Time is a funny thing. It can pass so quickly when one isn't paying attention, so slowly when one is forced to pay attention. Time one enjoys becomes a memory too soon. Hours, days, weeks that one wishes were over go by as if every minute has its shoes made of lead. Long minutes turn to long seconds until lead permeates every breath, every movement, poisoning everything until one goes insane.
Elira sometimes felt as if she was going insane inside a huge bubble shaped like a luscious resort town. Waiting, waiting in her villa/asylum for two weeks and a little to dribble away into the eavestrough of what was past, eventually making its way down into the timestream that ran through the garden dirt where the final worms and grubs crawled, impatient with insatiable hunger.
She moped around for the first few days, drawing into herself, feeling sorry for herself, until she finally realized what she was doing. She was giving in to her curse, letting it trick her into isolating herself again. She was letting it sap the energy she would need to have for the rest of the journey; it was trying to get her to go back on her offer to help Vincent. But she wasn't going to give in to it. Even if her slowly mending heart sometimes felt as if it had been cracked, she forced herself to keep living. She made herself spend time with Leo when she felt more like returning to the villa and curling up in bed where it was safe and comforting.
She would not leave Vincent now. Not when perhaps the most critical part of the voyage was coming up. He would need her. And she would be there for him, even if he didn't...
...didn't love her.
Elira tried to convince herself that one reason she was continuing was not that love might still be possible, but all of her arguments fell on a deaf and stupidly optimistic heart. She couldn't stop believing in the possibility. There was a stubborn strand of hope still holding the idea up, letting her continue to hope, despite all evidence to the contrary, that Vincent felt something, anything, for her, the way she felt for him. She couldn't quite bring herself to believe that he was so separate from humanity that he hadn't been affected by the time they'd spent together so far.
Working at the book shop was not Elira's idea of the perfect job, but it wasn't wholly distasteful. The money she made paid for groceries and, when she felt inclined to shop, things that would be useful for the rest of the trip, such as more tranquilizer darts, and some cooking equipment. The traveling rations had become offensive to her during the first walking part of their trip, so much so that she was willing to learn to hunt and cook her own food if necessary to avoid having to eat the rations. In her free time, she continued to translate Cetra scriptures with Leo until she was able to recognize some of the ideograms on sight. It, like working, gave her mind something to concentrate on so that she wouldn't have to think.
Because, right now, thinking hurt.
The second week, if possible, dragged by even slower than the first, every hour of every day passing like two. She was waiting anxiously for the time to pass, and so the day of the barge became the proverbial 'watched pot'.
She was waiting. Waiting to see him again. Even if he didn't love her, she would settle for loving him from afar. At least, until he was free from Chaos. And then...
And then whatever happened, happened. She would tell him how she felt once the demon was gone and he would make a decision. A decision that could alter the entire course of her life.
Often, when her mind reached this point, Elira would go and do something to occupy her thoughts. To get her to stop trying to guess what Vincent's decision would be...
Elira shook her head and decided she'd spent enough time idling behind the cash register. She had to busy herself to keep her thoughts from reminding her that the barge was leaving tomorrow, the tomorrow she'd thought would never come. That meant Vincent could show up any time now. She hadn't seen him for two and a half weeks, though she knew he'd been in the villa at least once; the new package of tranquilizers had been taken from her backpack. When she'd discovered it missing, she'd become a little angry at Vincent for his avoidance of her, and then angry at him for everything and anything that had come to mind. But then, she'd sighed, realizing that her anger was doing nothing but making her miserable. And she was tired of being miserable. She just wanted him to come back.
She could hear Leo stacking books in wall cases from somewhere within the mazes of shelves. Pursing her lips, she decided to search him out. The idea of seeing him no longer made her as uncomfortable as before; though she still wondered at his intentions sometimes, he'd never tried anything beyond what one friend does for another. She'd begun to trust him a little more. And that was good. His friendship had comforted her during Vincent's absence. At one point, when, after moving a pile of particularly old and musty books, she'd started to cry, Leo had come to the rescue, letting her weep on his shoulder without trying to make her say what was wrong when she didn't want to say. The books, the scent, had reminded her...reminded her so vividly of that which her heart missed against her will...
Leo glanced over at Elira as he stood from a box, a small batch of books held in his hands. He smiled, twitching his nose at his spectacles which had fallen down his nose. Elira smiled back, approaching until she was close enough to adjust his glasses.
"Thank you," Leo said, looking at her a moment before reaching up to put the books on a shelf.
"You're welcome." Elira's eyes drifted to the box, finding it almost empty. She raised her eyebrows. "Boy, that didn't take you long. Is this the last of them?"
"Yep." Leo reached down and grabbed another handful of the dwindling supply of novels. "But I won't take all the credit. Without your help it would've taken me months to finish putting these out." He straightened.
Elira's smile grew and she bowed her head a little to hide it. Leo chuckled and she glanced up.
"What?" she asked as he continued to laugh quietly, though he wasn't looking at her now as he put the books away.
He shook his head as he lowered his arms. "Your modesty is charming," he answered, turning to gaze at her. "I like that about you."
Elira began to lower her head again, this time to hide a small blush, but Leo put a finger under her chin, lifting her eyes up to meet his. His smile was warm. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but then he put his lips together in what could've been a grimace, shaking his head again. He took his hand back from her chin and looked away to the books. And then he glanced at his watch. He sighed, his eyes straying to the spines of the novels.
"Your shift's almost over, Elira. It's nearly five."
Elira nodded after a moment. Leo didn't look back at her, as if the books had become suddenly interesting. She herself gave a quiet sigh. This was probably the last time she would see him, unless she and Vincent came back through Costa Del Sol when they were returning. Supposing, of course, that they returned together. Supposing, of course, that fate didn't step in to curse the journey...
Elira wanted to say something meaningful, but what was there to say? In the three weeks she'd been in Costa Del Sol, she'd grown quite close to this young recluse of a historian. The two of them were alike in a lot of ways.
But not in the ways she and Vincent were alike.
Elira smiled at Leo, though he still wasn't looking at her. "Thank you for everything, Leo. You've been a great friend and I'll miss you." She struggled a moment for the words she wanted to say but then gave up. "Good bye." She turned and prepared to walk out of the shelving.
But a hand on her arm stopped her.
Elira circled until she was facing Leo. His fingers didn't leave her arm as he took a step toward her, until they were only a few inches apart. There was something in his eyes, something bright. Elira felt herself cringe inwardly. No, no...
"Elira, I..." Leo frowned a little and licked his lips. "I...God, I don't know how to say this." He looked again to the titles to his right as if to gain inspiration. After a moment, he looked back to her. "I don't want you to go," he said softly, his fingers tightening spasmodically around her arm as he spoke.
Elira realized that she'd unconsciously clenched her teeth. She breathed deeply, silently, to relax herself. This was going to be difficult. She'd imagined it more than once, but she'd never really thought it would happen.
Never thought Leo would have a problem with her leaving. He'd known from the second day they'd met that she couldn't stay. She'd made sure that he'd known. She hadn't been looking for anything more than a short friendship.
Elira met his eyes, feeling sorry and sympathetic. "Leo, I have to go. I've already promised Vincent that I'd go with him to the Northern Continent."
"Yes, I know, I know." Leo ran his other hand through his hair, sighing. "I just wish...oh, I don't know. I wish you could stay here...with me." He let go of her arm and let his fingers trail up to her face, brushing her cheek gently. He then slipped his hand behind her neck, gently urging her closer as he lowered his lips to hers, pressing a light kiss to her mouth.
There was no lightning-like jolt, no irresistible urge to deepen the kiss, as there had been with Vincent. Leo's lips felt nice and soft, but...but they weren't the lips she wanted. They didn't belong to the person she wanted. She pulled back after a moment. "I'm sorry, Leo. I've got to go," she said softly
Leo nodded, his eyes downcast. "I know. I know you do. I just...wanted you to know how I feel..." He gave a bitter chuckle and shrugged as he continued. "...in case you ever come back."
Elira winced at the hopelessness she heard in his voice. She wanted to touch his arm or give some other comforting gesture, but she didn't, afraid that it might be misconstrued. Instead, she gave a sad little chuckle of her own. "I really don't know what I'm doing after we're done at the Northern Continent. Maybe I will come back."
Leo glanced at her, his expression carefully neutral. Elira had a feeling he was trying to hide what heartache she'd caused so as not to upset her. "Maybe. We'll see, I guess." He took a slow step away from her. "Well, I've never been very good at good byes." He shrugged again. "Good bye, Elira. I hope I see you again."
Elira smiled. And then, not knowing what else she could do, left the store. On her way back to the villa, she stopped off at a hunting shop and bought three packages of tranquilizer darts. If Vincent was going through them as quickly as she guessed, they would need them, she realized. She wondered how frequent the transformations had become, and how violent...
She hoped Vincent was all right.
As she entered the villa, Elira found herself glancing around, looking for Vincent as she had looked every day following the weekend she'd discovered him standing behind her in the front room. But he wasn't there. Not yet.
Elira walked into the master bedroom where she stuffed the darts into her backpack before wandering out, headed for the bathroom and a nerve-calming shower. After that, she decided as she entered the bathroom and flicked on the light, she would eat some supper. And then she would wait. She wouldn't be able to do anything but wait. Because, no matter how busy she made herself, no matter how much she tried to deny it, she would be waiting.
She would be waiting for Vincent. Her pining heart would be watching for him even if she convinced her eyes not to strain themselves looking for him. She would be watching with a perception that was far more piercing than that of the physical eyes.
Her heart would be watching.
"When will the barge be leaving for the Northern Continent?"
The Costa Del Sol dock master turned slowly from the long-winded conversation he'd been having with one of the ferry's crewmen and started at the sight of the black-robed, red-eyed apparition at his left elbow, the colours of the sunset coming from over the water making him look just that much more menacing. The man he'd been talking with took a step backward, staring as he noticed Vincent, but then, after a moment, he turned and walked away with enforced aloofness as if he'd been about to leave.
The dock master's eyes strayed after his companion as if he wished that he, too, could just walk away. But then he looked back to Vincent, clearing his throat and attempting a toothy smile. "Yes? How can I help you?"
Vincent's expression didn't change. His pupils didn't even shift as he began to speak. "When will the barge be leaving for the Northern Continent?"
The dock master took off his cap and ran a hand through his dark hair, damp with sweat from a muggy shift spent on the dock. He sighed as he replaced his hat, as if the question was a difficult one to answer. "Um, tomorrow morning," he responded finally, looking over his shoulder at the barge which had been brought around to its departure point in preparation for the next day. "It's leaving tomorrow."
Vincent gave a quick nod and, pivoting on a heel, walked away from the dock area, to the great relief of the dock master who returned quickly to his work.
Vincent walked silently over the streets of Costa Del Sol, ignoring the people who looked in confusion at the man so completely covered in black in the heat of the resort. He thought first of returning to the caves, but then decided against it. By the time he arrived, it would no doubt be time for him to begin the returning trip. He might as well stay in Costa Del Sol until morning. He might as well stay at the villa until morning...
It couldn't do that much harm if he spent one night under the same roof as Elira. She'd be sleeping, anyway. It couldn't do any harm...
The door to the villa was unlocked. Vincent considered knocking at first, but then decided against it. If he knocked, she would come and open the door. And he almost felt as if he wasn't ready to see her. Not just yet. He turned the knob and swung the door inward quietly before stepping into the front room and shutting the door silently behind him.
He could sense her; he could detect her scent in the air. He removed his backpack and then his boots, dirty from the walk to Costa Del Sol, and padded soundlessly through the house without a real destination. He was just walking...just looking...
He found her in the kitchen. His breathing quickened almost imperceptibly at the sight of her. As he stood in the doorway between the kitchen and the dining room, he watched her, drinking in the sight of her like a parched man drinking water, his eyes lingering uncomfortably on the bared legs he saw under the hem of her shorts. She was leaning with the small of her back pressed against the low counter, her eyes unfocused and staring at a spot above the refrigerator in front of her. She was rubbing the fingers of both hands together unconsciously, the action Vincent had come to recognize as her response to tension. He wondered at her thoughts; he wondered if she was upset by the thought of his return. Perhaps she was mulling over ways she could tell him she was in love with Leo and had decided to stay in Costa Del Sol. This idea made Vincent's chest constrict, but he did his best to ignore the feeling. If she was in love with Leo, it was her choice. It was her life. He had asked for no part of her.
He had not laid claim to her heart. Though he wished, somewhere within, that he had been able to...
But he hadn't even tried. Chaos had been reason enough for him to keep his distance. So Leo had every right to her. Every right...even if it felt so wrong...
Vincent's breath caught in his throat as Elira noticed him, turning her head suddenly to look. She gave a cry at first, stumbling back a couple of paces, putting a hand to her heart. And then she stared.
"Vincent." Her voice was trembling, barely more than a whisper.
Vincent noticed that she seemed to be close to tears though he couldn't understand why, just as he hadn't understood what had brought her so close to weeping two and a half weeks ago when he'd first returned. Did his presence distress her so? Maybe it did. Why should he have believed that anyone would ever feel anything but torment around him? Even if they understood the pain of rejection, it would be difficult not to reject him, reject what he'd been, what he'd become. Especially when they had been given a basis of comparison. Compared with Leo, Vincent guessed that he probably looked like something that had crawled out of a grave, not exactly an appealing image.
"The barge leaves tomorrow morning, Vincent." She'd composed her voice a little, though Vincent could still tell she was upset.
He gave a slight nod. "I know."
Her smile was shaky. "And I bought some more tranquilizers."
He nodded in acknowledgment. Elira nodded too, lowering her eyes until she was tracing the patterns on the linoleum at her feet. There was a long pause.
Vincent sighed inwardly. He was a fool. He'd come, hoping against hope that there was some way around this, but it was a foolish wish. He shouldn't have delayed this long. It was just dragging out the inevitable.
"Elira, I will be going alone from this point on."
Elira's mouth fell open to protest, but Vincent spoke first. He'd expected that she wouldn't agree immediately and had his argument planned out. She would see the logic in this course of action. She would see that he would be all right. She would have no reason to feel guilty about staying. "The darts aren't working like they used to; I will have as much success sedating myself as you will with the gun. Also, the danger provided by Chaos will only increase as we near the Forgotten City. You would do better to remain here in Costa Del Sol."
Elira had put one hand on the counter top as if to steady herself, her eyes wide. Her bottom lip quivered for a moment before she clamped her mouth shut. It was a moment before she responded, very quietly. "You're leaving without me?"
There was pain in her voice, and disbelief. She still wanted to come with him. Even if it wasn't in her best interests, even if it meant leaving Leo behind. She was truly a wonder. The least he could do in return for all of the selflessness and strength she'd displayed in staying with him this long was make sure she was alive and happy by the end.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"As I've said, Chaos has..."
"No." Elira shook her head, taking a step toward him. "You're not going without me. I won't let you."
Vincent was surprised by her persistence. It was almost as if she didn't want to stay with Leo...
"Vincent, if it's going to get dangerous you're going to need me there to help you! And I'm not afraid, anyway. Don't you think that, if I was afraid, I wouldn't have come in the first place? I don't care about the danger; besides, I think that with the both of us going, we could keep Chaos under control. It'll be okay..."
"Elira," Vincent interrupted her. He hesitated as she stopped talking. She wouldn't be swayed by his logic because she had her own; how could he get her to stay? He sighed. "Elira, I..." He frowned a little. "I don't want to you to come with me any further."
Elira's mouth fell slightly open and her eyes turned unhappy. "You...you don't want..." She fought for control, shaking her head. Vincent felt suddenly guilty for hurting her, but what else was there to do? It was better this way. It was better for her this way. She would realize that eventually. She would have to.
Elira looked on the verge of tears, but before one could be shed, she set her jaw, her expression becoming one of icy anger, anger to hide the injury. "Fine. If that's the way you want it, Vincent, then you can go alone. It makes no difference to me. I just thought you might've wanted..." She paused and took a breath. "It doesn't matter now. You do what you want." She lifted her chin and stared at him with narrowing eyes. "I'm going to stay here with Leo. He..." For a moment, it appeared that she was going to start to weep, her body beginning to tremble as her face contorted, but she forced herself to repress it. "He cares about me."
Elira didn't look at him as she brushed past him, walking until her footfalls had become muffled by distance. Vincent leaned wearily against the doorway beside him, closing his eyes. There. She'd done what he wanted. She was staying. She would be safe and happy. Everything had gone as he had planned. He frowned. So why did he feel so horrible? He sighed, resigning himself to the hurt caused by her leaving. I care about her, he admitted to himself. I wish I didn't, but I do. I care... His eyebrows twitched downward spasmodically. I care enough to let her go.
Elira stormed into the bedroom, overpowering the urge to cry by sheer will. If it was what Vincent wanted, she would give it to him. If he never wanted to see her again...
She pulled her clothes off angrily, grabbing the white, spaghetti-strapped dress out of the closet and yanking it roughly over her head. She would go to Leo. Even if she didn't love him, to have him love her was better by far than having her heart constantly stepped on by Vincent. Vincent who didn't care about her. Vincent who would rather challenge death than stay with her...
She shoved her feet into the sandals she'd worn when Leo had taken her around Costa Del Sol and hastily did up the buckles, grunting in incensed frustration whenever her fingers wouldn't comply. Once done fastening the straps, she stood and walked briskly out of the room and then out of the villa, not sparing a glance backward. There was no looking back. Vincent had made the decision about his future and it didn't include her. That was fine. It was his life; far be it from her to tell him what he could and couldn't do. If he didn't want her around, she would leave. And even if he decided later that he had been wrong, she wouldn't come back. He'd made his decision.
And she'd made hers.
There was a knock at the door. Leo looked up from what he'd just finished translating, wondering who in the world it could be. The only person he could imagine it being was Elira, but she'd gone...
He stood slowly, his knees cracking from the long sitting, and made his way to the door, calling out, "Be there in a second!" A few more steps brought him close enough to put his hand to the knob and an eye to the peephole.
It was Elira, standing in the hall and glancing around herself as if afraid that she had been pursued. He undid the sliding lock quickly and pulled the door open.
She'd come after all. She'd changed her mind.
"Elira! Come in, come in!" He moved out of the way, grinning broadly as she entered. But the smile she gave him was weak at best. He frowned a little. What was wrong?
"Elira?" he tried tentatively. Perhaps she hadn't decided to stay. Maybe there was another reason for her visit. His heart sank a little at this thought. Maybe she hadn't come back for him...
She turned to him. She looked pale, he realized, and upset. "Elira, what's the matter?"
She shook her head. "Nothing. Nothing, Leo. I...I was wondering if your offer still stood, if you still wanted me to stay with you."
Leo suddenly felt as if he would be able walk on air if he tried. "Yes. Yes, of course, Elira. If that's what you want."
It was a moment before she nodded. "Yes, it's what I want. I want to stay here with you, Leo." Her smile was a little more sincere this time.
"Oh, Elira." Leo put his arms around her carefully, drawing her to him. "It's possible that you've made me the happiest man alive."
She brought her own hands up and embraced him slowly, putting her ear against his shoulder, as if unfamiliar with the actions. Leo only held her tighter. How he'd dreamed of this ever since he'd seen her standing at the railing of the ferry, looking out to the ocean as if it had captured her. After a moment, he loosened his grip and she withdrew enough to look up at him. His eyes strayed to her lips, tracing their soft contours with his eyes. After a moment, he lowered his head and kissed her gently, surprised and delighted when she began to return the kiss. His hands slipped along her waist until they came to rest on her hips as he moved his mouth down, pressing his lips to her chin, her neck, her collarbones. He felt her tremble.
And then he heard her give a badly stifled sob.
He stood up in confusion to look her in the face. Was he going too fast? Her top teeth were fastened into her bottom lip and she wouldn't look at him, the tears falling from her eyes with every bat of an eyelash.
"Elira, what is it? I'm sorry..."
"It's not you," Elira replied curtly, still not looking at him, her voice thick. She drew in a shaky breath and gave another sob before slipping gradually to the floor, propping herself up with her arms as she cried silently toward the unfeeling carpet, her shoulders shaking.
Leo sat beside her, drawing a hand up to push a lock of her hair from her face. "Elira, what is it? Please."
She shook her head, turning her face away. "I'm sorry, Leo," she apologized brokenly. "I...I'll be fine in a minute."
"No, Elira. Please, tell me what's the matter." He craned his neck to look at her face. "Please. I'd like to help you."
Elira glanced at him, her tears making her eyes shine. After a pause she nodded, pursing her lips. "I'm just upset because Vincent..." She dabbed at her eyes with the back of her hand. Leo leaned over and grabbed a tissue out of a box nearby, handing it to her. She attempted a grateful smile before wiping her eyes dry. "...he doesn't want me to go with him to the Northern Continent like we'd agreed. He wants to go on his own."
Leo felt himself stiffen, not at the news, but at the resurfacing worry that Vincent was his competition. Elira had mentioned Vincent more than a few times during their talks together, and every time had made Leo wonder if there was something going on between them besides just friendship. Or if Elira wished there was something between them more than friendship.
"I don't even know why. I don't know what I did. And it doesn't make any sense; he could get killed if he goes alone. He could die and I could never know..."
Leo brought a hand up, brushing her bare shoulder with his fingers. "Elira, it sounds like he was just trying to protect you. I'm sure you didn't do anything."
"You think so?" The hopefulness in her voice shattered his heart. He'd been correct. She was in love, but not with him. She was in love with Vincent.
He swallowed the lump that was growing in his throat. "Yeah." His voice was cracking. He sighed. More than anything, he wanted to tell her that Vincent would be fine on his own and that she should stay with him. But he knew he couldn't. If she stayed with him now, he would always have in the back of his mind the thought that her heart belonged to someone else, and that he might've ruined her chance at happiness with his selfishness. That would break him. "He probably still needs you, he just doesn't want you to know about it because you'll want to go with him. And that would put you in danger. The Northern Continent is a dangerous place." Leo swallowed again and cleared his throat. "It sounds like he cares a great deal about your welfare." The words tore at him as if they were covered in barbs.
Elira looked at him for a long time before giving a sad smile. "I'm...I'm so sorry, Leo. I shouldn't have..."
Leo shook his head. As long as she was happy, it was all right with him. "There's nothing to be sorry about, Elira."
She bowed her head a moment before looking up at him again. "Thank you for everything. You've been more of a friend than I deserve."
Leo scoffed. "Don't say that."
Her smile widened by a fraction. "Maybe I'll come back this way."
No...no, you won't. Leo returned the smile. "Maybe." He stood and helped her to her feet. "But, even if you don't, I want you to take this with you." He stepped carefully over to his coffee table and picked up the Cetra lexicon he'd bought in Neo-Midgar. When he was again standing in front of her, he held it out in his hands. "I want you to have it, a gift from me to you."
Elira took it gently from him as if it was fragile. And then her smile turned tearful. "I...I don't know how to thank you, Leo, for...for who you are, for how you've always been here for me during the past month. I'm so sorry..."
"Shh." Leo brushed a hand along her cheek and she leaned into his touch briefly. "You should be going," he continued softly after a moment, dropping his hand to his side. Elira nodded, clutching the book to her chest as she headed toward the door. Leo opened it for her, bidding her good luck as she left.
Once the door was shut behind her, he collapsed against it heavily, closing his eyes. Gritting his teeth, he damned his conscience. Right now, the consolation that he'd done the honourable thing wasn't very consoling.
Vincent slipped the sleeves over his arms and began to methodically do up the buttons of his dress shirt. A damp strand of hair fluttered against his cheek, sticking to his skin, and he pushed it aside with a rough gesture as if to punish it. He was not in the mood for any more complications, no matter how trivial. He was washed, he would be dressed in a moment once he was done with the buttons and had tucked the hem of his shirt into his pants, his pack was prepared with the three new packages of darts Elira had bought. He was ready. Now, all he had to do was wait for the morning.
The last button slipped through the hole at the compulsion of flesh and metal fingers. Vincent lifted his head, shaking his hair until it lay trailing down his shoulders, dripping, no doubt leaving water stains on the black material of his dress shirt. He grabbed up his one glove and his bandana from the bed where he'd laid them. Just as he was about to pull the glove over his right hand, his ears picked up the sound of someone entering the villa. Hurried footsteps followed soon after. Elira's footsteps, he recognized, his heart beginning to pound in his ears. She'd...come back...
It took her no more than twenty steps to reach the door of the bedroom where she'd obviously guessed he was, even though there was no telltale light around the door since he'd left the light off. The door swung inward as she turned the knob and pushed. And then she stood there, and a moment passed where she just looked at him, and he looked back. In the light from the front room window, the white dress glowed luminescently, and Vincent could see the sheen of tears on her face. She'd been crying.
She was walking, approaching, her expression collapsing even as she tried to hold it together, blinking rapidly and pursing her lips. He couldn't move. What was she doing back? Had she forgotten something? Or, had she changed her mind again? He cringed inwardly, not wanting to have to push her away a second time. The first time had been stressful enough.
She stopped in front of him, her shining eyes searching his face. After a moment, she opened her mouth, taking a breath before stuttering, "I'm sorry, I...I'm sorry that I just stormed out. Leo helped me realize that...that this next part of the journey is going to be the hardest on you and that you need me now more than ever." She looked away from him, putting a hand to her cheek as she composed herself. Eventually, she turned back. "I...I was just so...so angry." She shook her head. "You made me so angry. You...you hurt me." She bowed her head and Vincent heard her give a breathless sob. "It hurt me that you didn't want..." She trailed off, unable to continue.
Vincent stood motionless, unsure of what to say. He hadn't thought she would take his plea for her to stay behind as a rejection. He just wanted her to be safe.
She had so much life ahead of her...
"Elira," he began quietly, but then hesitated. He'd never been very good at sharing thoughts or feelings. It was difficult to put what his sharp eyes couldn't see into words. He sighed. "You have been a great source of help to me. You've been trustworthy, and..." He paused again, searching for what he could say. "...and I don't want to see you get hurt, especially at my hands. You have too much to live for."
Elira looked up at this and scoffed through her tears. "As if you don't have anything to live for," she retorted thickly.
"Elira, you wouldn't know it to look at me, but I've lived almost three times your lifespan, nearly seventy years." Her eyes widened in incomprehension. "I don't grow, I don't age. What happened to me with Lucrecia happened forty years ago, when Jenova had just been discovered. Lucrecia was one of the scientists analyzing Jenova, as was Hojo, and I was the Turk assigned to watch them."
Elira was shaking her head slowly as if he'd just told her that the night sky was really a black canvas pulled in front of the sun.
"Yes, Elira, it's true. I've lived my share of life. At seventy, what is there to live for?"
"But you don't look seventy!" Elira argued immediately. "Why do you have to be? You could just keep living like a young man."
It was Vincent's turn to shake his head. "No, Elira. I had a lot of time to think in the caves I found north of here and I realized there is a great chance that, once Chaos is gone, supposing there is a way, my body will die. Or, if I do not die, I will become my true age. What use is a dead body to you, or an old man? I will be a burden on you and you don't deserve that. You should remain here in Costa Del Sol. Here, you may have a good life available." He turned away from her, preparing to put his glove on. "Besides, you have Leo waiting for you. You don't need me anymore to understand; if he cares about you, he will provide all of the understanding you require."
Her soft touch on his arm made him fumble the glove and his bandana so that they both dropped to the floor. He glanced at her.
She was smiling. "Vincent, I don't care about the danger. I want to help you, even if you die at the end of all of this. To know that you're at peace is a good enough reason for me to go with you. And..." She looked downward, studying her feet suddenly. "...as long as you're alive, I still need you."
She needed him. She wanted to be with him at the risk of her own life. She...cared about what happened to him, truly cared. She was the first in a very long time. Vincent turned to face her again, a swirl of thoughts and feelings rushing through him with the tumultuous speed of a stormy river. With hesitant fingers he reached up with his right hand, venturing to touch her shoulder. She glanced up but didn't pull away. Encouraged, he stroked her shoulder gently with unsteady fingertips; he wanted so much just to have her near, like she had been once before, the first in such a long time...
She was shivering as if cold. But her skin was so warm; Vincent wondered idly if the time he'd spent in the caves had lowered his body temperature. Perhaps it had. She was so warm. She took a small step toward him, raising her arms to embrace him, moving slowly as if afraid of frightening him away. His hand slid from her shoulder, down her bare arm, and he felt goosebumps rise on her skin under his fingers.
He had neglected to tuck in his shirt. The first touch of her hands on his exposed back made him start as if he'd been given a jolt of electricity. He closed his eyes as she began to caress him tenderly, feeling himself begin to tremble. It was too much...too much...
Stop. Please, stop. But he couldn't make himself say the words. He didn't want her to stop. He craved her touch, enjoying the way she was massaging him, the softness of her palms. Instead, he extended his arms, drawing her closer until she was pressed against him. He opened his eyes and looked down to find her gazing up at him, her mouth open, her lips quivering. An undeniable desire overtook him and he kissed her. She held him tightly, her fingers digging into his back. After a moment, her hands withdrew and he could feel her undoing the buttons he had so meticulously fastened up only minutes ago.
It was different, different than the first night, Vincent realized dimly, aware that this was slow and gentle where it had once been fast and passionate. There was something more to it now, something that made the difference so pronounced. This time, there was more than physical need driving it. There was care. There was...
...love...
Elira was drawing the material of his shirt over his shoulders, pulling it down until he broke the kiss, letting go of her to remove the clinging sleeves himself. Her bare arms encircled his uncovered torso until her head was resting against his chest, holding him tightly as if she would never let him go. He wondered if she could hear the violence of his drumming heart, could feel the quickened rising and falling of his lungs, could sense the life she brought to his body.
She was urging him backward, propelling him toward the bed that stood behind him. He obliged her, moving to sit on the mattress. Gently, she pushed him down until he was lying on his back before her. With slow movements, she drew the white dress up and over her head, tossing it to the floor before climbing on top of him.
Elira kissed him with all of the frustrated longing she'd been bottling up and had almost given to Leo. His response was not as slow as it had been a few moments ago; he was warming to her touch, to her irrepressible need. She needed him now. She loved him, she wanted him. She wanted to have him, to hold him, to feel him. She wanted to love him with everything she was...
His one hand rubbed her back and she drew her fingers up his sides, up his arms, feeling the thin, taut muscles there. He lifted his mouth from her kiss, giving a gasp. She kissed his cheek, his jawline, his ear. His scent and his taste were dizzying.
Vincent moved suddenly and Elira found herself underneath his weight, his breath, his lips brushing her face, her mouth. His unexpected action left her a little breathless; usually, she was the one saying the first sentence, making the first move. But now she was the one being driven on by his barrage of gentle affection. She slipped her arms over his shoulders, holding him to her tighter than gravity ever could.
If only she was sure this would last longer than tonight. If only she knew that he loved her, that he wouldn't break her heart afterward. If only he hadn't told her that the City of the Ancients might be his death, she might've believed that she wasn't fated to love men whose roads led to an early grave...
But none of that mattered now. Right now, she would love him while she could, hold him while she could. Tomorrow would take care of itself.
Vincent's mind was screaming that he was losing himself, that the thing he'd been avoiding for so long was blowing reason to the four winds. But, he didn't want it to end. The threat of the curse seemed a dim reason to stop. His mind revolted at this, frightened by his neglect to see how he was endangering her, endangering himself. But the fear was swallowed up in desire as he felt her fingers begin to undo the clasp to the empty holster that had become his belt. He kissed her ardently, feeling her mouth move beneath his.
Sssso warm, yessss, and sssso tassssty...
Vincent eyes shot open and he pushed himself suddenly from Elira, distressed by the surprised hurt he saw in her expression. But, what was he doing? He draped his legs over the edge of the mattress and pulled his right hand through his hair in the angst of his twirling mind, his burning body.
"Vincent?" She'd sat up behind him slowly. Gently, she lay a hand to his back.
"No!" He stood from the bed, turning to her. There was pained confusion in her eyes. He slumped as the tension seeped out of him, leaving him drained. "I'm sorry, Elira," he apologized with a small, helpless gesture. "Please, don't touch me."
She moved forward on the bed. "Why? What...what did I do?"
Vincent shook his head. "It wasn't you, Elira. It wasn't you at all."
"Then..." She was biting her bottom lip again. He cringed inwardly at once more having brought her this close to tears. "...what is it?"
Vincent began to pace the room slowly, his socked feet making no noise on the carpet. "It's Chaos. I didn't tell you, but he's been coming into my mind from the beginning of the trip and talking to me." He sighed suddenly, a sigh that seemed to have been dredged up from the depths of him where the memories of the decades he'd lived resided. "It's the curse. He's threatened to kill you, Elira. He's threatened to make me kill you. This is why I wanted you to stay; it will be too dangerous for you to continue on with me."
"Vincent." Elira stood from the bed but made no move toward him. "Do you remember what I told you that I'd found out about demons?"
Vincent nodded after a moment.
"Yes, that demons always lie. Are you going to believe Chaos?"
Vincent frowned. "Elira, the threat is real. Chaos has the power to kill you. It would only take a moment of lost concentration on my part for him to emerge and rip you asunder."
"But maybe the idea behind the threat is the lie, the idea that you'll be able to cast Chaos out on your own. Maybe Chaos is just trying to make it harder on you so that you'll give up, or maybe he knows something that we don't, that a second person is needed." She bent down to pick up the dress, holding it over herself as she shrugged. "I don't think you should take anything the demon says at face value."
Vincent didn't reply. She seemed so sure. If only she knew the things Chaos said...
His shirt, bandana, and glove lay discarded on the floor beside Elira, but he didn't dare approach to retrieve them. He could still sense where her hands had touched him, the impression of her body pressed against his too fresh in his mind. But, he couldn't be with her that way. His love was so fouled with sin and calamity, it couldn't help but bring about her death. She didn't deserve it; she deserved so much more...
Vincent wondered if it was already too late, wondering if he was already too far lost, already in love with her. Wondering if the curse was already working out the details of her death.
He walked through the doorway and made his way into the dining room, seating himself on one of the chairs. Idly, he held his left arm out, tracing with his eyes the way the flesh turned to metal, the evidence of his curse more than anything else.
But what if Elira had been right? What if Chaos' threats were made more to scare him than out of a real desire to kill her? Because, if it killed her, would that not just make him that much more determined to get rid of it? Perhaps it did know something he didn't.
Perhaps it knew that Elira was the key...
Elira sank down onto the bed as her knees gave out. She was so tired, but she knew her mind wouldn't let her sleep. Her thoughts were still too full of questions. Had it been a bad idea to come on to him the way she had? He'd seemed to want it; he'd seemed to encourage it. But was that her fault? Had she made him want to be with her against his will? It seemed improbable. All the other times, he had flinched away. This time, he'd remained so close, drawing her closer.
But had it just hardened his resolve to leave her behind?
She didn't know. She didn't know what Chaos said in his mind. She didn't know if what she'd learned about demons had meant anything to him...
Maybe he would go without her now, leaving in his wake bitter-sweet memories to haunt her for the rest of her life. She licked her lips and frowned, still able to taste him there.
It would be a long time before she slept.