Chapter Twenty-Eight: Talk to Me
by thelittletree
In the end, it was the feel of warm air against her neck, the long, settled breaths of sleep, that made Elira throw off the dregs of dizzy fatigue and open her eyes. Nothing felt right for a moment, and it made her panicky. The sun was very firmly in the sky, well past its zenith in fact, and she wasn't in the tent. Vincent was there, clearly unconscious, half-pinning her with his own weight. And her body seemed to ache everywhere.
'Vincent...what happened? Where are we?'
She tried to move a little, to inch out from under him. Her stomach was feeling distinctly uneasy and she felt the need of air. The palm of his metal hand, previously hanging at a limp angle over her shoulder, touched her cheek as she shifted and she couldn't help but flinch a little in surprise. It was cold compared to the tickle of his breath on his skin. Carefully, she fingered the prosthetic until she felt she had a secure enough grip to move it, and then she lifted it away. Vincent gave no sign to say he noticed her efforts and, looking at his face, Elira was fairly sure he was out under the effects of the darts. There was a small line between his eyebrows, as if he'd been frowning when he'd lost consciousness, and she tried to recall the events that might have led to this particular arrangement.
Remembering the walk through the forest inevitably brought her to the memory of the ghostly wolves, and then to Chaos, and to falling despite the firm security of Vincent's arms. She realized that she must've fainted before impact. A quick twitch of every limb told her nothing was broken, and she gazed back into Vincent's face. 'You saved me again,' she told him silently. 'And, god, you smell good.' But it was uncomfortable to have his weight on her like this, and her pack was an uncompromising series of lumps against her back that only seemed to be further irritating her stomach. Slowly, she continued to extricate herself from his sheltering embrace. The feel of his hip bone pushing into her thigh, even through the bulk of his coat, made her suddenly glad he wasn't awake. She knew already this kind of physical awkwardness would've normally had him walled up and walking away before she could even get her feet under her. A few more seconds brought her into a sitting position, propped up on her hands, and she took a few breaths, trying to quell the nausea in her stomach.
The feeling passed after a few clammy, shaky minutes, and then she pulled her sneaker out from under his leg and got to her knees.
It was hard to roll him over, especially when her muscles felt so sore, but she managed it. And once it was done, the presence of the two darts she'd used caught her attention, still in his abdomen. He must not have even had the time to remove them before he'd passed out, she realized, and she pulled them gingerly from both skin and clothing before discarding them in the grass.
"Vincent?"
He made no move to reply.
"Vincent?" She shook his shoulder a little. Another glance at the sky told her they'd both been lying here for a little while. "Vincent, wake up."
He still made no move and she sighed. What would it take? She remembered how motionless he'd remained for Cloud's impromptu surgery and began to wonder if any kind of force could drag him out from under the power of the sedatives. Perhaps she would just have to wait. Though maybe she could try something...
It was done very quickly, and almost without deliberation. She leaned over and pressed her lips to his in a chaste kiss. He didn't respond. She raised her eyebrows and sat back again.
"You must really be out of it," she commented aloud with a wry, breathless chuckle. And then she set about making sure they still had everything with them. The tranquilizer gun, of course, was missing, but she eventually found it hidden in the grass of the valley, crumpled up and unusable. Still, she brought it back with her to Vincent's side and sat down to inspect the damage, wondering as her mind went back to the forge if there was any way she might be able to fix it.
She wasn't sure how long Vincent continued to sleep, but it felt like a long time. Eventually, she became hungry enough to warrant going through his packs. When she ran across his supply of books, she gave in to her curiousity and began to look through them.
They were all well-used, and some of them were sans sleeves. A particularly nondescript hard-cover she'd seen him reading before urged her into further exploration. She opened it and began to scan the words. It almost surprised her when she realized it was a novel -- a detective novel, no less.
She smothered an affectionate chuckle. 'Why, Mr. Valentine. I'd always pegged you as a non-fiction kind of guy.' It felt good to have something to laugh about; there was a relief in it after the shock of fear and violence heralded by the wolves, and then the transformation. After a few moments, she put the book back where she'd found it and began to rummage for something to eat. As she withdrew again to sit beside him, already munching away, she realized that his eyes were open. It startled her a little and she gasped; he hadn't given any indication of waking. "Oh, Vincent."
He blinked, looking disoriented. "Elira. Are you all right?"
His voice was low and rough with sleep. Elira smiled privately. "I'm fine. I was a little shaken when I woke up, but now I'm okay. I couldn't remember what had happened."
He seemed to take a moment digesting this, and then he squinted at the sky. "How long have I been asleep?"
"Not sure. A couple of hours maybe." She took another bite of food and considered him as she ate. "Are *you* all right?"
He gave a nod, and then seemed almost to wince. "I think so. Just a little dizzy." And then he pulled his right arm up to cushion his head so that he wouldn't have to crane his neck to look at her. "Were you going through my things?"
The teasingly reproachful question was unexpected and Elira couldn't help a grin. She realized that she'd been waiting for him to stand up and say they had to get moving again, and it was nice to hear the return of that easy tone, even here. It relaxed her. "I didn't realize you were awake." There was something undeniably attractive about the way he was positioned, unconsciously casual and open as if they might've been lounging on a bed. "I was just looking for something to eat and I found your books. An...interesting selection, if I do say so."
A corner of his mouth twitched. "What did you expect to find?"
She thought for a moment and was forced to shrug as she finished eating. "Maybe books about guns, or history. I guess you just seem too...I don't know, austere or something to be reading mystery novels."
He raised an eyebrow and Elira had to scoff a little. "Oh, come on. What am I supposed to think? You do realize that, despite all of this, we still hardly know each other."
His expression became more somber. "Does that bother you?"
The question made her step back and contemplate her answer. "I don't know. Maybe a little." She picked a piece of grass and began to try and tie it into a knot. "Maybe I just wish I knew you better."
There was a pause. "What do you want to know?"
The sudden flood of queries in her mind made her laugh. "I think it would take a long time to go through everything." And then she chewed at her lip. "Okay, what were you like as a child?"
He blinked once, and then again. "I don't remember."
"You don't remember?"
He leveled a look at her. "It was a long time ago."
She waved a hand at him. "That's no excuse. Before he died, my grandfather used to be able to go on for hours about when he was a boy, and he was in his eighties."
Vincent pursed his lips in a facial shrug. "Well, I don't remember. I don't really remember much before Midgar. Just..." He seemed to think for a moment. "Just feelings, mostly, and some images. There was a woman who might've been my mother. I have one memory of her, of being pulled out of a room by the hand and of her closing a door behind me." And then he frowned a little. "It's all very scattered."
Elira felt so comfortable all of a sudden, talking about memories, she almost wanted to lie down beside him, close to his side. But she didn't. She pulled up another piece of grass and tried to tie it onto the other one. It didn't quite want to cooperate, but she stuck at it. "I don't remember much about my mother, either," she told him. "I remember seeing her in the hospital, but that's about it. I don't remember ever seeing her put make-up on, or hearing her laugh. Just when she was sick."
Vincent didn't say anything. She saw his right arm move a little toward her as if he was considering offering some comfort, but the gesture fell short. Elira fumbled one of the strands of grass and lost it in the sea of green around her knees. She heard Vincent take a breath. "Perhaps we should get going."
She nodded and got to her feet. As she picked up the ruined tranquilizer gun, she saw him notice it. "Now it's really obsolete," she quipped, attaching it back to her pack.
He made a small noise that might've been a chuckle if it had been let out any further and began to walk.
It was going on to late afternoon, Elira suspected, as they continued through the forest, though once they were out of the valley it was practically impossible to see the sun. They'd lost a bit of time because of the near-disastrous brush with Chaos and she found herself hoping they reached the end of the trees before night fell again. As they continued slightly uphill, however, it seemed as if there was no end to the dim, muggy, mosquito-infested woods, and she thought she was beginning to actually hate the place.
So, although she was trudging along at Vincent's side on muscle-sore legs, she didn't once request a stop. She didn't want to spent one minute more than she had to in these cursed woods.
The ground only got steeper as they continued, but after an hour when she was starting to feel like she couldn't take another step, it finally leveled out and she could see the trees beginning to thin out ahead. She laughed breathlessly in delight. "Oh, I'll be so glad to get out of here," she said to Vincent.
"You won't be the only one," Vincent replied.
After a few more minutes, however, Elira had to stop. "I can't," she gasped. "I need to rest." She unscrewed the cap to her water bottle and took a few sips, coughing a little at the last trickle of water down her throat.
Vincent nodded and she sat down with her back against a tree. "God, I feel so tired," she muttered. "I think it was all of the running and the bursts of adrenaline; I'm just worn out. I'm glad we're almost there."
Vincent nodded again and, facing north, leaned against the bark of a trunk with his arms crossed loosely over his chest. "It shouldn't be more than half an hour," he said quietly. "We should be able to see the city soon."
The obvious topic was the impending uncertainty of his death, assuming they could find whatever it was that could help him, but Elira avoided it steadfastly. "Good." And then she pursed her lips, thinking. "What will we do when Chaos tries again?"
Vincent shrugged a little without looking at her. "Put me out," he answered, "and then wait for me to wake up. I don't think there's much beyond that we can do."
"Those wolves..." She cleared her throat a little. "We haven't run into them again. I think they were made by Chaos."
He dropped his eyes to the ground a moment before glancing at her. "I didn't realize he might be able to use the latent power here," he admitted as if the statement required an apology. "At least, not to the extent he did. The Sleeping Forest has never looked upon non-Cetra intruders very favourably, and he must have suspected. That may be why he was so still on the way over here."
"Conserving his strength," Elira muttered. And then she grimaced a little. "Its," she corrected herself. "Its strength." Vincent was smiling a little, she noticed, and she smiled too. "What?"
He merely shook his head and turned to look north again. After another minute, Elira got to her feet. "Okay, let's get this done," she said.
Vincent nodded and pushed himself from the tree. As they resumed walking, a sudden thought made Elira chuckle. "You know," she began, "I just realized. Chaos had the perfect chance to screw up this entire journey, but it didn't. It could have flown a thousand miles away, but it stayed to try and kill me."
Vincent turned his head to look at her. "You're right," he said, and then his lips twitched with amusement. "How interesting. I imagine it will kick itself later for not taking advantage of the opportunity."
Elira grinned. And then, with a quick nibble of her lip, she did something she'd been tempted to do more times than she could count. She reached out and slipped her hand into his gloved one. Vincent stiffened slightly at her side, but he made no other verbal or physical objection. She tightened her grip a little on his fingers and something in her warmed at more than just the contact when he squeezed back.
The trees were soon giving way to sky and larger patches of meadow the way clouds melt away in the sun. Elira smiled as they crested one more small hill and the Forgotten City, in all of its barren beauty, was finally revealed. From here she could see that it had been built, like Neo-Midgar, into particular sectors divided by prominent roads. The buildings were luminescent, gleaming like polished porcelain, and they seemed to curve into themselves like sea-shells. Providing a backdrop to the city was a range of low, jutting peaks that she imagined must have once supplied a harshness to contrast with the gentle splendor of the architecture. As it was now, however, the mountains only highlighted the war-ravaged age of the structures, leaving viewers with a desolate kind of awe for the extinct race and the expired magnificence of their home.
Elira turned to Vincent, smiling. "We made it," she breathed. And then she gazed out over the greatest secret of the Northern Continent. "It's so beautiful."
"Yes." She sensed it when he moved to look at her and something in his eyes made her heart ache and the blood rush to her face. "Very beautiful."