Fate was a master in the art of torture.
Vincent sat up suddenly, the sound of hissing reaching him as if a snake was on the rock above his ear. He glanced around, but saw nothing amiss. The hissing continued, but then started breaking up like laughter. And then it started forming words.
Poor human. Sssso troubled.
Vincent sat still, realizing in some fear who was addressing him.
Yesssss. You know me, Vinsssscent. And I know you. I know you well.
Vincent gritted his teeth, attempting to control the hate he suddenly found welling up inside of him for this voice.
Oh, yesssss. Hatred. Anger. Let it conssssume you. Let me out.
Vincent took a deep breath, settling himself. "What do you want?" he asked quietly.
No need to ssssspeak, Vinsssscent. I can hear your thoughtsssss. You wissssh to know why I am ssssssuddenly in your mind thisssss way? Merely curioussss. Yesssss, yesssss. Why are we traveling, Vinsssscent? Where are we going?
Vincent frowned. "You do not know?" he asked aloud, despite the allegation that he didn't need to voice what he wanted to say. "I thought you said you could hear my thoughts."
I can! I can! Alwayssssss. Ssssso think, Vinssssscent. Where are you taking usssss?
Vincent clamped a restraint on his thoughts, unwilling to picture the Forgotten City within his mind, unwilling to give away his secret too soon. How had Chaos made its way into his conscious mind? Had it always had this ability, or was this a recent development?
Oh, I've alwayssss been able to enter your mind, Vinsssscent. My sssssecret, hmm?
Vincent pursed his lips. Chaos had to be lying somewhere. It couldn't read all of his thoughts all the time or it would already know their destination.
I do know! I have merely forgotten. Ssssso remind me, Vinsssscent. Tell me where we are headed.
There was something preventing Chaos from knowing. Vincent felt some strength in this fact. "I will not tell you."
The hissing filled his head again and he winced at the sound. And then Chaos spoke again, its voice turning from the sultry tone into a harsh growl.
Then ssssuffer!
Vincent did his best to muffle his cry of anguish as Chaos attempted to force its way to the surface despite the fact that Vincent was not weakened by rage. He pushed himself to his hands and knees, shutting his eyes and clenching his teeth as wave after wave of mental and physical anguish washed over him. A wheezing laughter surrounded him, engulfing his senses in madness.
Vincent stumbled to his feet. He had to reach Elira's tent. He had to get one of the darts before Chaos was able to overpower him. Halfway there, though, the wings ripped from his back, shattering through his defenses in a blizzard of dizzying agony. A scream tore itself from his throat and he dropped to the ground, writhing, his hands beginning to transform into bestial claws before his eyes. His eyes that were now bathed in the colour of blood. He could dimly hear the frightened cries of the chocobos over the screeching laughter in his head.
And then he heard Elira's voice.
"Vincent, I've got a dart ready!"
Chaos stopped laughing and Vincent felt the demon begin to withdraw. Gasping with exertion, he pushed himself up and raised a claw that was slowly returning to what he recognized as his right hand. "No, it's all right, Elira! It is over."
Elira's eyes were wide with fear and concern and she hesitated a moment before lowering the tranquilizer gun. She was still dressed in her clothes, obviously having seen no logic in packing sleeping attire. Her shoes were gone though, and she stood in the sparse grass surrounding the outcroppings of rock in her socked feet.
Vincent lay down, content just to breath as he felt the wings recede into his shoulders. The crimson tide retreated from his eyes, leaving the world as it had been before the delirium of Chaos. He felt Elira kneel down beside him and felt her hands touching him, rubbing his back, holding him.
And for once, he didn't push her away, too weary to fight. Too weary to fight what he needed.