Chapter Twenty-Nine: A Question of Life and Death
by thelittletree
They picked their way down into the Forgotten City and Vincent was all but helpless to keep himself from watching Elira as she eagerly drank in the pale, destroyed beauty around her. Flushed and wide-eyed with wonder, she gazed the way he'd seen her do in the Odriam museum, completely captivated, and something about that fascinated him. The gleam in her eyes, the way she parted her lips as if the sights were making her short of breath.
Gods, she was beautiful.
The presence of her hand in his warmed him, a quiet gesture of friendship and comfort, and maybe like a kind of claim on her part. But the contact, even through his glove, was impossible to take for granted. It was easier to ignore the flame of desire when they weren't touching; but now, whether he wanted to or not, he found himself tuned in to the movements of her body as she walked. Steadfastly, he averted his eyes and concentrated on the road, but it was a futile effort. After a moment, he considered just pulling his hand away from hers, but that would probably hurt her feelings. And he'd already spent enough time doing that. He cleared his throat. "Elira..."
He wondered if she might have recognized the tone of his voice. With a quick, apologetic smile into his face, she took her hand back and used her fingers to sweep a few curls behind an ear. "Where should we go from here?" she asked, and she managed to sound suitably unassuming.
He was grateful she hadn't made him spell it out. "Your lunch companion in Bone Village mentioned the crystal. That may be a place to start."
"Mm." Elira nodded. "But, he didn't tell me where it was, really. Just the north end of the city."
"I know where it is." The image of the Cetra 'temple' came to mind, hidden in a manmade cave, and he remembered the key they'd used to tap into the crystal's power. They didn't have a key now, but maybe there would be another way.
Elira raised her eyebrows. "Avalanche?" When he nodded, she gave a coaxing smile. "Will you tell me about Avalanche?"
He gave a mock sigh of long-suffering. "What do you want to know?"
Elira was grinning. "Everything. Everything they didn't say in the papers, or on the news. But mostly about how you got involved with them. You and Barret..." She pursed her lips a little. "Well, you didn't seem on very good terms."
Vincent let his mind travel back ten years, to memories he often had little reason to recall. "I was involved purely by accident," he admitted. And then he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, waiting for her reaction. "The man you met in Kalm, Cloud, found me in a coffin in Nibelheim."
She turned to him, startled. "A coffin?"
He nodded again. "That's where I was from the time Hojo...finished with me."
Elira's frown faded a little as she became thoughtful. And then she murmured, "That's thirty years."
"Roughly," Vincent agreed. "I ended up going with Avalanche in the hopes of getting revenge on Hojo for Lucrecia's death. Which I eventually did."
She was shaking her head, and he thought her expression seemed both sympathetic and confused. "Vincent, how can you just..." She stopped, searching for the words. "I don't understand how you can be so calm about this," she eventually continued. "About what Hojo did to you," she clarified after a moment.
He'd begun to think of it as his last secret, since she now knew about the other aspects of his shameful past. "As you said," he started quietly, "we still know very little about each other." She didn't know about the Turks, and he planned to keep it that way. "But I've had cause to believe I deserved it."
She was silent for a moment. "Is this about Midgar?"
He was surprised she'd made the connection. "Yes," he answered, but quickly added, "I don't want to talk about it."
"Okay."
As he drifted into his own thoughts, he began to recognize how long it had been since Chaos had been in his mind. Certainly longer than the sedative could account for. "Elira?"
She glanced at him questioningly from where she'd been staring at a the crumbling wall of a building.
"Could you give me two of the darts?"
She took a sudden breath and her expression became alert. Vincent shook his head to reassure her. "He's being very quiet, and could be conserving his strength for one last transformation. I want to be ready."
Elira nodded and reached into one of the pockets. And then she gave a small laugh. "Actually, you can have your coat back if you want. There aren't any mosquitoes here." She pulled out of her packs and then slipped her arms from the sleeves. "Here."
Under the bulk of his coat, she was just as slender and attractive as he remembered. He made a conscious effort to keep his eyes on her face as he took the garment. "Thank you." He removed his own gear to put it back on, and then readied two darts in his hand. It wasn't until they started walking again that he noticed her scent on the material. 'Dear gods...' He briefly closed his eyes and clenched his teeth, struggling against the sudden heat in his body. 'If we manage this -- if I live -- I swear I'm going to take her somewhere secluded to...'
"Are you all right?"
He quickly opened his eyes. "I'm fine. Let's get going."
They managed a few steps before she continued, "You just...look a little flushed."
He felt a pang of shame at having been caught with his thoughts, but when he glanced at Elira there was a small, knowing smile playing around the corners of her mouth. And, gods help him if something about it didn't make his knees feel weak. She was *teasing* him. His own lips twitched despite himself. "Elira," he said in a warning tone.
She laughed a little and there was a blush growing on her own face. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "You're right, we should get going."
It felt like it took a lot of strength to turn away from her and continue along the road. But in the end, however unwilling, he managed it. Elira followed beside him, still captivated by the city. And he watched her intermittently out of the corner of his eye.
The streets and buildings seemed completely deserted, but it wasn't long before Vincent was picking up the sounds of other people, excavators he thought, working not far away. The structures, however, kept them out of sight until the sounds dwindled again. And then they were approaching a place on the north end that Vincent remembered. When they arrived at the foothills of the mountain, at the mouth of a cave, he stopped Elira with a gesture and unholstered his gun.
"Just to be sure," he told her.
He stepped into the shadows of the cave and moved forward silently. The other end of the passage let him out into a room he recognized. Large and open, like a dome of rock, it was surrounded on all sides by pillars and winding stone walkways. The center was completely hollowed out except for the tall, graceful dais on which the crystal sat, and the catwalk leading to it. Above him, in the ceiling of the chamber, a hole was letting in the light of the late afternoon sun. He holstered his gun and turned to the cave. "It's all right, Elira." His voice echoed around him.
She came into the room and then stopped dead a few feet behind him, staring around at everything. "This is amazing," she breathed.
And it was, he thought, as the only place in all of the Forgotten City that had not been destroyed. But it was slowly and inexorably falling into ruin, and many of the walkways were narrow and without any kind of a guardrail. With a thought to how far a drop it was to the bottom, he turned and held out his hand for Elira to take. He didn't want to risk having her slip and fall.
Elira noticed the gesture and smiled as she approached.
And Chaos made its final move. Vincent had been expecting it, and the darts were ready in his metal fingers. But there had been no warning, no voice in his head, and the pain made him crumple to the stone floor. The demon was trying to force itself to the surface all at once, and he could feel the changes in his body even as his ears and teeth grew, even as the wings tore out of his back. Elira was crying out, though if she was speaking words they were completely lost on him.
His arms were his own, and yet not his own, and it took so much force to try and move them. He only had a few seconds, he knew, but if he could just get the needles of the darts through his skin...
'You lossse, human!' His left hand twitched without his permission and one of the darts dropped out of his grip and rolled away. Vincent watched in dismay as it circled to the edge of the walkway and toppled over.
Chaos was laughing, and with the transformation nearly complete he could feel that laughter coming out of his own mouth. Desperately, he pushed with his own will until he knew he was reaching his mental limit. But his arm -- the demon's arm -- was moving. He gave one last shove and, as if it had used up the last of his resources, he felt himself begin to black out.
But not before he felt the familiar pin-prick of pain in his thigh. It was only one dart; he didn't know how long it would last or what would happen when he woke up -- would Chaos automatically be there in his mind? -- but it was the best he could do for now. He hoped it had been enough...
It all happened so quickly, Elira almost didn't have time to react before Vincent was transforming. He was having trouble, she realized, getting his body to obey as he struggled with the demon, and she yanked her arms out of her pack to get at her own small supply of the darts. When she looked back up, however, he was changing back into the incongruously dark and pale man she knew and slumping to the rock beneath him. Quickly, she ran to him and managed to support his head a moment before he hit.
'God, that was close.' She moved Vincent until he was lying comfortably, or as comfortably as was possible, and gently pushed the hair from his face. His expression showed a kind of exhausted pain, what you might expect to see on a man who had spent his last moments of life in agony, and she almost wanted to check his pulse. But he was breathing shallowly and she squeezed his limp hand a moment before standing to look around. 'Okay, now what, Vincent? You're the one who's been here before.'
Her eyes were inevitably drawn the crystal. She couldn't be sure, but she thought she saw something flicker in its depths as if it could sense her gaze. For a moment she stood chewing on her lip, and then she glanced back down at Vincent before leaving his side.
A walkway led her around to a narrow catwalk that bridged the space between the walls and the dais. Elira peered over the edge at the drop below her and then quickly straightened up. Just looking was making her dizzy. After a few seconds, she clenched her teeth and started across, steadfastly refusing to look down. 'Oh, Vincent,' she thought to herself. 'The things I do for you. I think I'm going to insist that you make up for all of this when it's over. And maybe more than once.' The idea made her smile a little as she stepped onto the dais.
The crystal was a perfect sphere and Elira marveled that even the Cetra had been able to create something so flawless. She hesitated a moment before putting out a hand to touch it. It surprised her when she realized it was warm. People had claimed to hear voices from it, she recalled, but right now she wasn't hearing anything. With a frown, she took her hand away and glanced around the room. So, what was she supposed to do? They were here. What happened now?
Some markings on the crystal's pedestal made her go in for a closer look. She gasped a little when she recognized them as Cetra ideograms. It wasn't really a wonder that something this ceremonial had been inscribed with words -- a prayer, a bit of scripture, a doxology maybe -- but the thought that the words might say something helpful made her slip hastily out of her pack and dig around for the lexicon. When she finally came up with it she plunked herself down on the rock and started translating.
Many of the ideograms were familiar, but it was still hard-going, especially without anything to write the sentences down with. She kept forgetting previous words and having to go back. Eventually, however, despite setbacks the meaning started to come clear.
It was like a history of the Cetra Chosen One: a brief introduction of his origins, some of his teachings, and some about the power he'd wielded called 'Holy'. This power, it went on, he gave to the Cetra after his death so that they could battle evil in any form. As the Cetra people bred with the humans, the strength of their power became less and less; but, in order to keep Holy on the planet, the Chosen One decided to make the power available to any who needed it.
Elira winced as a tooth bit a little too hard into her lip, but she just as quickly forgot about the pain. This was something. If the power had been made available to anyone, they only had to find out how to tap into it. 'Only,' she repeated to herself with a dry scoff. 'Nothing else about this journey has been easy; why should this be?' The next few sentences she translated started into what looked like a kind of genealogy. With a soft curse, she scanned downward, looking for more familiar words that sounded helpful.
She soon discovered more ideograms on other parts of the pedestal. Shifting carefully, she made her way around the dais and continued her translating. She wasn't sure how long she spent on her knees, flipping hastily through the glossary of words at the back of the lexicon, but it seemed like a long time before she came across the symbol that meant 'demon'. With a pang of hope, she pressed onward despite her aching eyes and stiff shoulders. "Please, oh please, tell us what to do," she found herself muttering under her breath.
The passage came together slowly. 'Yenowa's power made her the queen of demons, but Holy gave the Chosen One power over her and all of her subjects. When Yenowa was sealed away by the Chosen One, her demons were let loose to their own wills. There were many possessions in that time, but Holy was able to cure the possessed man and child. Therefore, if any suffer from possession, speak the words of freedom and they will be saved.'
Elira realized that her fingers were trembling. The pages slipped again and again out of her grasp.
'You must cast the evil out of the body in the power of Holy.' Elira kept translating for another few minutes, but that seemed to be all there was concerning demons. Was that it? Just to cast the demon out? It couldn't be that easy, could it? It was just words!
She heard a rustle of clothing and glanced up in time to see Vincent getting unsteadily to his feet. She blinked in surprise. It hadn't been that long since he'd tranquilized himself. She was about to beckon him over and ask him what he thought about what she'd found, but another moment showed her that he was trembling. Concerned, she pulled herself up. "Vincent?" she called across the gap between them. "Are you all right?"
He turned to look at her and she felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. His eyes were completely red. "Elira..." He was trying to put a hand into his pocket, but his movements were getting more unsteady by the second. "Only one dart...it wasn't enough..." His voice was breathless and strained. Suddenly, he hunched over with his hands to his ears.
For a moment, Elira felt frozen to the spot. How could he be transforming again so soon? And then she snapped herself out of her thoughts and made a desperate grab for two darts before racing across the catwalk. She thought she'd never moved so fast in her life.
But Chaos was already working to burst through Vincent's defenses, and previously weakened, Vincent didn't stand much of a chance. He lurched and gave a cry as the wings broke out of his skin for a second time; after that, the rest of the changes didn't take very long. Elira cursed in anger and fear as the last of the demon appeared and then held out its arms as if she might run right into them. It took her a precious second or two to reverse her trajectory, and then she was running back the way she had come. This was not the place to try and stop Chaos. There wasn't room on these walkways! But she had little other choice. Vincent wasn't in any shape to fight the demon from the inside -- though she expected he would give it all he had -- so it was up to her to save her own life.
Though she had less space now than she'd had in the forest, and it was unlikely Chaos would dally again.
She wasn't sure what led her back to the dais, though she could've blamed it on panicking stupidity. Once she was there, she realized belatedly that she'd just cornered herself and went to turn around. But Chaos was coming up quickly to the catwalk and there was no other way off. She cursed in her mind even as she gave a gasping sob, knowing she shouldn't have taken for granted that the tranquilizers would keep the demon subdued. And knowing the chances of surviving this time were incredibly slim, and getting slimmer. Right at the end, too. She cringed as she felt inopportune tears throbbing behind her eyes. Fate certainly had led them on a merry chase, and only to crush them at the finish line.
Chaos was hissing out its laughter as it moved along the catwalk at an unhurried pace. "Now where will you run, little one?" it asked her, leering in sadistic amusement. "What makesss thisss even sssweeter is that I know I *could* fly a thousssand milesss away. But thisss time, there isss no way for you to ssstop me." It chuckled. "Ssso, I'm going to kill you firssst ssso that Vincsssent can torture himssself with the memory for eternity. Ah yesss, ssso sssweet."
Elira glanced over the edge of the dais and felt her stomach recoil as she considered jumping. It would be a better death than Chaos was going to give her. And then she wanted to smack herself. 'Cast it out!' her mind cried. 'Cast the demon out!' So she took a shaky breath and shouted, "I cast you out of him in the power of Holy!"
Chaos' laughter became like the ominous rumble of an approaching landslide. "Ussselesss!" it roared, and its voice echoed around her. "I'm too ssstrong, even for the Ancientsss! There'sss nothing you can do!"
It felt suddenly like the entire journey had been for nothing. They'd tried, they'd gotten this far, and the Cetra couldn't help them. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair!
'But demons always lie...'
Elira thought about this and wiped her tearing eyes on the sleeve of her jacket. To save him, Vincent needed her to keep believing, and to save her own life she needed her wits right now. She couldn't let herself believe Chaos. This hadn't all been in vain; there was still something she could do -- she just had to find it.
So, what could she do in the meantime? The demon had to be subdued. Maybe, if it started circling the pedestal, she might have the opportunity to stick the darts into its back. Or maybe she'd be able to get to the catwalk and find a better place, outside, to fight this battle. Determined again, she sidled over to shield herself behind the crystal as Chaos finally set a clawed foot on the dais.
It was grinning at her, a very unpleasant expression. "You ssstill want to play, human? How entertaining. But I'm getting tired of gamesss. It'sss time to finisssh thisss. Come." It hissed out a chuckle. "Come to your dear Vincsssent."
Elira gripped the darts tighter. "Come and get me." Her voice was trembling.
But her fear seemed to excite the demon. It hissed in anticipation as it came further onto the dais and tried to grab for her around the pedestal. She managed to scoot out of the way on numb legs, though the idea that there was a looming edge beside her made her more cautious than quick. The demon tried to come at her from the other direction and she jumped back again. She was cornered, she realized. Chaos wasn't going to give her any advantage or let her escape. She felt panic start to take over her mind.
'God, oh God, help me!'
And, like an answered prayer, help came. Without warning, the crystal began to glow -- not gradually like a sunrise, but all at once as if a light switch had been triggered. Elira cried out and covered her eyes, and she could hear the demon groaning in pain.
//Bind the demon.//
It was a voice. A woman's voice, she thought, and one who was used to being both kind and obeyed.
//You must bind the demon first. In the power of Holy, bind it.//
And then the light was gone. There were spots in front of Elira's eyes and she hastily tried to rub them away. Chaos was growling nearby and she thought it sounded frustrated. Was it having the same problem? Eventually, she gave up on regaining all of her sight and shouted, "I bind you in the power..."
The rest was cut off, however, as Chaos lunged at her. "Don't sssay that!" it screeched.
Elira jumped out of the way again, but as she came down, her eyes drawn inevitably to the catwalk that was now completely unguarded, her foot landed on an edge of the lexicon Leo had given her. Desperately, she windmilled her arms as she lost her balance, but it was no use. She fell backward, so close to the rim of the dais she could see the drop closer than she ever would've wished. For a moment, she couldn't move, frozen in shock as she stared at the stone floor so far down. And then the demon was there, standing over her, laughing. "Ssstupid..." it began.
But Elira interrupted. "I bind you in the power of..."
"No!" Chaos kicked her suddenly the way one would kick something dangerous away from themselves. And Elira was sent rolling over the edge feet first. With a desperate gasp she threw out her arms, trying to grab something. Her fingers found the rim and she held on with every ounce of her will, even as her hands started to cramp and her arms began to ache. "I bind you in the power of Holy!" she cried out breathlessly.
Elira couldn't see anything except the underside of the dais and the drop below her, but she heard Chaos' scream of rage and fear echoing around the dome. And for a moment, there was nothing, and she wondered what had happened. Had the demon turned back into Vincent? Was Vincent unconscious? She couldn't hold herself here for very much longer, and she didn't have the upper body strength to pull herself up more than a couple of inches. The fingers of one hand suddenly started spasming and she gave a sob through her teeth as she lost her grip with them. One hand wouldn't hold her...
'Vincent...I'm sorry...'
And then Vincent was there with one boot on the edge to support his weight as he grabbed her wrist. There was a determined grimace on his face as he pulled her up, and she gave a cry of pain as fire shot through her arm.
"Use your other hand," Vincent ordered her in a rasp. "Grab the edge!"
She did as he said, and then he bent down carefully until he was crouching before her. Her fingers were smarting again and her arm was still burning. "Vincent..." she whimpered to him, hoping to get him to hurry.
"Shh," he told her quickly. "I've got you. Now, take my hand." He held out his prosthetic for her to take.
She stared at it, not sure she could let go of the edge. But Vincent wouldn't let her fall. He wouldn't ask her to do anything that he thought she couldn't do. With an exclamation of effort, she let go of the edge and grabbed onto the cold metal of his hand.
"Good," Vincent told her. "I'm going to pull you up and, as soon as you can, put your feet up here." He began to haul her upward, making sure to move smoothly so not to disjoint her shoulders, and eventually she could bend her knees and put her sneakers on the rim. After this, the rest was comparatively easy, and then she was in Vincent's arms, sobbing out of trauma and relief.
His embrace was so tight around her and she could feel him trembling as she cried into his shoulder. When she raised her head a few minutes later, he withdrew a little to look into her face. And what happened next seemed so natural and necessary that it didn't matter where they were.
Elira wasn't sure who moved first, but they were suddenly kissing and the rush it gave her felt so good, like an affirmation of life. Frantic for more, she pulled at the edges of his coat, yanked his shirt from where he had it tucked into his pants. Vincent gasped once, and then he was hefting her into his arms to lay her on the stone of the dais. "Elira," he breathed into the skin of her neck. "Elira."
'Please, Vincent, please...' she found herself pleading voicelessly. 'Don't run away again.'
There was no reason, or time, to remove all of their clothing. The stone of the dais was cold against naked skin, but it didn't matter. They were making love and the universe had shrunk down until they were the only two people in it. Gasps and moans echoed off of the temple walls as if calling back to be recognized before they dissipated.
Blood pounded through Elira's veins, oxygen shared with Vincent went in and out of her lungs, her body moved and felt pleasure and building tension. She felt so alive, and she couldn't accept that this might be the last time she would ever feel this way in his arms. They'd come through so much, they'd made it here against all odds, fate couldn't take him away now. Their struggles had to count for something, her love for him had to tip the scales in their favour.
'Please, don't take him away. I helped him here, his life belongs to me and I give it back to him...'
All coherent thoughts fled from her as the universe trembled, trembled, exploded around her and through her. The dome resonated with sound and feeling and life. And then Vincent was moving to lay beside her. She rolled into his arms and buried her fingers in his shirt, breathing in the musk of his skin.
"I love you," she whispered, and admitting it to him brought a release of its own.
For a moment as Vincent held her, his arms tightening around her and his lips in her hair, she felt things would be all right. It was hard to think otherwise when she felt so warm and relaxed and secure. But then he was drawing away from her to sit up. Elira followed him with her eyes, wondering at his thoughts. She hadn't expected him to reciprocate her confession, but she questioned how it was making him feel. Happy? Guilty? Confused? When he turned to her, his hands already moving to straighten his clothing, she thought she could see remorse in his eyes, and fear. Slowly, she pulled herself up beside him and struggled with her own clothes. "What are you thinking?" she asked him quietly.
He closed his eyes and took a breath. "I want you to promise me that you'll leave if I die."
She couldn't help but scoff a little. This was what was bothering him? "Vincent, I already said I would."
He looked at her pointedly. "But that was before..." And then he hesitated and made a hasty gesture with his hand.
"Before I said I love you?"
His expression softened and he began to tremble again. "Oh, Elira." He pushed his fingers under the bandana. "You don't know how much..." He stopped suddenly, looking slightly desperate. "I don't want you to grieve, Elira. I want you to go back to Neo-Midgar."
"You're making it sound like there's no chance you'll live through this."
But he wasn't to be deterred. "Promise me, Elira."
She scoffed again, irrationally angry at him. "Can't you pretend for two minutes that you're not going to die?"
"Promise me!" His eyes were bright and his tone was harsh with emotion.
And Elira felt the tears of a possible grief start to bubble to the surface. "No, you're not going to die!" she told him firmly. "Stop saying it."
"Elira..."
She clapped a hand over his mouth. "No, Vincent! Stop!" Her voice cracked with a sob and she wiped impatiently at her tears. "Stop being so realistic for a second, dammit! Please..." She felt her anger begin to drain out of her as the wall of denial started to crumble and she took her hand back. "Please," she continued, feeling too weary to speak much above a whisper. "I need to hear something else. I know the chances, but please. Just..." She cast around for words. "Just tell me what we're going to do when we leave here."
His eyes radiated a regretful kind of pity, but he eventually nodded. "All right." He got to his feet and then held out his hand to help her up. When they were both standing, he pulled her into his arms and began to speak in a soft voice that made her feel close to tears again. "We'll go back to Bone Village," he told her. "We may have to wait a little while for the barge, so...I imagine we'll have to get a room at an inn." He paused for a moment and she heard him swallow. "I'll work, if need be, to keep the room." He hesitated again and she thought she felt a tremor in his arms. "And..." He frowned. "And..."
"We'll eat all sorts of good things so you can taste them again," Elira continued for him, wanting to prolong the fantasy. "Room service can bring us whatever we want. And we'll go for walks in the evening so you can teach me how to keep my balance in a tree. And..." Her lips tried to smile. "...and we'll make love at least twice a day."
Vincent's shoulders shuddered with a silent, short-lived chuckle. "Yes, that's what we'll do."
"Good." She leaned her head against his collarbone. "And I promise to leave if you die, though you're not going to."
"Elira..."
But she put her fingers to his mouth again. "Shh. Please."
She felt him sigh and then he withdrew from her. "All right." His expression became resigned and she knew he was preparing to get on with it. "I heard you try to cast Chaos out, and then you...bound him."
She took a calming breath and nodded, trying to become all-business. "I heard a voice out of the crystal telling me to bind the demon," she told him. "Believe me, I know it sounds crazy, but that's what happened. I got the idea to cast him out from the Cetra ideograms." She pointed at the pedestal and then glanced around for the lexicon. She found it not far away, where it had skidded to after she'd stepped on it. "Leo gave me this," she answered the unspoken question as she straightened, brushing the book off. "I've actually gotten pretty good at the translating."
Vincent glanced at the book and then back into her eyes. "I'm glad I brought you along," he said suddenly, and there was a hint of humour in his expression.
Elira smiled at him and shook her head. "Yeah, I'm sure glad you didn't listen to me when I tried to let you go alone." She ran her fingers over the cover and then pursed her lips. "Well, anyway, I think with the demon bound it can probably be cast out now."
Vincent gave a nod and a long silence followed. The afternoon was slowly fading into evening and it would be dark soon, Elira realized. Finally, she stirred with a breath and put the book down. "I guess we should do it."
"Yes." But he was staring across the room. Elira wondered if he was afraid. Unobtrusively, she reached out and took his hand. He glanced at her and a corner of his mouth twitched. "Thank you," he told her suddenly. "You realize I wouldn't have made it this far without you."
"I know," she told him, trying to smile. When it contorted with tears she turned away.
But Vincent moved to tip her chin back to him with a metal finger. "Elira, I'm sorry," he told her quietly. "If there was another way..."
"But there isn't," she finished thickly. "I guess I could ask you to...to stay with me, with Chaos bound inside of you, but..." She wiped at her eyes again. "...but if the Cetra power is fading, this might be your last chance, right?"
His eyebrows twitched downward. "I suppose. And if I gave up this chance, you would grow old and die eventually, and I would be alone again, forever."
Elira winced. "So, there really is no other way." She stepped forward to hold him again, and he let her. "Well, good-bye, just in case. Though I'm also going to say 'See you again in a minute.'"
He smiled at her, nearly a full smile, and leaned down to kiss her. It was gentle and filled with an affection he would never have voiced. And then he withdrew. "Good-bye, Elira." He moved a few feet from her and gave a nod to say he was ready.
She chewed on her lip and then took a breath. "In the power of Holy, I cast Chaos out of your body."
It was surprising what power words could hold. Like a growing storm cloud, a black shadow started to gather over Vincent's head, and as it grew Vincent clenched his teeth and doubled over in obvious pain. Elira watched, squeezing her hands together in worry and not sure if she should approach. And then the shadow was wailing in terror, fighting and swirling against something until it was finally sucked out of the air.
As if the strings holding him up had been cut, Vincent fell to the stone dais in an unmoving heap. Fearing the worst, Elira ran to him and rolled him onto his back. "Vincent! Vincent!"
The sound of his name made him open his eyes, and after a moment his pupils focused on her. She grinned as tears started to track down her face, and this time she didn't bother to wipe them away. His eyes...they'd changed. Without the demon, they were a beautiful slate gray.
His breathing was a little staggered, but he managed to twitch his lips at her. And then his expression crumpled with pain and he began to shudder beside her. A moment later, he opened his mouth with a gasp, as if something had startled him, and then he sighed it back out again, slowly. After that, he didn't move.
Elira stared in horror and, trembling, she put a hand to his neck, feeling for a pulse.
It was there, but it was thready and slow. And it became slower as she kept her fingers there.
Until it finally stopped.