Chapter Twelve: Old Friends, New Friends
by thelittletree
Elira glanced at Trodder as he parked the car outside of the hospital. He looked a lot like his brother, she mused, though with darker hair and a rounder face, and he wore beard. But there was something about him that seemed older; was it the responsibility that came with being a father? Trodder flashed her a smile when he noticed her glance and opened the door to get out. Elira opened her own door and stepped onto the sidewalk. Benita came up beside her after a moment, putting her hands on her hips as she let wary eyes examine the building.
"Are ya sure ya wanna do this, Lir?"
Elira nodded without hesitation. It wasn't so much that she wanted to do it as she felt obligated to. Terry had always been there for her. She owed him this visit at least, when he was probably feeling at his worst. She owed him something for all of the effort he'd put into trying to get to know her. And, who knew, maybe they'd be able to start their friendship afresh.
The hospital was cold and sterile, smelling of antiseptic and floor polisher, just like Elira knew it would be. She remembered it all unconsciously from the times she'd visited her mother as a girl. The sights and smells had only added to her fright as she'd watched, numb and confused in a chair, while her father had held her mother's limp hand by the bed and wept like a child.
The day her mother had died, the scent of antiseptic had been so strong it had made Elira vomit.
As they arrived at the room Elira smoothed down her shirt, maybe a little out of nervous habit. It had been weeks since she'd seen Terry, and to say that they hadn't parted on very good terms was an understatement. From beside her, Benita noticed her unease and slipped a reassuring arm around her waist. Grateful for the comfort, Elira tried to smile at her friend before following Trodder into the room.
Terry lay propped up on an adjustable hospital bed, surrounded by a desert of white. Elira was unable to look at him for a few seconds, almost afraid of what she would see. Benita had said he'd lost an eye. Finally, she mustered the courage to look at her old friend.
Terry's face had been distorted by weaving lines of dark scarlet stitching. One line ran down from his left temple to his jaw, and another ran from his forehead into a white bandage over the eye, emerging again to scar a crooked nose. Patches of his hair had been shaved off to allow stitching to continue into his hairline. There was also a streak of crimson that started from the right side of his neck and traveled down under the collar of his hospital gown. Elira tried her best not to gape. At first, she was inclined to believe that they had walked into the wrong room, but then she began to recognize Terry beneath the injuries. It was his hair, his eye-colour, the shape of his face. There was no mistaking him.
She swallowed, feeling her stomach turning sour.
"Hey, Terry," Trodder began, walking around the bed to put a hand on Terry's shoulder. "How are you, today?"
Elira noticed that Terry's one-eyed gaze had not left her face since she'd entered. It disturbed her a little to see the intensity there though she could read nothing from his expression.
"I'm fine, Trod. Thanks for bringing Elira. Would it be possible for me to talk to her alone for a few minutes?"
Elira was surprised by the urge she had to protest.
"Sure." Trodder left Terry's side and walked up to Benita. "Come on, Beni."
Benita didn't look at him, standing stoically beside Elira like a faithful bodyguard.
Trodder's expression softened a little and he glanced at Elira. "Would you?"
Elira almost wanted to argue for Benita to remain, but then decided against it. She'd come to visit Terry and perhaps patch things up, not to fight with him. "I'll be all right, Beni."
Benita looked at Elira for a moment as if gauging how serious she was before accompanying Trodder out the door. Elira felt, strangely enough, as if she were being left alone with a hungry lion.
She tried not to fidget under Terry's scrutiny, which she could feel like a hot pulse on her face as she stared at her hands. Finally, as if suddenly noticing her discomfort, Terry began to speak.
"Well, Elira, these weren't the exact circumstances I had pictured us next meeting in."
Elira couldn't help a soft chuckle. "Ditto."
"But, still, I'm glad it was me instead of you so that I could at least warn you."
Elira frowned and looked up. "What are you talking about?"
Terry glanced around with his one eye as if he thought someone might be lurking in a corner. And then he beckoned to Elira. Hesitantly, she approached and sat on the bed beside him as he directed. Then he placed his fingers on her hand as if to comfort her, but the touch only served to increase her unease. She had to fight the urge to pull away.
"Elira, you may not believe what I'm about to say, but I want you to try, okay? I'm telling you for your own safety."
Elira tried to keep her eyes on his face, but after a few moments she dropped her gaze to the sheet. The scarring was horrible. Just imagining the original wounds made her cringe. "Okay."
"You heard that I was attacked by an animal, right?"
Elira nodded, still looking at the bed.
"That's what everyone assumed. These injuries couldn't have been made by anything other than the claws of a bloodthirsty beast, right?"
Elira nodded again, wondering what Terry was getting at.
"Well, it wasn't a wild animal that did this to me."
Elira met his gaze, puzzled. "What do you mean? Did someone attack you with a knife?"
"No, not with a knife. With claws, Elira. It was some kind of demon-creature, with wings."
Elira stopped breathing, suddenly afraid to move in case it would give something away.
Terry seemed to take her abrupt stillness as an expression of horror. "Yes, a demon, Elira. You have to believe me. But, there's also more."
"More?" Elira was dismayed at the quiet gasp her voice had become. She swallowed noisily. 'No more...don't let this be what I think it is...'
"Yes. It wasn't a demon at first. It was human."
Elira shut her eyes, as if that would block out the truth she knew was coming.
"It was Vincent, Elira. Vincent attacked me. I know it's hard for you to believe, but I'd always figured there was something...wrong about him. I just never thought it would be something this...horrific. He could come after you next. I want you to get rid of him, fire him, stay away from him. He's dangerous."
Dangerous. Elira recalled the word, used so many times by Vincent to describe himself. The beast that he transformed into had totaled his apartment, had chased after that teenager with a cold, merciless bloodlust. And had attacked Terry. She wondered if the conclusion to Terry's injuries had been what she'd found on the floor of Vincent's bedroom almost two weeks ago.
Elira continued inspecting her hands, unsure of what to say. She hadn't been expecting this news. She'd thought Terry wanted to apologize. But, no. Maybe Terry figured that if Vincent was pushed out of the picture he could start up with her where they'd left off. Or take Vincent's place.
"You don't believe me, do you?"
She glanced up into his face and made herself meet the gaze of his one eye. "No, I do believe you, Terry." She bowed her head, resuming her study of her hands. "I just thought you wanted to talk about our fight and, you know, patch things up. We've been friends for so long..."
Terry gave a sudden incredulous scoff. "What? I can't believe this! I'm telling you that one of your employees is a raging monster and you're worried about a little argument we had? That's old news, Elira!"
Elira glanced up sharply. "So is the news about Vincent! I already know about...what he is."
Terry's expression became one of confused shock. "You already know? How?"
"It happened a couple of days ago. Someone attacked us and he transformed."
Terry stared at her as if he wasn't sure whether to believe her. "And he didn't hurt you?"
"Obviously not."
"Well, where is he now?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. His apartment probably."
"Have you fired him? Have you told the police or anything?"
"No."
"Why not? He's dangerous!" His gaze narrowed suddenly. "Are you in love with him, Elira?"
Elira felt the heat of old arguments spark in her blood. "What does that have to do with anything?"
Terry's expression hardened with cold rage. "Have you slept with him?"
Elira shot up from the bed. "That's none of your business!"
"You have!" he accused her, his face contorting with spiteful jealousy. "You stupid slut! Don't you realize that he could kill you?"
That was the last of it. It was all she could take. Shaking with bottled fury, she turned on her heel and started for the door.
"Dammit! Elira, wait!"
"No, Terry." She didn't look back, but she stopped at the door for a moment. "I'm sorry this happened to you but I've got to go. I've got to talk to Vincent." And then she fled.
On the verge of tears, Elira ran down the hall. The scent of antiseptic was so strong it was choking her. She couldn't breathe. She managed to get to the ladies' room and push her way into one of the stalls before vomiting up the painful knot of tears and anguish that was churning in her stomach. And then she sat wearily beside the toilet, sobbing, until Benita found her nearly twenty minutes later.
Vincent arrived at the door to the shop at one o'clock, as agreed. Elira was silent as she accompanied him to the train station. As they rode together in the stifling stillness of the car, Vincent seemed to realize that there was something on her mind but he didn't pry. He did, however, cast a glance in her direction every once in a while. Elira pretended not to notice. She would wait until they were completely alone before saying anything.
The park was deserted. Despite her mood, Elira couldn't help but be in some awe of the place she had only ever seen in the dark of night. In the daylight it looked like a completely different park. No longer even the slightest bit menacing, it was simply unkempt and full of life. Birds fluttered into the trees at their arrival and squirrels scattered into hiding. The long grass bent beneath their steps and brown-barked boughs beckoned to them, inviting them.
Elira walked to the stump where she'd been working on her aim, looking at it under the eye of the sun. Broken shards of glass glinted vividly as she moved. When she looked up again she saw that Vincent was pushing his way through some underbrush to the right of the gate. Elira went over and followed him, urging scratchy branches away from her clothing. Eventually, she came out on the other side into another part of the park.
This had obviously once been a park for children. A corroding jungle gym sat in the middle of the area and beyond it lay an ivy-drenched slide. Closest was a rusted swing set. Elira sat down on one of the worn leather straps and, holding on to the russet chains, pushed herself with the toes of her sneakers. She stopped, though, at the horrible squealing of unoiled metal. Then she glanced around, hunting for Vincent.
He was nowhere to be seen. Frowning, she swept the park with her eyes. Where would he have gone? The sound of a creaking branch drew her gaze upward and she spotted Vincent seated nimbly on the lowest limb of an ancient tree growing nearby. The picture made her smile, but the smile faded after a moment when she remembered what she'd wanted to talk to him about. She cleared her throat. "I went to see Terry in the hospital today."
Vincent gave no reaction. Elira licked her lips, not sure how to continue without accusing him outright. "He's doing fine. He's always been one to heal quickly. A little surgery could probably remove the scars and his eye, I think, could be..."
"It was me."
Elira looked up at Vincent suddenly, caught off guard by his interruption. His red eyes stared down at her intently. "I attacked him as Chaos."
Elira looked back at her lap, relieved that he hadn't made her spell it out, and shaken by his confession though she'd known already. After a moment, she found her voice. "Why did you do it?"
Vincent hesitated so long that she eventually glanced up. But he wasn't looking at her. He was staring over her head with expression that was carefully blank. When he did eventually speak, his voice was calm and almost toneless as if he didn't want to mar the story with any undue emotion. "Terry was waiting for me at the train station. He wanted to fight, but he was obviously drunk. I ignored him. As I was getting ready to leave, however, he took a key out of his pocket and told me he was going to your apartment to..." He paused as if searching for the words. "...make love to you, whether you wanted him to or not."
Elira felt suddenly sick to her stomach. "He...he was going to rape me?"
Vincent met her eyes and there was a remembered rage there. "When I tried to stop him, Chaos took the opportunity to emerge."
Elira was unable to speak for almost a full minute. Terry wouldn't really have raped her, would he? She didn't know, but the very idea horrified her. Was that all it boiled down to after years of friendship? He didn't want her love, he just wanted control. When Elira finally regained her voice, it was shaky. "Then you went back to your apartment and took those sleeping pills?"
"It's the only way I've found to control it...Chaos."
"So it really is something completely separate from you."
Vincent nodded and looked away from her to stare at the ground.
Elira nibbled her bottom lip, thinking. "I remember that day with the teenager. I called your name and you...seemed to hear me."
Vincent sighed after a moment. "Well, I suppose I do have some control over it, enough to influence it at times. I am, however, a little out of practice." He gave a small, apologetic smile. "My apartment is evidence of that. Chaos fought me for every step I took toward taking those pills."
Elira licked her lips, feeling suddenly guilty. "Vincent, I'm sorry for what I said last night. You're not a coward, or a broken man. It has to take a lot of strength to fight against that demon, and a lot of courage just to keep living. If I was in your place, I think I would have tried to hide away long before now."
He shrugged a little. "Maybe this will be for the best."
"Maybe." She smiled at him and made herself comfortable on the swing-seat. "So, what happens? You get angry and...poof?"
He raised an eyebrow and Elira thought she saw his lips twitch suddenly as if to hold back a laugh. "Poof?" he repeated. "That's an interesting choice of words."
Elira couldn't help her chuckle. "I'm sorry. Not poof, then."
There was the hint of a smile on his face, but it faded after a moment. "It isn't just anger, it's too much of any negative emotion, or pain. Chaos can use these moments when my control is weak to...emerge."
"God." Elira stared down at her hands. "I can't imagine having to keep from getting angry all the time." It was one of her failings, her volatile temper. She'd gotten it from her father, and the two of them had had some of the most spectacular fights when she'd lived at home. She looked up at Vincent. He seemed to be staring thoughtfully into the distance. She cleared her throat. "So, where did this thing...Chaos, come from?"
Vincent glanced at her slowly as if he was hesitant to answer. "It's a nightmarish story," he warned her.
Elira shrugged. "If I'm going to help you, I want to know everything I can."
He seemed to consider her a moment before vaulting himself off of the branch and landing in a crouched position at the base of the tree. Elira watched him with wide eyes, and then couldn't help staring as he approached her. He'd been nearly ten feet from the ground!
He was smiling a little as he lowered himself onto the swing beside her. "Flying can teach you a few things about landing."
Elira forced herself to close her mouth.
Vincent slipped his hand up to rub at his forehead under the bandana. "The woman I loved was a scientist, as was her husband. Both of them were very interested in things like the Cetra and the afterlife, specifically the Promised Land."
At the mention of the Cetra, Elira was made to recall her history lessons in highschool. The Cetra were an ancient people who had nearly died out trying to seal away an evil in the planet more than two thousand years ago. But, despite their best efforts, Jenova had been discovered and had threatened the entire planet through General Sephiroth. If it hadn't been for Avalanche, more than Midgar would have been destroyed. The history had been so recently included in the teaching scheme that there were no books to read it from. Not much was ever said about Avalanche. It was rumoured that the members had asked to remain anonymous so that they could live out the rest of their lives in relative peace.
A sigh from Vincent brought Elira back out of her thoughts. "Her husband, however, had other projects his wife didn't know about. Projects that involved tampering with lives...for science and discovery."
Elira felt a tremor go through. "You mean...he did this to you?" she asked quietly.
Vincent didn't look up. "They were both working on an experiment at one point, one that was risking the woman's life. She..." He paused a moment and took a breath. "She didn't want to listen to me, so I went to confront her husband. I didn't count on how adamant he would be that there be no complications. He shot me."
Elira blinked in surprise. "He shot you? Where?"
"Through the heart," Vincent answered her matter-of-factly. "But I didn't die. When I woke up, he had somehow summoned some demons and put them into my body. They healed me of my injuries. Even now, I heal very quickly. That knife wound in my arm is already gone without a scar." He then held up his prosthetic arm without looking at her. "He gave me this later. I thought he was making me into a weapon, but he tired of me eventually and moved on to other things."
It took Elira a moment to realize that she was trembling. "Oh my god! So Chaos isn't the only one?"
Vincent shrugged a little, barely twitching his shoulders. "The others are gone now. I'm not sure why. But Chaos has stayed. Perhaps it absorbed the others."
Elira felt the pressure of tears behind her eyes. "Oh my god," she repeated. "That...that is nightmarish." Without really thinking about it, she raised a hand and lay it on his shoulder.
Vincent flinched away from the contact. Elira drew her hand back as if he'd slapped it. He frowned and looked at the ground. "I'm sorry," he apologized softly.
Elira shook her head and did her best to smile. "It's okay. I shouldn't have done that." She balled her hands together in her lap.
An uncomfortable silence followed. Eventually, Vincent got to his feet. "Would you like to take a walk?"
She'd been half expecting him to suggest that it was time for her to go. With a smile, she stood up beside him. "Sure. I've never seen much of MiraCletus."
It was a fairly quiet sector, she noticed quickly. Unlike Virna, someone had gone to the trouble of interspersing the paved sidewalks and streets with patches of grass and rows of trees. She wondered why there weren't more people out walking. Feeling her mood lifting as she breathed in the fragrant spring air and soaked up her sun-bathed surroundings, she commented to Vincent, "I can see why you want to live here. It's beautiful."
Vincent shrugged. "Frankly, it reminds me of a place I'd rather not remember."
Elira raised her eyebrows. "Then why not move to a different sector?"
"The rent here is lower than anywhere else in Neo-Midgar."
Elira laughed a little. "You skinflint."
Vincent didn't dignify that with a response.
Elira noticed a flock of pigeons feeding on the pavement and had to repress the urge to scare them all into the air. "I wonder what it was like in Old Midgar," she said suddenly, "to live under those plates and never see the sun or feel the rain or the wind."
"One became used to it after awhile. If you live without something for long enough, you eventually forget what it feels like."
Elira glanced surreptitiously at her companion, wondering if there were things he had forgotten how to feel. "Did you live in Midgar?"
"For a few years."
Elira pursed her lips. "Can I ask you something?"
Vincent glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "You need permission for this particular question?"
She grinned. "Maybe. How old are you?"
Vincent was silent for a long time. Eventually, Elira felt the need to explain. "I just wanted to know because...well, I've been wondering if you were a part of Avalanche. That was ten years ago, though, and you don't look like you're even thirty. I thought asking your age would probably clear up the question without me having to ask it outright." She chuckled a little uncomfortably. "You don't have to answer, of course. I was just curious."
And he didn't answer. Glancing up a few moments later, Elira realized that he'd been leading her straight to the train station. With a smile of graceful defeat, she said, "All right, you win. No more questions today. But don't think I won't try again."
Vincent merely smiled, and it was the closest thing to a full smile she'd seen from him. Elira thought he'd never looked quite so attractive and a part of her ached a little. To get her mind onto something else she checked the timetable. "There's a train due for Odriam in a couple of minutes. We could go to the univerisity library and see what information we can find. If he was a scientist, he must have published some reports."
"I doubt he would have published these reports."
"But he might've published something helpful. It's worth a try, at least."
Vincent thought about this for a moment before nodding. "All right."
It didn't take them long to get there. A taxi from the station in Odriam took them to the university and, from there, a student directed them to the library. It was a large building, seven floors high, and decked out with the latest technology. Elira approached a likely-looking man behind a desk and said, "Excuse me, where are your scientific reports?"
"Third floor," the man answered, barely glancing up from his computer, "on the shelves to your left."
"Thank you."
As they browsed through the compilations of data, Elira sidled up to Vincent. "It might help if I knew the name of this scientist," she told him.
"Professor Hojo," Vincent replied, not looking up from a volume he had in his hands. "At one time, he worked for Shinra."
Elira was suddenly taken back to the first night he'd taken the sleeping pills, when he'd had those episodes of sleep-waking delirium. "Hojo?" she asked. "And Lucrecia?"
He glanced at her sharply. "Where did you hear that?"
Elira chewed her lip for a moment. "From you actually, while you were under the drugs."
He stared at her for another second before turning back to the book. "That was the name of the woman I loved. Lucrecia." There was something in the way he said it, a kind of reverence, and Elira felt an unexpected pang of jealousy. A little angry at herself for feeling that way, she moved back to her original spot and resolved not to ask about the woman again.
They spent close to two hours looking through material, until Elira's arms ached from holding the heavy volumes while she stood, but there was nothing helpful. They'd found ten documents published by a Prof. H. M. Hojo, but they all concerned the properties of Jenova. Vincent looked like he'd expected as much. Elira felt frustrated.
"Maybe we should come back another time," she said. "Or we should check out another library."
Vincent didn't reply and Elira wondered at his thoughts. They hardly spoke on the train back to MiraCletus.
When Elira arrived back at her apartment, she started wondering if she might've gotten herself in over her head. It was true that she wanted to help Vincent, and not only so he wouldn't disappear from Neo-Midgar forever. But what was there to do, really, if they couldn't find any information? It wasn't like they were researching an illness. This was something supernatural that, if she hadn't seen it for herself, she probably wouldn't have believed. Who would have written documents about it besides this Professor Hojo?