Chapter Twenty-Five: The Omen of Rain
by thelittletree
Elira woke the next morning feeling tired and grumpy; Vincent had left her the evening before in a state not exactly conducive to sleeping and she'd tossed and turned for hours before finally drifting off. She'd managed to kick the blankets off in the night, but there was a heavy dampness in the air that had her feeling sticky and uncomfortable, and it only added to her sour mood. The gray sky out of the window foretold rain. She sighed a little before pushing herself up and out of bed.
Tifa's dress was rumpled on the floor and, feeling a twinge of contrition, Elira picked it up and tried to smooth the wrinkles out. She'd put it on for Leo, not sure what she'd been trying to do. Angry, frightened and rejected, not yet aware of her own feelings, she admitted to herself that she'd considered seducing him. It would have been wrong, and she would have regretted it bitterly in the morning when she returned to the villa to find Vincent already gone.
But she'd returned before the morning, in this dress, and had instead ended up seducing Vincent, whether she'd intended to or not. Though she wasn't sure it had been the right thing to do either. What had it gotten the both of them except frustrated and vulnerable to Chaos?
Vincent's things were still piled by the wall, so she felt safe in assuming he was still in the villa. That relieved her. With a sigh and a hand through her tousled curls, she went to her own pack and pulled out some clothes to wear to the washroom. Then, as an afterthought, she grabbed up the shirt Vincent had tossed away the evening before and draped it over her arm.
She made a detour through the front room and found him in the kitchen, sitting in a chair. He didn't look up at her as she entered, though she imagined he'd heard her coming; he'd probably even heard her stirring in the bedroom. Shirtless and hunched over with his elbows on his thighs and his fingers crossed between his knees, he looked like someone in the midst of a personal crisis and Elira wondered what he'd been thinking about all night. She felt an unexpected sting of guilt for having taken advantage of the desire she'd seen in his eyes last evening, and then she felt an old wash of anger because it wouldn't have happened at all if he hadn't tried to leave her behind, even if it was to protect her. Finally, however, she took a cleansing breath and stepped toward him, holding his shirt out like a peace offering.
"I'm sorry," she told him quietly after a second when he didn't move. "I know I probably shouldn't have touched you last night..."
He shook his head a little to stop her and some of his disordered hair slipped over his shoulders. After a moment, he reached for his shirt without meeting her eyes and slipped the sleeves over his arms. "Thank you," he said quietly as he began to do up the buttons.
"You're welcome." She stared at him a moment, not sure how, or if, she should continue. He'd waited for her; did it mean he'd changed his mind? She pursed her lips before deciding that the question couldn't be put off. "So, what are we doing? If there is a 'we' anymore."
He finally glanced up and met her eyes. "We go to the Forgotten City." And then he dropped his gaze back to his hands and she saw him twitch his metal fingers. "Chaos has been, subtly and not so subtly, encouraging me in my endeavor to leave you behind. I didn't start to wonder why until last night." He gave a small sigh and his expression tightened with self-depreciation. "I'm beginning to think he may know something about this that we don't; perhaps it takes two people." He pursed his lips and lifted his head again. "I think I may need to take you with me after all."
This made her feel another rush of anger toward him. After everything -- after having been abandoned in Costa Del Sol, after three weeks of miserable waiting, after having him threaten to hurt her -- it all came down, not to her feelings, but to what was best from what he could read from Chaos. Somewhere inside, she knew she should be happy that he was going to let her go with him, whatever the reason...but it was infuriating how inconsiderate he could be! She was just working up the energy to give him the scolding that had been building in her since she'd found the note in the bedroom when he spoke again, his expression suddenly filled with an almost painful-looking regret.
"I'm sorry, Elira," he apologized, and his voice cracked on her name. He cleared his throat and, though she saw his eyes dart away as if it was hard to meet her gaze, he made himself look at her again. "I'm sorry I hurt you yesterday, and I'm sorry I left you alone here. I'm sorry for everything." He made a small gesture with one of his hands. "And there's nothing I can do to make it up to you except continue putting you into danger..."
Her anger was melting away, being outweighed by a warmth that made her want to duck forward and kiss him to stop his words. Damn him for his inconsistency! In the end, she simply put two fingers to his lips. "Vincent, shh." And then she withdrew her hand until she was holding it out to him. "Friends again?"
The simple gesture seemed to touch him and his lips trembled with an old, familiar smile. He took her hand.
Elira shook it for a moment and then released his fingers. "There, now let's never speak of this again." It wasn't worth it to stay angry; in the interests of the journey, it was better to forgive and forget. And, if she was truthful with herself, she didn't want to spend the time they had left, if he was going to die, feeling mad at him. "I'm going to take a shower before we have to go. What are you going to do?"
He stared at her a moment longer as if surprised by the ease with which their camaraderie had returned. And then she thought she saw a kind of grateful relief in his eyes before he glanced down and picked at a lock of his hair. "Perhaps I'll cut these knots out."
Elira felt something tighten within her at the thought. No! His hair had become like a personality trait and she thought she'd probably miss it like she'd missed his smile and his sense of humour. "Oh Vincent, don't!"
He glanced at her, looking startled by her protest. "Elira, I can't wash it properly when it's tangled like this..."
"Well, just wait a minute." She ran into the bathroom and, after searching for a few moments, came up with some clippers. She then dipped into the bedroom for her own comb. When she returned, Vincent had a dubious eyebrow raised. "I'm not sure it's worth the effort."
Elira only smiled. "Just let me try. I'm not a barber's daughter for nothing, you know."
The knots were stubborn and some of them were nearly matted. Being as gentle as she could, she worked at them with both fingers and comb until some of them began to come loose. These tangles, she thought to herself, and the way he'd almost dealt with them neatly epitomized the way he seemed to deal with anything that risked emotional pain: if you run into a snag, it's easier to simply cut your losses than try to toil through it. She ran the teeth of the comb through a long, dark wave of hair and accidentally caught a snarl she hadn't noticed. Vincent hissed an intaken breath through his teeth.
"Sorry," she apologized, and her mind continued silently, 'Sometimes you have to risk a bit pain for something good.'
"It's all right," Vincent replied. "I expected it to hurt a little."
Elira smiled and continued. Maybe there was hope for him yet.
In the end, she was forced to cut some of the more unmanageable mats out, but when Vincent wrapped his hair back up in the bandana it was near impossible to tell that anything had been snipped away. Satisfied with her work, Elira went for a quick shower and then had something to eat. Twenty minutes later they were heading for the dock.
The tug and the barge were still there, barely visible as they floated in a blanket of humid fog. Nearby, two men stood talking. One of them was a short, squat man with permanently sun squinted eyes and an unlit cigar tucked into the corner of his mouth. He glanced up as they approached and muttered around the cigar, "C'n I help you?"
Elira went to speak, and was surprised when Vincent beat her to it. "We need to get to the Northern Continent."
The man studied them for a few seconds, rolling the cigar in his mouth, before he finally gave one short nod. "A'right. I c'n take you up there. Won't cost nothin', but you..." He indicated Vincent with a jerk of his chin. "You gotta leave yer gun with me."
Elira stared, wondering how the man had known Vincent was armed. Without a word, Vincent reached into his coat and unholstered his gun. The man took it from him and then spent a moment admiring it before gesturing toward the tug. "Go on. We're leavin' in a few minutes."
It started to spit as they stepped onto the small boat and Elira frowned at the sky. "After weeks of sunshine, now we get rain," she muttered. "I hope it's not some kind of omen."
Vincent took off the tent and his pack and gestured for her to remove her own gear. "We should leave these in the cab. It'll be drier in there."
Elira nodded and followed him to the house of the tug. After they deposited their things, however, she came back outside with him to stand at the rusty white railing. Unimpressed, the clouds continued to drip down on them. The way Vincent was standing, with his right hand fingering the empty holster the way one's tongue feels for a missing tooth, made her realize how easily she could fit against his side, sheltered beneath his long coat. After a moment, she turned her eyes away. "Where's Chaos?" she asked quietly.
Vincent took a breath as if coming out of his thoughts and shrugged a little. "I don't know. He hasn't been in my mind since..." He paused suddenly and Elira looked back at him. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and went on gamely, "Since last night."
"Oh." There was no wind, but the drops of rain were a little cold against her skin. She pulled her hands inside her sweater and was glad to have decided to leave all of Tifa's clothes behind. "Well, that's good news at least."
He nodded and she turned to look back out at the water.
The squat captain joined them on his tug a few minutes later and, at a signal from him, the other man on the dock swiftly untied the mooring knot. It wasn't long before the engine was grumbling to life and then they were on their way, slowly towing the barge behind like a child hauling a loaded toboggan.
When the sky finally opened up, it was in a sudden torrent that caught them off-guard. Elira had forgotten how quickly summer showers could come and go and she swore as she ran for the shelter of the cab. Vincent followed her and, once they were inside, he pulled a blanket out from where it was tucked in with the tent and proceeded to wrap her up in it. She couldn't help but smile at his attentiveness, the same that had prompted him to get a glass of water for her hangover. Sometimes, she thought to herself, he was like two people: one so driven by the fear of what might happen if he lost control to Chaos that he would do almost anything to keep people safe from it -- and one who could almost risk the fear to satisfy his craving for simple things like conversation and companionship. It was an paradoxical mixture, to say the least.
Holding the blanket closed, and sparing a glance at the captain who was still watching the water ahead, she wiped her face and sat against one iron wall. Assured of her comfort, Vincent lowered himself down beside her and, brushing a few strands of dripping hair away from his skin, fished in his pack for a book. Elira fell asleep, covertly watching him read.
When she woke, hours later she assumed, it had stopped raining outside and Vincent was no longer beside her. With a sigh she stretched cramped limbs and then pushed herself to her feet, feeling hot in clothing that was still a little damp against her skin.
The captain made a sound like he was clearing his throat of phlegm. "'S a nice gun yer husband has," he commented.
The man hadn't struck Elira as someone who talked frequently to strangers and his words surprised her a little. For a moment, she was unsure how to answer. "He's not my husband," she finally replied.
"Uh." The captain peered at her over his shoulder with one squinted eye. "Guess I just assumed..." He made a gesture toward the blanket, indicating, she thought, the thoughtfulness of the act. And then he turned back to the wheel.
There was a small window in the door of the cab and Elira moved to glance out of it. She could see Vincent standing again at the railing, looking out at the ocean, and she wondered if Chaos might have returned. She shrugged out of the blanket and tried to straighten her wrinkled clothing.
The captain took a step to his right and worked to open a window latch. "Mind 'f I smoke?" he grunted.
"Oh. No."
He reached in a pocket for a lighter and cupped a hand to light the end of his fat cigar. "Think I saw 'im before, you know," he muttered, as if continuing a conversation.
Elira blinked. "Who, Vincent?"
"'Zat his name?" He puffed out a breath of smoke. "Years ago, in Junon. Just passin' through, I guess. He looks the same. Part of that group." He took another draw on the cigar. "Avalanche. Just wanted to see the gun, you know? You can tell 'im if you want, he can have it back."
Elira wondered what Vincent would think of having a fan. "I'll tell him."
The captain gave a grunt and a nod before turning back to the controls.
Vincent didn't glance her way as she made her way along the railing. When she was standing beside him, she gripped the rusted iron bar in her hands and leaned over, looking into the gray water. It seemed different than the ocean they'd passed over on the ferry; calm and clear for miles, and sometimes she thought she could see the shape of the bottom. She wondered for a moment if that was just because the tug wasn't as big as the ferry, and now she was closer to the surface.
"Don't fall in."
Elira peered at Vincent out of the corner of one eye and smiled smugly. "What if I did? Would you dive in after me?"
He merely 'hmphed' a little. Elira chuckled and then considered him for a moment. "Is Chaos talking to you?"
He shook his head. "He's being unusually quiet. I'm not sure what it means."
She pursed her lips and then shrugged. "The captain told me you could have your gun back if you wanted. He says he saw you once, in Junon with Avalanche, and he just wanted to have a look at it."
Vincent raised an eyebrow and Elira smiled. I'll bet you didn't know you had admirers.
He blinked and then shook his head. It's a strange notion. And then he sighed in a way that alerted her he was about to say something that had been on his mind. "Elira, what will you do if we manage to get rid of Chaos and I don't survive it?" His voice was quiet, and his concern for her future warmed something in her. It made her wonder for an exhilarating second if maybe there was more than simple 'care' behind his words. She licked her lips and thought carefully about what she really didn't want to consider as a conceivable reality.
"I guess I'll make my way back to Neo-Midgar," she answered finally. She didn't tell him how long she thought it might take her. There would be grief. And probably, like with Eagan, that strange kind of wrath for his death, directed both at him and at the world in general. She might even be tempted to kill herself, she acknowledged. But she would try to make her way back.
Vincent was looking at her and his eyes were piercing as if he was trying to see into her. "I want you to," he said seriously. "Go back to Neo-Midgar. Don't..." He paused for a moment, and then turned away to look back at the water. "Don't grieve for me. I've lived long enough, and I'm prepared to face whatever happens."
Like an echo of his words, she suddenly remembered hearing her mother's voice once, telling her father not to bother with an expensive funeral. She couldn't remember the funeral, but knowing her father she doubted he'd listened. But she remembered him agreeing to the request, maybe because her mother was weak and he didn't want to upset her. "Okay. But I'm still going to hope things won't turn out that way."
He nodded once without glancing back at her. Elira thought he'd finished saying what he'd wanted to say and was almost surprised when he continued a moment later in a soft voice she imagined she wouldn't have been able to hear if there had been much other noise around. "Can I ask why you've been so adamant about coming with me?"
'Because I love you.' But the question made her tremble. Subtlety was for cowards and predators, Leo had said. And the look she pictured on Vincent's face as she told him, the surprise and the cold wall to hide his own reaction, scared her. So she merely shrugged. "Because you deserve to be free, Vincent."
It was a moment before he gave any response, and she wondered suddenly what had made him ask. The thought that maybe he'd guessed her feelings made her flush uneasily. When he simply gave another eventual nod, she felt a little relieved, but the presence of her heart in her throat made her nervous about saying anything else. So she retreated back to the cab for the remainder of the trip.
When they arrived on the Northern Continent, nearly nine hours after leaving the dock in Costa Del Sol, they had to dodge the group of men who began, almost before the barge was out of the water, to unload the supplies. Elira guessed that not many women made their way up here as a few of the men began to cat-call her. It made her smile when Vincent surreptitiously maneuvered himself between her and the men as if to state some claim.
It took them almost an hour to make their way on foot to Bone Village, and then Elira had to stop to eat, no longer able to ignore the growling of her stomach, though she had eaten lunch on the tug. A small restaurant caught her eye and she promised to be quick as she jogged for it.
The place was nearly empty and it wasn't long before she was served. Involved in eating, she didn't notice it when a man approached her table until he cleared his throat. "Excuse me."
She glanced up, half expecting a waiter. She was surprised when it was a man with his own plate of food. He looked to be in his mid-forties with dusty gray hair and a mustache that drooped to the corners of his mouth. He was smiling as he indicated the chair across from her. "May I share your table?"
Elira finished what was in her mouth and was about to tell him that she was only going to be another minute eating when she changed her mind. Bone Village was full of scientists, archeologists and excavators; if this man lived here, maybe he'd be able to tell her something helpful. "Please do," she answered.
He put his plate down and pulled out the chair to sit. And then he held out his hand. "Mason Lasling, presently unrecognized archeologist."
Elira took his hand. "Elira Maddison. Um, an individual who's interested in the Cetra."
Her description of herself made him smile again and he withdrew his hand to pick up his fork. "We don't get many newcomers up here, or many young people. You a student, or doing a documentary?"
She shook her head. "Just going to the Forgotten City."
She guessed it was an odd-sounding reason when he raised his eyebrows. "A pilgrimage?"
She gave a small chuckle and replied, "Something like that." She hoped it was reason enough to satisfy his curiousity.
It seemed to be. He nodded a little and turned to his food. Elira watched him eat for a moment before continuing with her own meal. Once she'd finished another bite, she figured it was her turn to ask a question. "So, can you tell me anything about the city? Have you been there?"
"Oh." He swallowed a mouthful and nodded. "Numerous times. There's a lot to discover in those old ruins. The Cetra were a people with a very different culture, even from something like the Wutaiian culture. They put a lot of stock in their religion."
Elira returned his nod. "I've seen a little of their scriptures. Do you..." She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment. "Do you know much about their religion?"
"Some." He shrugged and prepared another bite. "As much as you can figure out from their churches and things."
"Have you ever seen anything that might suggest...something of their power?"
He glanced up from his plate and then frowned a little. "Mm, well, I suppose not really. We know they did have *some* power, but it's not like I've ever seen white light shoot out of the ground or anything." He grinned and then gestured with his laden fork. "Though there's been some speculation about a crystal they have on a dais at the north end of the city. No one's been able to budge it, though, to study it." And then he gave a small laugh through his nose. "Some people claim to have heard it talking to them." He put the forkful in his mouth.
Elira raised her eyebrows. "Talking to them?"
Mason nodded and chewed for a moment before swallowing. "Claim to have heard the voices of the Cetra. But I don't know if I believe it. I know they had power and I expect they probably had a Promised Land, but I find it hard to imagine an extinct race of people communicating to us from beyond the grave." He gave another laugh and it was almost a dismissing scoff. "Especially when we can see their power fading more every year. The Sleeping Forest is evidence of it."
Elira felt a sudden sting of fear. "Fading?" she asked. Was it too late for Vincent? Would the power they'd been counting on be there at all?
Mason nodded again. "Well, you don't need to 'wake up' that forest any more. You can just walk through it to the city. Though, you know, you don't have to walk if you don't want to. I'm going back up that way tomorrow with a couple of other people and I'd be happy to give you a ride."
Elira considered the offer for a moment. It would save them time, but what if Chaos came suddenly out of its reverie and decided to try and cause trouble? The thought of having to explain Vincent's condition to strangers who might try to hurt him didn't appeal to her. She gave a quiet sigh of resignation and shook her head. "Thanks, but no thanks. I think I'd like to explore the forest."
He gave a shrug. "Suit yourself."
Elira turned back to her plate and finished her meal. In a minute, she stood and turned to her table companion. "It's was nice to meet you, Mr. Lasling."
"You too, Miss Maddison. Maybe I'll see you again up there."
"Maybe." She went to pay for her food, and then to find Vincent.
He was waiting for her across the road and she smiled at his seemingly infinite supply of patience. He glanced at her as she approached and she gestured at the road. "Let's go."
He gave an obliging nod of his head and they started toward the Sleeping Forest.