Chapter Fourteen: Preparations
by thelittletree
Vincent didn't wonder where he was as he struggled to open too heavy eyelids, deadened with induced sleep. Elira's scent was everywhere, mixed with the smell of the forge that drifted up from the shop. He was in her apartment. Slowly, he moved his right arm, wanting to feel out the surface he was on. His hand bumped into corrugated material beside him and he ran his gloved fingers along it. The back of the couch in her living room, he assumed.
Then fingertips met his. Instinctively, he pulled his hand away. His eyelids slid upward and he found himself staring at a stucco design on the ceiling. A quick glance around the room revealed Elira, perched on the arm of the sofa, facing him. One of her hands was still outstretched along the back of the couch as if she was just waiting for him to reach up and take it. The evening light filtering between the buildings of Neo-Midgar shone softly through her balcony window, colouring everything a mellow orange. Her face glowed as if lit from within, and her expression was one of smiling relief. But she said nothing. He wondered how long she had been sitting in silence this way, just watching him, waiting for him to wake. If it was sunset already, he had been out for a more than a few hours.
After a couple of seconds, she slipped to the floor and moved to stand beside him. With a breath, he pushed himself up, and the room spun for a moment. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Elira lift a hand as if to help him up, but then she put it behind her back. "How do you feel?" she asked him quietly.
He slipped his legs over the side of the couch. His boots, again, had been removed. "As if I'd been put out with a dart full of sedatives."
Elira chuckled a little and sat down on the edge of her coffee table. "I've been working on my aim."
"So I noticed." She hadn't taken his bandana off. He rubbed his forehead underneath it with his fingers. "Where's Terry?"
"He's gone. But he might be back. He's not the type of person who gives up easily." Her mouth softened into a smile. "That was scary. For a second, I didn't know what to do."
"Did he hurt you?"
She shook her head. "No, nothing serious. I think Benita got the worst of it, a bump on the head." She rubbed hands together in her lap. In the next moment, they both began to speak at the same time. Elira laughed a little and gestured to him. "You first."
"I wanted to thank you, Elira. You may have saved me from something worse than death."
She smiled. "Well, now we're even." Then she turned her attention to her hands again. "I was going to say that it might not be a good idea for you to stick around."
Vincent felt a frown pull on his features. "What do you mean?"
She shrugged without looking up. "In case Terry decides to try that again. We might not be so lucky next time."
"Are you advising me to leave?"
"Well..." She struggled for a moment and then met his gaze. "Yes. But not alone. I'd come with you."
There was something she wasn't telling him. "Where would we go?"
She licked her lips and took a breath as if rehearsing something in her head. "I went back to the museum today and had the Cetra runes -- or ideograms, whatever -- translated." She paused for a moment before plunging ahead. "They said that there's a power even greater than demons, as only those of the city know."
Vincent recalled with vivid clarity the snarling screams of Chaos. "The Forgotten City," he murmured. The dead beauty of the city of the Ancients came instantly to mind.
Elira nodded. "Maybe it's a long-shot, but the way Chaos reacted makes me wonder if maybe...there's something there."
Vincent felt the spark of hope suddenly rekindle as he looked at the idea logically. Was it possible? The Cetra had been able to stop Jenova two thousand years ago. Perhaps there was some power that could help him. But there was a small flaw in the plan. He pursed his lips. "Elira, it could be a dangerous journey from here to the Northern Continent. There are still monsters and wild animals outside of the city."
Elira nodded again and dropped her eyes into her lap. "I know." He had the distinct impression that she'd already thought about this.
He hesitated a moment before continuing. "It might not be a good idea for me to take you with me."
She glanced up at him, smiling a little wryly. "I knew you were going to say that. But..." She began to rub her fingers again. "You're going to need someone."
He was out of sleeping pills and someone else would have to operate the tranquilizer gun. Maybe he wouldn't have to deal with Chaos at all, but if there was one thing he'd learned about the demon, it was that it was intelligent. Bloodthirsty and violent, yes. But it also had a mind. And, considering how it had responded to the runes, Vincent doubted it would think very highly of a trip to the Forgotten City. If it found out what he was up to, it might try to stop him by any means possible.
Which meant that it was probably safer not to go. But then, what would he do? Spend the next ten years hiding? Spend the rest of eternity alone? Was the risk worth it?
He glanced at Elira and thought about leaving, about never seeing her again, things he hadn't allowed himself to think about when he'd tried to leave the first time. It felt so good to have someone to talk to, he acknowledged. Especially someone who wasn't uncomfortable with his appearance and his occasional bouts of brusque reticence. Could he justify putting her in a position of danger? All of his reasons seemed inescapably selfish.
Then, as if she'd been partial to his thoughts, Elira began to speak. "If you were a part of Avalanche, I know you could watch out for me. I saw the way you dodged Terry's punch." Her wry little smile returned. "Though I suppose anyone could have done that, right?"
She was nothing if not persistent. "There are many other ways to learn how to fight and protect yourself."
She shrugged. "If you say so." She was still smiling. He momentarily entertained the thought of telling her that he had been a part of Avalanche, but then he waved it aside. He didn't want the question of his age to come up again. He didn't know how she would react if he told her he was approaching seventy. With a sigh, he began to push himself up from the couch. His legs wobbled underneath him and he sat down again. "Those darts are quite potent," he observed.
"They should be. I had Evan and the others bring you up from the forge, and he told me these darts were made to bring down dragons. He was surprised you weren't dead."
Vincent raised an eyebrow. "Chaos wouldn't be that easy to kill." He tried to stand again and managed it, keeping himself balanced with a hand on a nearby lamp. Elira stood beside him and he saw her fidget a little. Her eyes swept over the couch as if looking for something to straighten. He sighed. She was still waiting for his answer. "What would happen to your shop if you left?" he asked her.
She gave a small, abashed chuckle. "I already talked it over with Benita. She said she'd take care of everything."
Vincent thought about this for a moment. "What about the hunting season?"
Elira pursed her lips and glanced at him. "Well...I called Barret, too, and he said he knew of some people he could send up for as long as Benita needed them."
Vincent wasn't really surprised that she'd taken the initiative as if he'd already agreed, trying to make herself into the best candidate she could. After a moment, she reached into a pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. "I also wrote a list of things we might need. I used to go hunting with...with Eagan and his father when I was younger." She gave a small, convulsive swallow. "So I know a little about this."
He took the paper from her and was impressed with how thorough she had been, though he knew from experience that a number of the things one packed ended up without a use because they were the 'just in case' items. Still, it was better to be prepared. He handed the list back to her. "I also have some gil saved up," she continued.
But Vincent shook his head. "I have enough gil to take the both of us there."
Elira stared at him a moment. "The both of us?" she asked. Her eyes were shining hopefully.
Vincent nodded, hoping he wouldn't have cause to regret this decision. "If we're going to leave in the morning, we should probably get the supplies now."
She was smiling at him, genuinely happy. In that moment, as the sunset bathed her skin with an ethereal fire and her eyes glowed with something that seemed deeper than gratitude, he knew he'd never seen her look so beautiful. For a long few seconds he was unable to look away, but then he forced himself to turn from her. He was going to have to keep himself sternly in check, he realized, if she was going to be coming with him.
They went to the outfitter's first. As Vincent picked out the things they would need, adding a couple from memory, Elira noticed that he was only getting one tent. With a small chuckle, she pointed it out and quietly asked, "Are we going to share?"
Vincent shook his head. "I won't need one."
"Why not?"
"One of us will have to keep watch."
Elira frowned. "We can split the watches, can't we?"
Vincent opened his mouth to reply, and then seemed to change his mind. "I see I'm going to have to explain some things." He led her away from the counter and hesitated only a moment before saying, "Having Chaos in my body does more than simply heal me. It also makes food and sleep unnecessary."
Elira looked confused. "But, I've seen you eat and sleep before," she protested.
"Yes, but I don't need to. Some old habits are just hard to break."
"Eating is a habit?" She shook her head. "You know, one minute I think I've got a handle on all of this, and then you throw another curve into the pot."
"I'm sorry. I'm not used to having to tell anyone about this."
"I know." She gave him an apologetic smile. "I guess it's still taking a little time for this to sink in. It's hard to imagine you're that different than me."
Vincent was momentarily surprised by how pleased that made him. She was having trouble seeing him as different when others had struggled to see him as like them.
"Is there anything else you should tell me?" she asked him, and she was half-joking.
"Well." He paused to think. "My senses of sight, smell, and hearing are keener than those of an average human."
She raised her eyebrows. "Really?" And then she laughed. "Actually, maybe that explains why you like the dark so much, and why you don't make any noise when you walk."
He couldn't help giving a small smile. "It does make a difference." And then he walked back up to the counter to finish collecting what they would need, including some extra tranquilizer darts. After that, they went out to get a supply of rations that could be made into quick meals.
It was nearly nine o'clock when they parted for the evening. Running up the sidewalk, Elira managed to catch Benita before she locked things up. At the door, she hugged the older woman tightly, not even trying to pretend she wasn't crying. "Thanks, Beni, for everything. I'm going to miss you."
"God, I'm gonna miss you, too," Benita told her in a voice that was rougher than usual. "When do ya think you'll be back?"
Elira stood up and wiped her cheeks. "I don't know."
"I s'pose you still won't tell me what this's all about."
Elira smiled a little. "I told you, I'm going to help Vincent do something he needs to do. That's all I'll say."
Benita shrugged, grinning though her eyes were full of tears. "It was worth a try." She took a breath as if to compose herself. "Well, I guess I always knew ya weren't gonna stay 'round here forever. Someone like you don't belong in a place like Virna." Then she pulled Elira down and kissed her firmly on the cheek. "I love ya, Lir. Keep yerself safe." And then she left the shop without looking back. Elira was unable to shake the feeling that she was leaving her family behind.
That night, she went to stand on her balcony for the last time, a mug of tea in her hand. As the night air brushed cool fingers through her hair, she stared up at the stars and thought about what they would look like without the lights of Neo-Midgar to dim them. It had been so long since she'd been outside of the city.
A sudden breath of wind made her shiver and she shrugged a little further into her sweater. Life as she knew it was about to change, and she had a feeling it would never go back to the way it had been. Still, she had no compunctions about her choice. This felt right. If Vincent left without her, she suspected that she would always be left to wonder what had happened to him. And, somehow, she couldn't stand that thought.
Elira committed the view from her balcony to memory and thought about the last time her life had changed, when she'd moved from her home in Kalm to Penora as Mrs. Elira Dayle. Kalm was on their way, she realized a moment later. Would they stop there? She hadn't been back in almost three years. She struggled to picture the ocean town in her mind and the memory of it touched her like icy fingers on the back of her neck. She shivered again. It was time to go in.
When she slipped into bed that night, she wondered what Vincent was thinking about. He wasn't the type to spend time staring sentimentally from his balcony. Would he even miss Neo-Midgar? She was inclined to doubt it.
It wasn't long before she was drifting off to sleep. Her last conscious thought was one realizing that this would be her last sleep in her own bed for what might be a long time...
Vincent stood from his closet, hefting the only thing left of any value left in his apartment: a box of the assorted guns he'd collected over the years. At his bed, he set it down and began to search through it, tossing various models aside as he hunted for one in particular. When he eventually found it, he lifted it up and checked to see if it was loaded. The Peacemaker. This was the only one that had survived from his time in Avalanche.
He set it aside with some extra ammunition and rifled through the box again for the holster. Once he'd belted it on, the feel of its negligible weight riding on his hips brought back a number of ten-year-old memories: flying in the Highwind, fighting battles, traveling on foot through towns and mountains and grassy plains alike. He picked up the Peacemaker again. Then, almost as an afterthought, he removed his glove. The metal was cool against his skin. Deftly, he flipped the gun around his finger before depositing it into the holster. It was all coming back; the training he'd received as a Turk had survived the latency of ten years. Even as it had survived the dormancy of thirty.
He spent that night on his bed, waiting with a strange sort of excitement for the dawn.