Elira looked out of the grimy window at the gray water as small drops of rain landed against the pane, turning caked dirt to mud as it trailed in erratic patterns down to the rusting sill. They'd been on the tugboat for almost two hours now as it chugged unhurriedly across the ocean toward the Northern Continent, hauling the barge behind it like an ant towing a crumb of food more than twice its size. The captain was a tall, burly looking fellow with permanently sun-squinted eyes who was never seen without a cigar tucked into the corner of his mouth, whether the end was lit or not. He'd greeted Elira and Vincent gruffly, the only passengers for this trip, informing them that the ride would take six to seven hours depending on the weather; he'd not said a word since save the occasional noise he made in his throat to clear it of phlegm. Vincent hadn't spoken at all. After depositing his pack in the cab of the tug he'd gone to stand on the narrow deck. She'd thought of joining him once about half an hour into the crossing, but then she'd decided against it. He hadn't said one word to her all morning. The only reason she'd known he'd resolved to let her continue with him was the fact that he had waited for her.
They'd almost given themselves to each other a second time. Almost. But, he'd remembered that damnable fear of the curse, Chaos had made him remember, and he'd withdrawn again from her. Still, maybe it was better this way. Though she'd realized her feelings for him had grown into love, she still wasn't sure if he loved her. And, if he didn't love her, the last thing she wanted to do was get herself in deeper. She would want to be able to crawl out of her dreams if they avalanched in on her.
She had to know for sure...before she made herself that vulnerable to someone else again...
She glanced quickly out of the cloudy, rain-spattered window at the back of the cab, able to see Vincent's coat flapping around his legs in the wind, the ends of his hair lifting and fluttering from his back as he stood looking out into the water. His face was expressionless from what she could see of it, as if he wasn't really seeing anything in front of him. She wondered what he was thinking. She might've gone out on deck to ask him if she'd thought she would get an answer. But she was afraid to see him turn his head to stare at her blankly as if unable to understand why she had even asked. She was afraid to see the evidence of the wall that still stood so solidly between them, the wall he had re-erected suddenly during their passionate encounter of last night, the wall of fear he was too afraid to knock down.
The rain was starting to fall harder, tapping on the roof of the tugboat with a steadying pit-pit-pit-pit. Elira pulled her jacket out of her pack and pushed her arms through the sleeves, drawing the collar up against the drafts coming off of the ocean and through the many crevices of the cab. Lightning flickered, followed by a quiet rumble of thunder that rolled out like the angry chuckle of a god. Elira couldn't help glancing back at Vincent through the window, not surprised to see that he seemed unmoved by the approaching storm.
If anything, he seemed in his element among the unpredictable elements.
Vincent closed his eyes and lifted his face to the quickening rain, letting the cold fingers run down his cheeks like pseudo-tears. It was the closest he would ever come to crying.
The risk was so great now. If Chaos killed her, Vincent's own care would be his downfall. He'd known for so long that caring only brought pain and had therefore lived a secluded life, nearly like a monk in a tiny apartment for a monastery. Except that his god had been fate, and he'd kept apart from people as a way to escape it, not become closer. Why had he let this in? He sighed. He hadn't been able to keep her out. Lucrecia again...melting through his ageless walls with frightening ease. He should've left once he'd realized how drastically she affected him. But...
Vincent gritted his teeth. But...it had been so very long. She'd been like a magnet for his loneliness, drawing him with a force that was hard to resist, because he hadn't wanted to resist. If not for the curse, he would've opened himself to her, as he had to Lucrecia.
The curse. He'd almost opened up, praying and praying that it had been long enough for fate to forget his sins. But fate had a memory lasting for billions of lifetimes, and it certainly wouldn't forgive him.
It hadn't forgiven anything. As punishment for his attempt at living, Chaos had been awakened from its ten year dormancy, ready to fulfill the curse if Vincent had the gall to ignore the warning.
He had ignored it. And then he'd gone as far as trying to get rid of Chaos. He was still walking that road. He would do almost anything to be able to be at peace, whether in life or in death.
He hadn't been willing to risk Elira's life, though. Yet, here she was with him, her life at risk. A frown threatened. Did she...love him? The thought made him feel a little weak. Was it indeed possible that she'd chosen him over Leo despite his silence and his pallid, decaying body?
But it didn't matter. It shouldn't matter. Letting her come along had put her back into danger, right where he didn't want her. She would've been so much better off in Costa Del Sol. So much better off with...
Vincent clenched his teeth. ...with Leo...
He had finally let her come, but only because she could possibly be the key. If Chaos was so hell-bent on her staying behind, as its endeavors to split she and Vincent up had depicted, there must be a reason. Perhaps it knew that, without Elira, Vincent would fail.
So, here it was again. He was challenging fate in his need to rid himself of Chaos on a hunch that could possibly be wrong and could possibly kill Elira and leave him exactly as he was now. He sighed again, lowering his face from the rain and opening his eyes as another streak of lightning flashed across the darkening sky, followed by an echoing crack of thunder.
Everything was so crazy. Elira had inadvertently turned his life on its head.
Or maybe he was becoming senile in his old age.
Elira woke as the boat geared down with a sudden jolt, stirring stiffly from her cramped seated position in a corner on the warped linoleum of the tug. With a yawn, she pushed herself up to her feet and stretched discreetly, noting the discomfort in her back and legs. She grimaced, wishing she'd had the foresight to at least pull one of the blankets out of her pack to sit on.
The rain had ceased. Through the front window, Elira could see that the tug was coming up to a large, wooden plank dock surrounded by dark beach sand. Beyond the beach were many trees and quite a bit of vegetation, further proving the lack of civilization on the Northern Continent. At the end of a gravel road, just barely visible beyond the dock, a large truck was pulling up, followed closely by a small, roofless vehicle where a number of men were getting out even before it had come to a complete stop. They seemed to be chatting as they walked toward the dock, many of them shirtless and obviously strong. The hired hands for transporting the supplies from the barge, she realized.
She found Vincent in the exact same stance she'd seen him in nearly five hours ago, facing the water at the same angle with the same expression on his face. She cleared her throat as she approached him from the door of the cab, though she knew he knew she was there without her having to make a sound.
She stopped a few feet from him along the railing and looked out at the water also, watching as the wind stirred it into short-lived, choppy waves. "We're here," she said at length.
Vincent didn't reply. Elira felt the sudden urge to shake him by the shoulders to get him to stop withdrawing, to get him to come back, but she knew it wouldn't do any good. He was so distant and all she could do was speculate why. Though he'd said last night that it wasn't her, that line of his that lost more of its meaning every time he used it, she wasn't sure what to think. He'd said it was Chaos that made him so distant, but if there wasn't a problem with her, wouldn't he share what he was going through with her? She crossed her arms over her chest, watching the speed of the boat decrease in degrees according to the water as they pulled closer and closer to the shallows. He'd stopped sharing himself; had he ever started? He'd told her a few things over the time they'd known each other, but he'd never seemed very pleased about it. He'd always seemed tired when he talked, as if it drained him. Maybe it was emotionally draining. But, was that really a reason to shut her out completely when all she wanted to do was help?
Maybe it was. Maybe she was making this too complicated when the answer was simple.
Maybe the drain came because he did care, because he did want to share with her. Because he did love her. Maybe he was backing off to protect her, had tried to leave her behind to keep her safe the way Leo had suggested. And maybe the reason he kept distancing himself was because she was trying too hard to get him to come closer, because she wanted to love him. Perhaps she was unintentionally making it difficult for him to talk to her, to be around her. Because he sensed her love and it made him want to return it. But he couldn't. Because of the curse, because of Chaos. Chaos who had threatened to kill her as fulfillment of the curse. The curse that had started with Lucrecia, made into a reality by Hojo.
Maybe it wasn't unrequited love the way she'd believed in Costa Del Sol. Maybe it was just cursed love. Strangely, instead of making her feel better, this made her feel worse. It wasn't that he didn't love her; it was that he didn't want to. This way, she had no chance. No chance, unless, by some miracle, he survived the exorcism of Chaos. And that was a weak gamble at best, because the fates were already stacked against them.
Elira closed her eyes, offering up a prayer to anyone who was listening: Please, forgive us. Please give him -- give us -- a second chance.
Vincent and Elira made their way off of the boat and onto the shore, dodging the men who were hefting crates onto work- and sun-weathered shoulders to carry them to the truck. A couple of the younger men smiled at her. She returned the smiles weakly, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. Though she had sensed that Leo had meant no harm, she couldn't sense the same of these men, these strangers. They reminded her too much of Terry who she hadn't been able to trust for a year after meeting him.
The noise of the unloading was left behind as they traveled on foot up the dirt road that led to what had hastily been named Bone Village because of the excavation that went on there. Over the years, it had developed into more than a mere excavation site, now sporting a small community of the scientists and their families; however, the name hadn't been changed. It took a long time for things to change on this continent.
The village had been erected in an obviously ramshackle way; buildings that had been created out of the rock and wood available stood with no visible pattern on the dusty white stone base where no grass grew. At the center of the village was a large pit with ladders leading down: the excavation pit. A group of children played nearby, kicking a dust-covered ball between themselves in a happy game Elira couldn't remember the name of. Their shouts echoed through the air over the omnipresent sound of pickaxes.
The first scent Elira ran into, besides that of the chalky dirt made more noticeable by the rain, was the smell of barbecued food wafting over from a small restaurant whose owner seemed to think he or she could make a living out here. It made her stomach rumble, reminding her that she hadn't eaten in several hours. She noticed that Vincent had gained a few steps on her while she had been looking around. Quickly, she dashed up beside him.
"Vincent," she addressed him, "do you mind if we stop here to eat?"
Vincent didn't reply, but he did stop walking. She couldn't tell from his posture or expression if he was displeased about the delay. But she had to eat, and she would have to sleep when the time came. Even so, as she headed for the restaurant, Elira promised him silently that she wouldn't be long.
The tiny restaurant was almost empty and Elira was served quickly. As she was eating, a man who looked to be in his early forties, thin with brown hair and a clipped mustache, appeared at her elbow, carrying a plate of food. As she noticed him, he smiled.
"Do you mind if I join you?"
Elira's first inclination was to say that she just wanted a peaceful meal, but the thought of perhaps getting some information on the area made her change her mind. "By all means," she answered, indicating the chair across from her at the small, circular table she occupied.
"Thank you." Putting his plate down at his place, he lowered himself into the chair. And then he smiled again at her, a friendly smile. "I've never seen you around here before. Just come up, or just leaving?"
"Just come up," Elira replied once she'd finished her latest bite of food.
The man nodded. "We actually don't get that many newcomers up here. People are afraid of this place."
"So I've noticed."
One side of the man's mouth quirked up. "Had a little trouble finding a way here, did you? Well, yes, it took me a little finagling with my wallet before I was able to employ a man to float me up." He paused to put a forkful of food into his mouth and then to chew it. And then he gave a start, dropping his fork to extend his hand. "How rude of me. I'm Mason Lasling, presently unrecognized anthropologist."
Elira smiled, taking his hand and shaking it. "Elira Maddison."
Mason nodded once, reclaiming his hand. "Nice to meet you. So, what field of study are you in?"
"Um." Elira frowned, poking at her food thoughtfully. "I'm a historian, specifically interested in the Cetra." It wasn't a complete lie, but Elira still felt a little guilty about using Leo's persona to explain herself. It felt as if she'd taken so much from him already.
"Ah." Mason returned his attention to his plate long enough to take another bite. "Visiting the city, I assume."
Elira nodded, putting another morsel of her meal into her mouth.
"Then I assume you've heard the news about that forest, what used to be called the Sleeping Forest."
Elira bit the inside of her lip, unsure if a show of her ignorance about this area would blow her cover. "I'm not sure."
Mason didn't seem to think it odd that a historian of the Ancients didn't know something about one of the most mysterious and mystical regions on the continent. "Well, I come up here for a few months out of every year to do some research and last year it was discovered that one could travel through the forest without having to 'wake it up'. Some say that, since all of the Cetra are dead, their power is fading from the world."
Elira felt herself pale. Their power was fading? Did that mean the power she and Vincent had been trusting to be there for the casting out of Chaos might be fading out of existence?
Mason must have noticed the shock in her silence, frowning a little in concern. "Ms. Maddison? Are you all right?"
Flustered, Elira nodded. "Yes, I'm fine, thank you." She bowed her head to her plate, picking at her food, suddenly not very hungry.
"You looked a little ill for a moment. Here, have a sip of water." He picked up the glass to the left of her plate and offered it to her. She took it with a grateful smile and took a sip, irritated to find that her hands were unsteady. The coolness of the water calmed her, though, and she sighed, setting the glass down again.
"I'm sorry. It's been a long trip and I guess I'm a little tired."
"That's understandable. If you like, I might be able to get you a ride to the city. I've hooked up with a few colleagues and we were all going to go together in a vehicle."
The offer was very tempting. A ride would probably cut a day from their journey. In fact, if Mason and his companions were leaving today, they could be there by that evening. But, what of Vincent? He'd said that the closer they came to the city, the more dangerous Chaos would become, the more unpredictable. Therefore, it might not be a good idea for them to accept the ride. It would put some strain on Vincent, and if he did transform...she didn't want to think of the carnage that could result. But even if she was able to drug him before anything happened, she would no doubt be bombarded by fearful questions by the others in the vehicle. And, if she was unable to answer acceptably, Vincent's life could be put in danger. Grieving the loss of what time they could've saved, Elira shook her head.
"Thank you, but no. The forest is one of the places I would like to explore."
Mason shrugged. "Suit yourself." He finished off what was on his plate and stood. "It was a pleasure meeting you Ms. Maddison. Perhaps we'll meet in the city."
Elira smiled. "Maybe." Inside, however, she was a little worried. She hadn't anticipated the sudden remembrance of the Forgotten City after the rising of Sephiroth the Mad. She wondered how many people would be there when she and Vincent arrived to banish Chaos. She hoped not many. Casualties because of the demon right at the end of their journey after everything Vincent had endured so far seemed somehow unfair.
But, was fate concerned with what was fair?
Elira slapped angrily at another mosquito that had landed on her neck and pulled her collar up further, holding it tightly in her fingers. Predictably, one of the pesky bloodsuckers landed on her hand, sticking its needle into her skin even as it touched down. With an infuriated sigh, she shook her hand to dislodge it. One buzzed by her ear and she ducked away, swinging at it with a gesture that nearly unbalanced her. Clumsily, she regained her footing, cursing loudly.
Vincent stopped walking and turned to look at her from where he stood a few feet in front of her.
"These mosquitoes are drinking me dry," she muttered irritably as she paced up to him, as if he wouldn't have been able to see it for himself. Vincent didn't reply, beginning to walk again as she reached him, facing forward silently. Elira did her best to keep up. As she waved another of the bugs away from her nose, she realized that the annoying insects weren't pestering Vincent at all. She had yet to hear him smack one from his skin.
"What's your secret?" she asked him suddenly. "Why are they all attacking me?"
It was a moment before he replied. "It is your scent."
"My scent?" Elira asked, brushing a mosquito from her sleeve. "But I don't wear perfume."
"You're skin has a..." He stopped speaking for a moment. Elira looked up at his hesitation and he glanced at her as if a little flustered. "...a distinctly sweet smell." He cleared his throat a moment later, quickening his pace almost imperceptibly.
Elira felt a flush climb her neck. An itchy prick on her arm, however, drew her attention away from her thoughts and she struck at it savagely. A small spot of blood on her jacket was all that remained of the mosquito.
Movement caught her eye and she glanced at Vincent to see that he was removing his long coat as he walked. A moment later, he stopped walking and looked in her direction, beckoning her with his eyes as he arranged the coat, holding it open in his hands. She approached him, turning her back to him as he directed and slipping out of her pack. He lay the coat over her shoulders.
"It may be a little warm," he said quietly, awkwardly easing her hair free of the heavy collar with his right hand, "but it ought to keep most of the mosquitoes away."
"Thank you," Elira managed to reply, though her tongue felt a little numb. She pushed her hands through the sleeves and pulled the long collar up about her neck. The inebriating smell of him coming off of the material made her ignore the thoughts wondering how silly she looked draped in his huge, black coat. Once she'd replaced her pack, she turned to him slowly and smiled. "Thank you, Vincent," she repeated.
He gave a slight nod and Elira thought she saw a small smile twitch his lips. Before she could be sure, though, he turned from her, continuing to walk. Elira followed quickly, hearing her blood rushing in her ears.
As she came up beside him again, she asked, "So, uh, you and Avalanche walked through here ten years ago?"
Vincent didn't reply immediately. Elira was lowering her head, submitting to the fact that the momentary lapse of distance wasn't going to be continued, when he answered her in a soft voice, as if the trees could be listening. "This forest was very different ten years ago. One thing I recall from our trip through it was the prevailing silence. There was no wind in the leaves above us, no wildlife to be seen. It was called the Sleeping Forest for good reason, though it felt as if it was watching more than sleeping, like a guardian. It held a magic designed to confuse travelers in order to keep strangers away from the city." He glanced around momentarily as if noticing for the first time how the area had changed. "The magic seems to have worn off since, however."
Elira was tempted to tell Vincent about the theory presented by Mason, that magic was fleeing the planet now that the Ancients were gone, but decided against it. The power would be there, or it wouldn't. There was no need to inform him of the odds.
The air in the forest was nearly stifling. Though the temperature wasn't very high, the ground was sodden and the atmosphere muggy, causing Elira to sweat although her body, especially her feet and hands, were cold. It was an odd feeling and she wished she was still wearing her shorts so that some of the sweat could evaporate, even as she was grateful for the warmth of Vincent's coat. She pulled the heavy material closer around her, making sure to keep her hands hidden within the sleeves, as a mosquito buzzed somewhere nearby.
Beneath the trees it was a little difficult to determine the passing of time. The sun was only visible in flickering chinks of light that managed to slip through stirring leaves. As it set, however, the forest began to darken and turn cooler, and many of the noises of wildlife quieted. Elira found herself huddling further and further into Vincent's coat, her eyes beginning to strain in the dimness for the roots and fallen branches she'd been able to see easily and avoid earlier in the trip. Vincent steadily became less and less visible before her, blending in with the melting shadows of the trees, his silent footfalls sometimes giving her the illusion that she was alone.
She wasn't tired, due to the nap she'd had on the tug boat on the way over. This threw her idea of the passing hours off further, as did the fact that she'd spent time in Costa Del Sol and had forgotten that it was the colder season now in some parts of the world. In this season, the sun set earlier, quicker, bringing total darkness around before a person was prepared for it.
Elira was surprised when she looked up from her barely visible feet and realized that she could see almost nothing in front of her. She listened for Vincent, hoping to hear a boot heel crunch on a dying leaf or a fragile twig. But there was nothing. She glanced around, as if to catch some glimpse of something, anything, but even the silhouettes of the trees had bled into the void where no moon or stars were discernible beneath the tight canopy of leaves. Her own breath seemed loud in her ears as she began to realize that she was, for all purposes, lost. For all she knew, she could've wandered away from Vincent and not even known it. Maybe this forest did have a little magic left in it after all...
"Vincent?" she called out. There was no answer. Elira sighed to control the nervous quivering of her stomach, hoping she would not have to set up her tent where she was and wait by herself for daybreak amongst what animals this forest supported that did their hunting at night. "Vincent!" she called again, this time a little louder.
"I'm here," came his momentary reply from somewhere in front of her.
A warm rush of relief swept over her. She thought she'd never been happier to hear his voice. "We're going to have to stop. I can't see a thing."
Vincent didn't say anything to her statement, but Elira felt him draw closer. "Would you like some help raising your tent?"
Elira was surprised by his thoughtfulness, like she'd been surprised when he'd gone out of his way to capture those chocobos so that she would have a chance to take a rest from walking. "Yeah, sure. Thank you."
Elira slipped out of her pack and, bunching up the dangling sleeves of Vincent's coat, unhitched the collapsible tent. With Vincent's aid, she was able to set it up without too much difficulty, and soon she was huddling inside, holding blankets to her chin and rubbing her socked feet together in hopes of returning warmth there.
Vincent lowered himself to the ground outside of Elira's tent, silently unholstering his gun and holding it in readiness in his right hand. There was still a little danger in this forest, a little magic; he could sense it.
When Elira had called his name, he'd turned to see what she wanted only to find that she was nowhere to be seen, even with his enhanced eyesight. Her voice had seemed to come from a great distance, also, as if she'd been talking from the other side of a wall. He'd approached in some confusion and distress. When she'd called out again, he'd quickened his pace, following her muffled voice in hopes of somehow finding where she'd gone, though he'd suspected that something was deeply amiss. The peace of this forest had disturbed him greatly the first time he'd come through ten years ago, he remembered that. But, even though this time the eerie stillness was gone, he still felt a tension in the air, as if something was building, had been building from the beginning...
The way he felt that something was building in him concerning the silent Chaos...
As Vincent had searched the darkness with his red eyes, he'd heard Chaos speak for the first time since Costa Del Sol. One word: Yesss...
And then, Elira had been in front of him as if she'd always been there.
He didn't like it here. He didn't trust it. The magic was tainted with evil, an evil Chaos could use to its advantage. Vincent cocked the Peacemaker, his eyes ceaselessly searching the area.
Something was building. He could feel it like a pressure in his own body. And he wouldn't let it get the better of him.
No one had ever been able to get the better of Vincent Valentine, and he wasn't about to let it happen now...