Chapter Eighteen: Secrets
by thelittletree
Elira was fairly sure within five minutes of waking that there were several small civil wars going on in her body.
Within ten, the one going on in her head was using cannons and the one in her stomach was using catapults.
She raised her head from the toilet bowl and waited a few moments to see if anything else was going to try and make a break for the outside world. When it seemed she was done for now, she stirred and flung a limp arm out to push the handle. As the toilet flushed noisily, she winced and dragged herself to her feet. The woman in the mirror looked terrible, with bloodshot eyes and pale, clammy skin. Elira scowled. "What the hell are you looking at?" she asked herself. And then she began to rinse her mouth out in the sink.
God, she hadn't had a hangover since her years as a teenager. Wearily, she turned off the water and lay her forehead on the cool counter with a moan. She'd forgotten how unforgiving they could be.
A black shape in her peripheral vision made Elira glance at the bathroom doorway. Vincent stood there, watching her impassively. She moaned again and turned her face away. "Don't look at me. I feel like hell."
"Drink some water. It will help."
She rubbed a twinging temple against the inside of her elbow. "I only had three beers, Vincent. Three, and not even on an empty stomach. That tells you how long it's been since I've gone out drinking." She sighed, realizing that she was rambling. "How did I get back here, anyway?"
Vincent didn't answer immediately. After a moment, Elira turned to look at him and was surprised by the rigid set of his jaw; the red eyes she met with her own gave nothing away. "I brought you back," he replied finally.
Elira cringed and took a breath. "God, I'm sorry. I didn't do anything, did I?"
His expression became unusually guarded. "Do anything?"
"Like vomit on your boots or something."
He seemed to relax a little and shook his head. Elira wondered what he thought she'd meant. "You just talked -- at length."
She chuckled softly and winced as her skull throbbed. Vincent disappeared from the doorway. When he reappeared, he was carrying a glass of water. Elira moved to sit on the lid of the toilet and took the drink gratefully. "Thanks." She sipped at it slowly. And then she stared at her socked feet. "Did you take off my shoes and coat, too?"
He paused a moment before nodding. "You've done the same for me."
She smiled a little and put the cool glass to one cheek. "Thank you for bringing me back. I'm sorry I went out and got drunk."
He raised an eyebrow. "You don't need to apologize to me. I'm not the one with the hangover."
She smirked at him. "Are you always this funny, or only when I'm feeling awful?" She took another sip of water. "I don't want to delay our trip. I found out from my dad that there's a ferry docked in town, and it goes to Costa Del Sol every few days. We might be able to get something from there."
Vincent nodded. It was then that Elira realized how disheveled he looked; more so than usual. She frowned. "Are you okay? You look a little..." She made a gesture with her hand to indicate his clothes and hair when she couldn't find the word.
Almost self-consciously, he shrugged his coat back into place. "I went for a walk last night." And then he switched topics, though Elira couldn't tell whether or not it was done intentionally to prevent further questions. "Why did you go to the bar?"
She lowered her eyes. "I ran into Eagan's father on my way here. It just...brought everything back. His wife died." She looked into his face and found some comfort in the way he was listening. "She became sick after Eagan's death and never really recovered." Elira swallowed suddenly, feeling a lump in her throat. "I felt like...I'd killed her, too," she admitted quietly.
Vincent crossed his arms loosely over his chest. "People choose their own deaths. Eagan did, and so did his mother by dwelling on her dead son."
Elira curled a corner of her lip. "Does that mean Lucrecia did, too?"
Vincent dropped his eyes for a moment. "I suppose," he answered, though his tone had lost its conviction.
With a hand on the counter, Elira pushed herself to her feet and smiled at her companion. "Thanks for the drink, I'm feeling a little better. I think I'm going to have a shower now."
Vincent nodded and stepped out of the doorway to leave her to it.
The hot water worked wonders for her headache, and by the time she was rinsing her hair she was feeling much better. The woman in the mirror now looked a little more presentable. And then, as she was staring at herself and drying off with a towel, she remembered a dream she'd had the night before.
At least, she thought it was dream. Parts of it had seemed so real...
It had been a dream of Eagan, a dream that he was making love to her. Or at least preparing to. The memory of those lips gliding across her skin, his breath tickling the fine hairs on her neck, was still so vivid she could almost feel it again.
But then he'd withdrawn, and despite her pleas that he stay, he'd left her alone. It was just the same old history.
She dressed in some clean clothes from her pack and then went looking for Vincent. She found him looking out of the living room window. The sun was barely up. Wordlessly, she slipped up beside him. "Another sunny day, I'll bet," she observed.
He nodded. And then he glanced at her and she got the impression that he had something to say. She moved to face him.
"Elira..."
The sound of someone coming down the stairs made them both turn, and from where they were standing they could see Cloud when he entered the kitchen, dressed in a wife-beater and a pair of faded jeans. He glanced at them and gave a brief, tired smile before stepping out of sight again.
Vincent continued to stare across the room. Elira cleared her throat quietly. "Vincent?"
He pursed his lips without looking at her. And then he sighed and dropped his eyes to the floor. "There's something I should tell you. In fact, I should have told you earlier."
"Yes?"
He swallowed visibly. "Chaos can enter my mind, and he can use my senses. I didn't know he could until the night before last. He's been speaking to me. He was curious about where I was going."
Elira licked her lips, afraid to ask where this was going. "Did you say anything...?"
Vincent glanced at her and his red eyes were direct. "No. But you did yesterday, when you mentioned the Forgotten City. That's why I transformed."
Elira felt her jaw fall open in dismay. "Oh...oh no. God, I'm..."
"Don't apologize," he interrupted her softly, glancing back across the room. "It wasn't your fault. I should have told you."
Still, Elira couldn't help feeling guilty. "So, now it's going to try to stop you?" she asked, though she already knew the answer. "Is it in your mind right now?"
Vincent shook his head a little without looking at her. "He hasn't been in my mind since yesterday. The dart may have pushed him out, I'm not sure. Forcing a transformation may drain him more than when he waits for a moment of weakness." He sighed deeply. "Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea..."
Elira lifted her chin at this. "Don't start with that. I know you don't really want to run away and hide somewhere. Someone who went up against Sephiroth and Jenova shouldn't be afraid of dealing with a few hurdles, should he?"
Vincent's head snapped around at this and Elira almost laughed at the unmitigated surprise on his face. "I tricked Cloud into telling me," she explained.
Vincent's expression became one of rueful resignation, though she thought she saw one of the corners of his mouth twitch. "None of my secrets are safe from you," he said, and the tone of his voice was almost a little mournful.
She grinned. "Apparently not. You must've been just a teenager back then. Unless you're older than you look." She cast him a sly glance, daring him to explain himself.
But Vincent was a little lost for words, and before he could form a reply there was a knock at the front door. Elira glanced out the window again but from where she was standing she couldn't see anyone.
Cloud entered the room, running a hand through his hair to belatedly groom himself. "If you guys want some coffee, it's almost ready," he told them as he walked to the door. "And you can help yourselves if you're hungry."
"Thanks," Elira told him. Coffee sounded good right about now. A few steps from the kitchen, however, something she heard made her stop in her tracks.
From over her shoulder, she'd heard Cloud open the door, but she hadn't been paying attention to the conversation that followed until a gruff voice suddenly shouted, "Look, Strife, if you're not going to take care of it, we are! I know it's here; there's the bitch it came to get at Ermine's last night!"
Elira turned suddenly and found herself staring past Cloud at the man from the bar, recognizable even if she couldn't see his scar at the moment. His face was contorted with a bitter scowl as he glowered at her. Then her eyes were drawn to the left of the door, where Vincent was still standing. He looked angry and Elira began to search through her mind for the location of the tranquilizer gun.
The man seemed ready to charge into the house, and she could hear the voices of men behind him. But Cloud had placed his hands on both doorjambs, blocking his way. "Get out of here, Lud. You smell like whiskey."
"Fuck you," the man, Lud, growled. "You think you're such a hot-shot, think you can do whatever you want. Well, I care about this town. This is my home, has been for more than twenty years, and I'm not gonna let some...punk keep me from protecting it!"
"You don't even know what you're talking about." There was a kind of deadly calm to Cloud's words and Elira recalled the brusque loyalty he'd shown to Vincent yesterday afternoon when she'd come asking after him. She had the feeling that he wouldn't think twice about putting himself in danger to protect his former comrade.
"I know you've got a monster in there, and it doesn't deserve to live," Lud seethed. "You don't want to make me your enemy, Strife. I've got a lot of support in this town."
"A lot of support? It looks to me like three men with kitchen knives."
"This isn't a kitchen knife." And he pulled out a gun.
Just as quickly, Cloud disarmed him. He spent a moment looking at the weapon. "Nope, this is a gun," he observed. "A cheap one, too."
Lud suddenly looked a little shaken. "Gimme that back."
Cloud seemed to spend a moment thinking. "No, I'm going to keep it for awhile," he replied placidly in a voice that bridged no opposition. "And then, when you've slept for a couple of hours and taken a bath, maybe I'll let you have it back. Now, get out of here. My wife and kids are still asleep, and I don't want all of your shouting to wake them up."
Lud looked mad enough to burst. "Goddamn asshole. You're going to regret this." And then he turned and walked out of sight. Cloud shut the door and, breathing a weary sigh, unloaded the gun. He then slipped the bullets into a pocket and hid the gun in a drawer.
"Who was that?" Elira asked.
Cloud shrugged and was about to reply when Vincent strode suddenly across the room and out of sight down the hallway, his face an emotionless mask. Cloud frowned a little, but didn't say anything. Elira had the distinct impression that Vincent's anti-social behaviour was something he'd just accepted.
"That was Lud," Cloud told her and Elira glanced at him from where she'd been staring after Vincent. "He tried to run for mayor the year Tifa and I moved here, and when he lost he blamed it on me." He shrugged again. "He's not really dangerous, just angry. Every once in a while he comes up with an excuse to show up at my door with a gun."
"Oh." She glanced at the mouth of the hallway again. "I think I'm going to make sure Vincent's all right."
Cloud waved his unnecessary permission and left for the kitchen.
Vincent was in the room with the door closed and the lights off. Elira found him seated on the bed, staring with an idle sort of fascination at his metal arm. She came to stand in front of him. He didn't look up.
"Vincent, what's wrong? Were you getting angry?"
He shook his head. "There are still things you don't know about me," he said quietly in a hollow voice.
It wasn't the response she'd expected. "What are you talking about?"
He glanced up at her and his red eyes glowed, hard and spiteful, in the dimness. Elira felt a strange tingle of fear on the back of her neck. "You don't know me, Elira," he said in a cold, soft voice. "You may think you do, but you don't. You don't know anything about my life before Chaos, unless Cloud told you that!" His tone was suddenly harsh and angry.
She swallowed and tried to hold on to her composure. "All I know from Cloud is that you were in Avalanche. That's all he told me. What are you so angry about?"
As quickly at it had come, his anger faded. "I haven't lived a good life, Elira. I've never been a good person. I've never had many friends." He glanced into her face. "There are times I've believed that Chaos is a manifestation of what I am on the inside."
Elira scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous."
He stood abruptly from the bed and Elira took an instinctive step backward. "Don't say that," he told her roughly, glaring with a muted rage. "You don't know what I've done. Don't pretend to know. You may know about Lucrecia, but that was only the last of a host of sins. I was a monster long before Hojo's experiments!"
Elira stared at him, startled by the outburst. Where had this come from? Was it because of that man, Lud, calling him a monster?
Vincent was watching her closely with a grim determination, as if her expression would prove him right or wrong. And then he seemed to realize that he was making her uncomfortable. With a sigh, he sank back down onto the bed. "I'm sorry, Elira. Forget what I just told you. It's nothing you need to concern yourself with."
Elira felt a kind of frustrated pity for him. "Vincent, I don't care about your past. I really don't. You always seem to be looking out for me; a monster wouldn't do that. And you have a conscience, and a sense of humour. You're definitely not a monster."
He glanced up slowly to look her in the eye, as if afraid to see that she was lying. She smiled warmly at him. "And nothing you could tell me about your past would make me think otherwise," she told him.
He suddenly looked desperate to believe her. She had to fight the urge to follow her words up with a tight, reassuring embrace.
After a moment, he dropped his gaze back to his prosthetic arm. "I think I want to be alone for a little while," he said quietly.
Elira sighed silently. "Okay. I'm going to go find the ferry port and ask someone when the next one is leaving."
He nodded without glancing up.
'What could he have done in his past?' Elira wondered as she went to ask Cloud for directions. Vincent had said he'd lived in Midgar for a few years, and it had been a city rife with misery: inescapable crime, senseless murders for money and power perpetuated by Shinra itself. Was it so strange to think he might have been involved in something illegal? Maybe even immoral?
So, maybe he had been, in his youth, what people would've called a monster. But the man she saw now, an unglorified hero of the planet, was completely human.
Only humans could feel regret.