Prologue: Screwing with Destiny
The night was warm and sticky
and looking at the sky you would've been able to tell. A quarter moon hung
crooked in the corner of heaven, just above the Mansion's western gable; yellow
and splotched with brown, it seemed nauseated as it watched the sights below. Greyish clouds wiped sweat from its forehead and the droplets fell to the dirt, a warm rain that smelled strange and soured the air.
A spiral staircase. They didn't make a lot of
sense. Not only did they manage to make you dizzy as hell on the climbs up and
down, but poor Professor Hojo was cursed with a fear of heights. So in the
journey to the basement from the second floor of the dusty Shinra mansion, Hojo
found himself nauseous, dizzy, and unable to take a deep breath for the mold in
the air.
Hojo watched Lucrecia’s departure with slits for
eyes, his shaking arms crossed over his chest, pressed tight to him as though to
protect the thundering heart raging behind. He’d struck her. He’d hurt his
Lucrecia... how..? Gods, she’d just made him so angry, so full of despair with
only a few words. And why?
“Did he do that to you?!”
“Does it have to be like this then? Do I have to
do it all alone? Bah... I’ve always been alone.”
Jenova was staring at him.
And now it was something like six in the
morning.
Phew! So what d'you think? It's almost a little
stand-alone fic, isn't it? But no, this was just the set-up to something longer
(and because I'd always wanted to try and write this part of the game,
especially from Hojo's point of view) Cloud and Zack enter the story in chapter
one and we'll get into some really dark stuff, gya ha ha haa. Poor Jimmy though,
I guess I probably should have named him Wedge, heh heh ^_^ umm... email me and let me know if I should
continue this thing, I don't wanna write something no one's gonna read...
(though I probably will anyways, this is fun stuff and the story's gonna have a
huge twist at the end)
To sum it up, 11:35 pm wasn't shaping up to be very pretty.
The Shinra Mansion stuck out of Nibelheim like an abandoned movie prop. The smells of fresh paint and new lumber still permeated the air around the place, blew to the citizens of Nibelheim's noses on the swift mountain breezes from the North. But already the dampness of the town was blackening the boards and giving the building a real gothic feel. Extensive amounts of mako leaking from the tanks in the underground labs increased the growth of the surrounding greenery; vines and creepers were coating the outside walls of the buildings like varnish.
There were dozens of tall windows in the place, glass glaring like eyes from behind the ivy. On the second floor, near the far end of the eastern terrace, behind a scrim of dusty lace, a face was peering out onto Nibelheim's empty streets. Not much to see there... these picturesque lightposts lit up cobblestones and brick walls and a dilapidated old well. All of it lifeless of course. The small town's hard workers had to be up early next morning to toil anew. No time to stay up all night and stare at the mansion. No time to wonder just what in the hell had been going on in there for the past seven months.
But that was all that was on Vincent's mind. He wished Jimmy would stop shouting and let him think about it straight for just a while.
"Don't stand there and ignore me!" Jimmy was demanding furiously, "Listen to me! This isn't worth it... d'you fuckin' understand?! This isn't worth losin' six years of your life over. Just leave it be, the situation doesn't like you, it hasn't from the start!"
"So I walk away?" Vincent whispered
viciously, shrugging off the warm, friendly hand from his shoulder but not
turning around. He was staring outside as if there was nothing more interesting
in the world. His Turk friend Jimmy seemed almost hurt at the sting in his
voice. "I can't walk away from this and leave her to die... I love
her. Don't ya get that?"
"Love her? Try thinking with your brain and
not your dick for once--"
"It isn't like that," he protested, staring firmly out onto Nibelheim, upon the same view he'd been hating for months. But he didn't really hate it, not anymore. With very little effort, he could associate those distant Nibel Mountains with evening walks with her, nights spent staring at the moon lighting up faraway crags, pointing out a beautiful sunset to Lucrecia who would act so delighted, as though seeing the sun's descent for the first time. Gorgeous red light reflecting from her hair, her hand in his and their eyes on the view and there wouldn't be anything to think upon but eachother, not even thoughts of Hojo or the Turks or Shinra could break that luxurious peace.
He saw that looking out onto empty Nibelheim now. But how could Jimmy ever understand? How could anyone read his heart and know that what he was feeling now was the only real emotion he'd ever known? The only one besides pain? He knew pain so well that it hardly counted as a sensation anymore. This new feeling... complete devotion, it brushed twenty-seven years of pain away all with a glance and a touch. Couldn't he tell Jimmy that? Get his buddy to understand just why he couldn't leave the mansion with him tonight? With a desire that unsettled him, Vincent wished he could gash his ribcage open and reveal his heart, show what was aching and longing and slowly dying there. But all he could say was, "I love her, Jimmy..."
Jimmy shook his head.
"That means nothin'. You're stupid to think it
does."
"Great advice coming from a guy whose greatest love is still his mother. Love means something, it has to, I don't care what you think."
"Damn my eyes, but Vincent Valentine's turned into a bag of romantic crap, "Jimmy spat in disgust. Romantic he could stand, but romantic, spiteful, and delusional, he could not. "Doesn't make two shits worth of difference though, does it? You love the woman, right? But it don't matter 'cause when you flashed that ring in her face, she said no." Jimmy put his hand on his friend's shoulder again but it was more confrontational than comforting now.
"She said no, "Vincent admitted somewhat bitterly, his right hand dropping into his pocket and stroking the warm velvet box still nestled there, "But it was because of Hojo that she did, she won't leave him. He... he won't let her."
"You're deluding yourself, you moron. She's too scared to
leave what's safe behind, lose her career, her stability, her entire life, just
to run off and have a fling with you."
It sounded so dirty and lowered rolling off Jimmy's tongue. Vincent bristled with disgust towards his friend, hands clenched at his sides.
"So ballsy of you though, flinging that proposal, that ring in her face when she already had her own ring and husband by her side..." Jimmy sounded pissed, hurt, sad. He was an unremarkable young man with a big heart and an obsessive nature. A lot like his friend Vincent only a much clearer thinker with a more realistic outlook on the world. There was no poetry in blood, he couldn't see any. If Vincent intruded in the Shinra Scientists' business over a stupid love affair, he might very well get himself fired. And President Shinra fired Turks in very specific ways: with bullets. There was no poetry in dying over unrequited love. To Jimmy, dying just meant dying. And that was what Vincent was setting himself up for.
"Professor Hojo's a freaking loony, "he hissed through the gloom, trying to capture Vincent's eyes and attention. He wriggled his fingers near his forehead for emphasis. "He's so possessive of her he barely lets the chick leave here, you know that. And with that baby she's carryin', that experiment as far along as it is, there's no way in hell you'd both get out of here."
"We can try..."
"And you can die."
"That's absurd, they wouldn't touch me, I'm a Turk. We're Shinra's Turks, the President would come over here and personally slaughter anyone who so much as looked at us wrong." Vincent crossed his arms tight over his chest, gazing off towards a nearby doorway. Through it, a seldom used bedroom lay obscured by darkness, its rear stone wall glistening with the dispersed lanternlight of the hall. That wall led to the crux of the whole situation, to the labs, the Library. She was down there. He was down there. And Vincent was just a Turk who could only stand by and hope the two of them wouldn't do anything stupid in his absence. He almost raised a hand out towards that hidden passageway to the labs, remembering this morning when he'd watched Lucrecia's back as she'd retreated downstairs, that cold stone wall slamming shut with a final sounding sort of thud. He'd let her go down there alone, he let her go every fucking morning alone, his disapproval revealing itself through nothing but a pair of narrowed brown eyes and a frown. She was down there even now, in that cold, sterile place with that Jenova monster, with those piddling Shinra science techs, with all of those people unaware that there was an angel in their midsts.
But he drew that desirous hand away and stuck it back in his pocket, fingernails clunking against the black velvet box again. "I don't care that she said no... "he whispered softly to himself, forgetting Jimmy was there for a
second, "I'd die for her."
"You god damned
lunatic, I--!"
"But it doesn't mean I
will!"
Vincent shoved his friend out of his way
and marched into the bedroom, towards the passage, intentions clear in his face.
He was going to go down there and settle this once and for all.
"Vincent--!"
Jimmy locked his hands
around his friend's arm, tugging him back into the shadows. "Stop it! It's
Professor Hojo!" he hissed, "I hear 'im coming!"
If this fact was supposed to scare Vincent into submission, it didn't work. The
anger in his eyes only built with the name. And when that pointy-chinned,
four-eyed, greasy-haired freak's face melted out of the darkness of the far
hallway and began approaching the two men through the gloom, Jimmy had to grab
his friend's right hand to keep it from going to his gun.
"You have the self-control of a two year old, "the young Turk
reprimanded. And it was true, Vincent could never control his anger, he was too
used to harnessing his own fury as a sort of tool, using it to kill when it was
necessary. But taking out that anger now was an impossibility. Hojo was just too
strong.
Vincent scowled at Jimmy's words but they
knocked a little sense back into him. He shoved his rage down and took a deep
breath, straightening, running a hand through his cropped black hair. By the
time Hojo reached them from the stairs, he looked almost nonchalant.
"Evening, James, "the professor called, waving an absent
hand in Jimmy's direction. The young Turk nodded curtly, wincing at the low
growl he heard roll from Vincent's tongue. The growl became almost a roar as
Hojo passed by them both and into the bedroom, never gracing Vincent with a
single word. The usual sounds came then; the clunk of gothic gears grinding as
the stone passageway leading downwards went through its cycle, finally slamming
open with a creak. Footsteps next, and a tuneless hummed song. A wavering sound,
they could hear Hojo singing catches of old ballads as he descended the stairs
to the Library. Both Turks flinched when the wall closed itself again, leaving
them in a stifling, short-lived silence.
"She'll
do it... "Vincent muttered, and Jimmy whipped about to stare at him with eyes
wide in disbelief, "She'll do it tonight, she has to. We fought last evening
about it, fought for hours. And she knows now because I told her. Him or me. Him
or me. It's decided tonight and I won't deal with the indecision any
longer..."
Jimmy crossed his arms over his chest,
tapping his fingers against his elbow. Vincent looked so desperate, sounded so
hopeful right now that it nearly broke his heart. He couldn't believe he was
able to ask, "But what if she chooses him?" His friend's jaw tensed at
the question, teeth grinding behind pursed lips. He whispered his answer,
turning back to the window and blankly staring at the mountains again.
"If she is happy, then I don't mind," he muttered to the
glass.
Ah... but such was Shinra efficiency. It
had looked good on paper, in the blueprints, so they'd gone with it. The gothic,
gaudy architecture of the mansion itself had looked good, so they'd went with
it. Forget the fact that a modern concrete and steel structure would have been a
thousand times more appropriate for use as research facilities. Forget that the
mansion's thin wooden walls let in every draft that blew down from the distant
Nibel mountains, forget that there weren't even beds enough to accomodate all
those on the research team. Ah, trivilities all. Practicalities rather that
hadn't meshed with the grand "vision" of President Shinra's
architects.
He did like the Shinra mansion an
awful lot. On an aesthetic level, it was beautiful. Dark and gothic, full of
dusty warm corners and nooks to settle down and read in. It was like a cottage
from Hojo's childhood, and put him strangely at ease. Those purple mountains in
the distance, each crag was sharp and hooked like crones' fingers, but when the
mists of morning hid them, when a brilliant orange sun played off the granite
during evening hours, those peaks became beautiful, a natural grandeur that
rivaled the mansion's lines. Hojo liked them. Yes, despite the impracticality of
the entire ordeal, Hojo was very fond of all of it.
Except for this blasted spiral staircase. However, Hojo suddenly found he
barely minded the inconvenience now, he was just too damned pleased with
himself. He'd just managed to snub Vincent Valentine, and snub him quite good.
With no small amount of glee, he'd caught the fury just now in those eyes
despite the shadows they'd tried to hide in. The prick could have his jollies
with 'Crecia, there was little Hojo could do about that, but he wouldn't think
of the adulterous snake like a human being. He wouldn't address him, please him
with common courtesies... it was a lame sort of revenge, but better than
nothing. If only...
If only he were more
physically inclined... able to kick ass like those Turks. Maybe then he'd have
something to say to Valentine. Something juicy. Heh.
But until then, simple snubbing would have to suffice.
The young Professor chuckled bitterly, then put a hand out to
steady himself as he climbed downstairs, his spotted black loafers becoming
spottier with the renegade mildew and dust that came off the stone with the
smallest of breezes. He breathed shallowly, denying his allergies of the mold,
his eyes tearing up behind his glasses, his nose tingling until he mashed at it
with an impatient right hand. Seven months! This blasted building had been up
for only seven months and already it was infected with this filth! The simple
look of the place couldn't be completed until it had been coated with the black
of time and a fair helping of cobwebs. This just couldn't be the 'Shinra
Mansion' until it'd been properly aged. It was poetic. If not practical, it was
poetic. And in the long-run, poetry tended to live longer. Hojo could admit to
that much.
Poetry. Strange that a man with such a
scientific mind should have such an appreciation for poetry. It extended to
everything really, and so it should. Vincent and 'Crecia... he could see the
poetry there. He could appreciate it, as he did with everything... everything...
but these god damned spiral stairs!
His left foot
scuffled clumsily on a loose board and Hojo would have flown forward towards a
broken neck if he hadn't darted a bony arm out and grabbed at the railing. He
gave a little cry and jumped over the last five or so steps, squinting his
sensitive eyes at the sudden light streaming from the doorway before him. The
soft glow of civilization amidst the poetic jungle of the manse. The Library.
The Laboratory. Ah... his element. Where he could leave things like poetically
spiralled staircases, romantic entanglements, and looming gothic architecture
behind. Inside this refuge from it all was his life's work and his life's love;
what was going to make him shine.
"Professor
Gast!" he called, trotting down the short, immaculately scrubbed hallway leading
to the library. "Sir, I have those papers for you, sir!"
"The Professor's retired for the day. His eyes were bothering
him."
Hojo swung himself through the doorway and
into the labs, smiling at the sound of his wife's voice, tired as it was, and
bitter as he'd been. Lucrecia only looked up briefly at his entrance, her own
eyes exhausted and strained behind her delicate glasses. She was scanning lines
of notes on a clipboard and adding to the volumes of research with her own tiny
penmanship. Hojo's eye lingered on her for a moment, but then the shine of glass
and the warm gurgling of chemicals caught his attention. The doctor's
enthusiastic smile faded to a frown as he approached the tank holding the Jenova
specimen. Behind a scrim of murky chemicals, mako, and formaldihyde, a beautiful
face hung suspended, features hard as marble it seemed, as cold and hard as the
ice they'd pulled it from. He ran his eyes over the face as he always did and
Lucrecia looked up to watch him, something like pain in her
expression.
"Were you afraid it wouldn't be here,
love?" she asked softly, trying to smile. Hojo flickered his attention her way
for a moment and returned the pleasantry, though she could see it was strained.
There was never good cheer in the lab. It was as though that thing in the tank
pervaded the atmosphere and slayed any chance of happiness among those slaving
over her. Lucrecia glared hard at the creature, looking past that ethereal
beauty and seeing nothing but the pulsing bluish veins on the bloated skin, the
wires jammed through the tissue, the marks of time, the damages from her
imprisionment. Lucrecia thought she'd never seen something so ugly. If that
Jenova thing truly was an Ancient, thank the gods they'd all died out.
It took some effort as it always did, but Hojo managed to
turn his attention away from his specimen and towards his wife, breezing by and
quickly brushing her lips with his, lingering for a moment on the smell of her
perfume. Amidst all the sterile odors of the labs, that floral fragrance rang
out clear and pure. He breathed it in for a while, lost in that one moment, then
gave a start and moved towards the bookshelves. "If you're tired, luv, please
turn in, "he called, a twinge of guilt gnawing his heart, "I'm sure you've
earned your paycheck for the day. And it isn't good for the baby or you to
strain yourself. If rest furthers positive results, than that's just as
important, if not more, than further work."
"I
can't argue your logic, "Lucrecia answered, her voice washed out to a whisper.
Hojo turned with furrowed brows to watch her back and examine the halo of light
thrown up by her softly auburn hair. Something cold in her voice, cold behind
the weariness and pain. But that had been there a while. And there really wasn't
anything to do about it. Still... so beautiful she was, sometimes he forgot. The
poetry became lost in the science. He wagered that she and Valentine must look
proper together, fitting, beautiful. He and Lucrecia had never managed that
themselves. Maybe at first, but not anymore...
Hojo turned away, a strange emotion chewing at him, gnashing fangs against his
ribcage, as though trying to affect a hard heart that was already safely locked
away. So, so beautiful, he thought suddenly. If the baby looked anything like
her, Hojo wondered if he'd be able to repress his conscience enough to carry
through with the treatments, the tests, the studies. Better that it look like
him. Better that it be a mishapen horror, that it be born a mutant, twisted
creature that he could never possibly develop attachments for. Better that way
for Lucrecia too.
"How are you feeling today, by
the way?" he asked, pulling a thick tome from the bookshelf and beginning to
thumb through it. Lucrecia glanced towards him, watching the reflected white of
the pages flashing in his glasses. "You rushed out of bed so quickly this
morning I didn't get a chance to ask. I wandered around for an hour earlier
looking for you. I approached a few of the Turks, the soldiers, the
assistants... no one had seen you. Did you go into town for
breakfast?"
"I went shopping actually, "she
answered, getting up from her chair stiffly, laying her work aside. Lucrecia
paced the room with slow steps. "I felt the need to indulge myself. And I wanted
a bit of time alone. I know soon I'll be cooped up, not a moment of peace. It
was nice to have a bit of breathing room for a while. Sorry to worry you,
love."
"No, I wasn't worried, "Hojo admonished
with a dry laugh, "With all the security running around, there's no safer place
in the world. I was just wondering, was all. But really, how are you? Any
abnormalties?"
Lucrecia laughed herself, moving
towards the door. She wouldn't tell him about the blood, about the pains. She
was sure it all was normal. "I've never been pregnant before, "she said softly,
"I wouldn't know."
"Oh, come on now, don't play
coy with me, "Hojo said with forced cheer, finally glancing up from his book,
"But I won't press, or insist we find complications. No news is good
news."
"Yes..."
Somehow, she didn't want to tell him. She didn't want to tell Gast or her
husband about the things she'd been going through these last weeks; about laying
in bed at night and biting her lip to keep from crying out in pain. About the
fevers at three am, or the constant dizziness that crouched behind her eyes. And
why? Why did she want to keep these things secret? It was all important data,
and they should all be told.
Lucrecia felt her
husband's eyes upon her but she wouldn't turn her head to meet his gaze. Maybe
she'd die and take this unfortunate, unborn child with her. Maybe. But she
didn't want that. Perhaps months ago she wouldn't have minded, but not anymore.
There was something else, someone else to keep living for now. Even
standing there in the lab with the glow from the Jenova tanks, the cold
atmosphere of the library, the harsh flourescent lights overhead, despite all of
this to block it out, Lucrecia still remembered a vision of Vincent from last
night in the garden. He'd been so angry. So so terribly angry with her and Hojo
and all of it; frustrated in a way that he hadn't been able to understand.
Lucrecia had to stay her hand from moving out to stroke a phantom as she
recalled his face, his young face stacked with thoughts too old for his
twenty-seven years. He was in the prime of his life but look what she’d burdened
him with. She’d unloaded her woes, her difficulties upon him, and given poor
Vincent enemies that not even a Turk could easily dispatch. And so he was
frustrated in his helplessness. And frustrated because he'd never been angry
with her before and didn’t know how to deal with it.
Maybe he'll blame Hojo. Perhaps Gast, or one of his Turk friends. But he
won't blame me, he doesn't know how. Lucrecia understood her poor, confused
lover so well. Better than he'd ever be able to understand himself. She feared
for him. So innocent. A naive little boy walking around with a gun. It made her
laugh at the same time it nearly made her cry. So angry in the moonlight in the
garden last night. So hurt, so frightened. So confused it hurt to
remember.
"--Lucrecia? Lucrecia?"
"...what?"
Hojo had called
her name five times already. "Go to bed. You look so wiped, I peer behind your
eyes and it's like there's no one there. Go upstairs now, rest yourself and the
baby. I'll be up later tonight."
"Maybe you're
right, "she answered listlessly, her mind still grappling with the other
thoughts. Why did it have to be like this? Why had she let a silly eighteen year
old fall in love? Why hadn't she said "no" when he'd asked? Patience... she'd
never had it. Never. She still didn't. The urge to follow Vincent's crazy dream,
to take what he'd offered out of that little velvet box, that desire was
intense. Replace this tarnished ring of gold with something new, something that
shone, something she could feel for and be honest with. She loved him so much it
made her breathless. She loved what she’d discovered behind the mask, loved the
little boy from Wutai whose life had been hell. She wanted to help him find
heaven. Her eyes misted over with happy tears at the thought.
Like a reminder from God, the baby kicked in her stomach. And
Lucrecia felt sick.
"Luv... "she began,
addressing her husband in such a way out of habit, leaning up from the doorframe
she'd been resting against.
"Hmm?"
"It isn't too late... “she whispered, “We could abort it
now, we could make it like it never happened."
"'Crecia!" Hojo laughed in surprise, "I can't believe you! Cold feet, that's all
it is. We made a pact. We both want the top, and we're both going to get it.
This little creature will grab all we want for us. Quit worrying."
The top... he was doing this for more than 'the top', she
was sure of it. That specimen... that ancient... sometimes... but no, that was a
stupid thought. Jenova was not only dead, but had been so for two-thousand
years. Hardly a threat to their marriage. Hardly a threat to her Hojo. Her Hojo.
But he wasn't hers anymore. And she didn't want him, she didn't mind the rift
that Jenova and science had made. If Vincent was there, she just didn't mind.
She could have her lover, Hojo could have his. And this unborn child even now in
her womb, swimming in a sea of chemicals, maybe it could find love some day too.
Lucrecia prayed for that; prayed that they'd all find conclusions. The deceit
couldn't continue, it had gone on for so long. If only there was something she
could do. But her hands were tied and everything revolved around the Project
now. It had stolen Hojo away. But it had given her Vincent.
In some ways she hated this baby in her stomach. In others, she
loved it.
It just wasn't fair.
“But what if I said that I... that I insist that we abandon
this.”
Where had that come from? It took her a
moment to realize she’d spoken the words aloud. Hojo looked up slowly from his
reading, his expression blank.
“If you said such
a foolish thing... “he began coldly, “I would have to be very upset, dear heart.
Too much time has gone into this. Besides, Gast would never allow it.”
“I think he might if I talked to him.”
“Why this change of heart?” Hojo put the book down and advanced
upon her. Lucrecia was amazed at how calm he was. Perhaps she’d underestimated
his control and he’d listen to her fairly afterall. She had imagined this
confrontation all night, ever since she and Vincent had spoken in the garden and
he’d left her with only bitter words as a reminder of his disapproval. “I’ll do
what I must to keep him, “she’d thought passionately, looking after his
retreating form, “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep him from looking at me with
those cold eyes, with that heart-rending disapproval.”
“I think that Professor Gast would allow me to cancel the experiment
before you would, love, “she continued, leaving the doorway and moving towards
the Jenova tank with determined footsteps, “And that fact bothers me. It’s been
bothering me for months. I can see it in your eyes, can see it when you look at
me and then when you look at that frozen ... THING... in the tank there.
You look at us the same way... It’s unnerving, unsettling. I don’t like it. I’m
HUMAN... that thing is a monster. Quite a difference, dearest. I
love you. That Jenova monstrosity does not.”
“What are you talking about?” Hojo asked, laughing in the back of his throat,
“You’re tired is all, ‘Crecia. It’s making you hysterical. And you’re nervous
about the Project. It’s perfectly understandable.”
“I will not be analyzed, “Lucrecia stated imperially. She was
before the tank now, her blue eyes darting from it to her husband in agitation.
“I’m not nervous, I just believe that my morals are starting to get to me. I’ve
been talking with people--”
“People--!” Hojo
spat, rushing forward and losing his cool without warning. His dark eyes were
rimmed with red, his high cheekbones flushed in fury. He jerked to a halt before
the woman and shouted his words into her face, “People?! Like whom? Like that
quiet little snake Vincent Valentine? People like that, dear heart?”
“N-no,” Lucrecia said timidly, shaking her head, “No, just
the other assistants, Gast himself. I-- “
“Don’t
lie to me, ‘Crecia, it demeans both of our intellects. What did the Turk prick
tell you, eh? That you can’t steal the future of an innocent fetus? You can’t
toy with nature? You’re a scientist, the top of your field. Act like it. And
remember, dear heart, that it takes two people to make a baby. And nine months
ago, you had absolutely no qualms. Nine months ago, you came to
me.”
“Nine months ago I was deluded. I
still thought you loved me I suppose.”
Hojo
frowned deeply at the words, his arms going out towards her before he could stop
them. But he did stop them, managing to hold back his feelings even as the
chemical-obscured face of Jenova glared down at him in something like reproach
from inside the glass tube. Hojo crossed his arms over his chest and looked away
from both his wife and the creature behind her. “I do love you, “he said,
attempting a half-hearted defense, “But you don’t understand. This is... gods...
this is the only way, ‘Crecia.”
“For you, if you
think that, than fine. But not for me, not anymore. It’s different now than it
was five months ago. I don’t want to be some tool of you and your monster’s.
You’ve forgotten who I am in your rush to make a murderer for President Shinra.
I’m Lucrecia Hojo and do you see this?” She held her wedding ring up before his
surprised face, wriggling her fingers slightly, “You gave this to me and along
with it, you gave me yourself. You can’t take either gift back. You can’t go and
give yourself to Jenova now, do you hear me?"
With the words, a horrible stillness descended over the library, a silence so
thick that Lucrecia could feel it pressing against her skin, cramming into her
eyes. Before her, embedded in that quiet, was Hojo’s drawn, white face, his
glittering, questioning dark eyes. But her eyes were clear. Despite it all, her
expression was cool. Why so cool with the words she'd just spoken? How am I
pulling this off? she wondered, even as she stepped backwards with tiny,
trembling footsteps, How am I saying these things, doing these things,
revealing these things to him after so long of just nodding my head and
letting him have his way?
Vincent.
If he could be strong, she could be too. Vincent. She’d say
that name like a prayer until the gods started to listen.
Lucrecia raised her right hand and laid it on the side of the cool
glass of Jenova’s tank, tapping it slightly with her fingernails, deep sonorous
sounds pervading the basement Library like rapid little heartbeats.
"Get your hands off of that."
Hojo's voice was a hiss that nearly threw her off, but Lucrecia ignored
his command. She turned to face him, her hand still on the tank, and gazed upon
her husband sadly. "Why?" she asked simply, "Why? Is she more important
than me now? When did this happen? And where was I when it did?"
"Don't be ridiculous, "Hojo snapped darting forward to
stand over her. The calm had parted to reveal the storm behind. His face was
contorted in stifled rage, his bony fists clenched at his side so that small
lines of blood dripped from his palms, where his fingernails had pierced his
skin. "She's just an experiment, the remnant of a dead civilization. Means
nothing to me. Did I marry Jenova? No, I married you. You're both my
responsibilities, but in different ways. Can't you understand that?"
"Oh, so you're 'responsible' for me, "Lucrecia laughed
hollowly, "I don't need that. I don't need a doctor to keep me healthy and out
of harm, I need a husband. Where did he go? What has this, this creature
done with him?"
"You're hysterical, "Hojo sighed
bitterly, turning from her and pacing the length of the small library, "And you
understand nothing."
"I understand enough. I
understand that this thing's more important than me. What am I now but another
part of this vast experiment you've concocted to prove her strength and your
genius? Just a thing that carries the little monster you're making--"
"Not a monster, "Hojo corrected with a shake of his
head.
"Monster enough, if he's a son of
yours."
The words were harsh and she regretted
them the moment they left her tongue. She almost visibly saw Hojo reel back
under the blow, his tired features looking past her and at the floor, face
nothing but a frown. "I... I'm sorry... "Lucrecia whispered, placing a hand on
his cheek, making him turn his face back up, making his brown eyes look upon her
again, "I didn't mean that. But do you understand my frustration? For seven
months we've slaved, you, Professor Gast, the assistants and I, we've slaved
over this thing! And we're losing eachother in the toils. And you... you're
losing something even more important than me, though I couldn't label it. It's
like... like you're becoming someone I don't know, wih ideas racing in your mind
that I can't relate with, nor would want to. Why do you feel you have to prove
yourself to the world? You don't have to outdo everyone, or outdo Professor
Gast, no one cares. No one laughs, though I know you think they do. All of this
competition, all of this fiery ambition is coming straight out of you. And it's
not necessary to lose yourself or me over this. Over this!"
Again she put her hands on the cold glass of the Jenova
tank. Only, it almost didn't feel cold. Hojo had his back to her, his eyes to
the floor again, and she could feel the thoughts racing through his tired mind.
They all were tired, exhausted after months of slave-like research and
work.
Lucrecia looked into the tank with a
spiteful expression. Jenova... she wished they'd never dug the bitch out of the
ice. It was bringing nothing but heartache. Seven months ago their toils had
finally born fruit, Gast's lifetime of studies paying off and paying big: an
ancient. A preserved Ancient, a fossil but moreso, more amazingly amazing than a
mere fossil. This creature was alive. It slumbered still in its
death-like sleep but it was alive and breathing and living and watching.
Lucrecia could feel it watching even now, watching her and Hojo and the rest
with a peaceful patience beyond anything she could imagine. The woman found her
attention suddenly drawn to the creature, the hand she had resting on the glass
feeling a small pull, the tug of a power greater than she was. Power... Jenova
was full of power she couldn't name. And it was doing things, even in its
apathetic patience, to her and those she cared for.
"I don't like it, "she said suddenly, making Hojo jerk his glance up
towards her.
"You never minded before, "he said
softly, voice tinged with bitterness, "The idea of making a creature with the
strength of those beings of old intrigued you so short a while ago. Where did
your enthusiasm go? Tired of the Project already? If only you had Jenova's
patience..."
"Don't speak of this thing as though
it's alive, "Lucrecia rebuked nervously, "Because it isn't really."
Hojo smiled to himself, folding his arms and stepping
towards his wife. The dim lighting of the library played around him, the soft
yellow fog of the electric lights glowing off his hair like a halo. “You
understand so little, dear heart, that it hurts me somehow. But maybe it’s
better you don’t understand. Naivete has a certain charm. But of course Jenova
is alive. She cannot die.”
“Cannot die? But all
things die, especially something that was frozen to death two thousand years
ago. I don’t care what you say, what the readouts say... that thing may be
technically alive, but still, I say it’s dead. How can you think
otherwise?”
Hojo stepped forward without warning
and roughly clamped his hand around Lucrecia’s right wrist, flinging her arm
away from the tank. He whipped about so that he stood with the glass to his
back, his wife to his front, expression full of shock. The Library stretched
cold and quiet around them both. “I know this because she told me, “he said
quickly, simply, “Dead things do not speak. But Jenova speaks to me. So she is
alive.”
“Let me help you, “Lucrecia whispered,
eyes wide, “Love, there’s something wrong with you, something... come with me,
come away from this monster, it’s doing things to you.”
“I don’t need you, ‘Crecia, “he muttered, turning his eyes away, “I just
need what’s inside of you. After you give birth, you can divorce me, leave me, I
know you haven’t been happy for a long time. But I WILL NOT let you fuck
up all of our hard work, our research, our pain just to gain the approval of
some ignorant Turk!”
“This has nothing to do with
Vincent!” she all but shouted, not even realizing that she was admitting her
unfaithfulness, not even caring, “I just can’t do this anymore! I can’t go
through with controlling this poor child’s... my poor child’s life! Yours
too you know! Your son!”
“My specimen, “Hojo
corrected quietly.
“Your son! And mine! Not
Jenova’s, I don’t care what you’ve injected us with, don’t care about the cells,
this is my child and I’m going to start taking responsibility for his
well-being...”
“You lost your rights as a mother
when you agreed to this, dearest heart. I’m sorry, but that is the case. Now go
scurry back to Valentine and tell him why you’re allowing a human baby to be
turned into a monster. Tell him why and see if he still cares for
you.”
“Tell him why?” Lucrecia whispered, “No.
You tell me why. I have no clue what you mean.”
“I simply meant that you may desire to explain the truth to him. The truth that
you freely participated, eagerly participated in the Project. And that
you cannot go back. You’re as “guilty” as any of us, ‘Crecia. Your hands are
just as dirty. Accept it.”
“I’ll never accept a
monster!” she screamed, throwing her fists out to her sides, shouting at both
Hojo and Jenova, a cold tear snaking from her eye. Hojo eyed her with blossoming
contempt.
“Jenova is hardly a monster, “he said.
Lucrecia shook her head.
“I speak of
you.”
Hojo looked profoundly calm for a moment,
his eyes narrowed in controlled disdain and pointed down at his wife. But then
his right hand tensed, veins standing out blue through pale skin, and he reared
his arm back, bringing it slamming towards Lucrecia’s unprotected face. There
was a sound and a cry and she stumbled backwards, cheek flaming red, a dab of
blood at the corner of her lips. Hojo advanced and shoved her to the ground,
face still lacking expression.
“I can only stand
so much, “the scientist stated coldly as she struggled to push herself back to
her feet, the tears coming freely now. “Give me the baby and then you’re free.
Then you’re free and I won’t try to stop you from leaving me, leaving the
company. I don’t want to work with you any longer, dear heart. You haven’t lived
up to my expectations--”
“And you haven’t lived
up to mine...”
Hojo smirked and Lucrecia noticed
with a bit of a start that his hands were trembling. “Yes, “he said, “Both of us
come away disappointed.”
Lucrecia crawled
backwards a bit towards the door, Hojo not making a move to help her back to her
feet, and then stood with some difficulty, leaning heavily against the wall. He
kept his back to her, his entire frame trembling and she wasn’t sure what to
make of that. Was he grieving? Or furious? Part of her wanted to run to him, to
protect him from others and from himself as she always had. But another part
craved to run to Vincent, and to BE protected. But from what though? The results
of her own egotism? Her own foolish unvaulted ambition? Hojo hadn’t lied. She’d
willingly agreed to participate in the Project. She’d wanted a super-Soldier
too, a way to become a somebody over night, to get out from under Gast’s shadow.
But it was so different now. Vincent... nothing else seemed to matter when she
thought of him. He was all that mattered, and the only thing she aspired
for anymore. But still...
“You won’t get this
baby, “she warned, leaning against the open doorway, wishing she could flee the
place forever, “I don’t care what I have to do. I’ll slit my own throat before I
let you get him. This is wrong, we have to stop. Gast will allow it, if I speak
to him, he’ll allow it if you’ll only back me up...”
“That’ll never happen and you know it.”
“Then I’ll find a way... you’ll see. I’ll find a way.”
Because she didn’t
understand.
The rest of the world didn’t
understand and he could deal with that. But Lucrecia, she’d always been there,
always known exactly what his aims were. Why not now? He felt so horribly alone,
so stranded in a place that no one else could get into. Alone with his ambitions
and that desire that never left him; that desire to outrace the sun, to outdo
all who'd come before him. If he succeeded, perhaps then he could find another,
but... but could there ever be another Lucrecia? A woman so caring and selfless,
his refuge from the world? Sometimes... sometimes he could swear that he kept
sane solely for her. The rest of the world was worthless, but his Lucrecia made
life worth living. Just a smile, a kind word, a kiss... just something so simple
could turn his aims to trivialities. Science was blasted to hell and there was
only her, the feel of warm arms around him, anchoring him, showing him just why
the world was gorgeous.
She was so beautiful...
how had someone so beautiful ever come to love him? It was easy to understand
why she was drifting away now. Drifting away to show someone else, perhaps
someone just as lost as he, why the world was gorgeous. Vincent Valentine, that
dark haired, dark eyed Turk.... but no, he couldn’t have her. He still needed
her, needed that piece of sanity or it all would slip away and there’d be
nothing to keep him from slipping away with it.
"Traitor..." he muttered half-heartedly beneath his breath, "Impatient as
always, 'Crecia. Impatient." If she'd only waited, waited for this baby to be
born, waited for the passion to leave so he could focus on her again, waited for
the Project to be complete, waited for Shinra to get off their backs about
results, waited for that day when they’d both be recognized and their son would
be a god among men... Didn't she realize that science was patience?
"Patience... "he muttered, his voice raspy and loud in the
still air of the library. He paced the room, teeth grinding. "You're patient
though, aren't you?" he asked, standing before the Jenova tank now. The mishapen
figure inside looked at him with eyes that saw nothing but still were alive.
They'd proven it was alive these past weeks. "Two thousand years buried beneath
the ice and you're still patient. Heh. A marvel, truly. Maybe I should have
married you."
Hojo laughed to himself, turning
from the tank and jabbing his hands in the pockets of his coat. "If not a wife
to me, than a mother to my son, "he whispered. "Lucrecia is too beautiful to
really be mother to that thing we're creating. But you, you're hideous enough.
And he'll be part of you, so yes. You'll be the creature's mother. And maybe
he'll inherit a bit of your patience. But are there aspirations in you as well?"
he wondered, approaching Jenova again. The professor laid a pale hand against
the glass and peered through the murky chemicals inside with bright eyes.
"Sometimes I wonder. But that's just me looking for poetry again."
What was this thing they'd pulled from the ice? An Ancient
truly? Had they all looked like that? Those perfectly sculpted, almost Greecian
features? Ifalna didn't look anything like this creature. She was beautiful too,
but in her own way, in a way that was almost human. But an Ancient? Looking
human? Didn't make much logical sense.
"I'm
starting not to care for humans too much, "the man admitted in a whisper,
putting a fist to his mouth. His ring glared at him, just at the corner of his
vision and he turned his hand to be rid of the sight of it. She'd changed, not
him. She'd become an impatient, selfish little bitch. Sneaking off like that?
Sneaking off? Did she think she was eighteen years old again? Where had
her maturity gone, her common sense, her logic? Those very things he'd always
admired her for, loved her for? Sneaking off with that dark, soft-spoken
Turk.
He could imagine the both of them together
and laughing at him as everyone had always laughed. But Lucrecia had never done
that to him. "She was always the exception, "he whispered to himself, leaning
with his back to the Jenova tank, his head in his hands, cold from the breezy AC
of the library. "But now what is she? She's betrayed my trust. And there's
nothing I can do. I have to keep working with her. I have to. But she’s right,
she’ll never give up that baby. I know my ‘Crecia and she’s stubborn."
Hojo sighed deeply, rubbing at his eyes, rubbing at his
throbbing temples. Valentine... the fucking Turk. This was all his fault. And
he’d pay somehow, if Hojo had to sell his soul to make it happen.
There was a trembling beneath his back, a shaking from
inside the tank. Hojo turned quickly about, breath catching in his throat. But
Jenova was as she'd been, her purple-veined, crimson features relaxed and frozen
and dead. Not dead though. Alive, he was sure of it.
But it didn't matter.
"Patient, patient,
patient, "he muttered, "If only the rest of the world could follow your
example."
Lucrecia cried silently and tried to get away from those piercing brown
eyes that seemed to see into her very heart and make out all the blackened
bitterness there; corrupt things she preferred to hide from. But Vincent
wouldn’t have it. He clamped a strong hand on each shoulder and forced her face
around to his.
“Answer me, Lucrecia! This has
gone on long enough, I won’t stand by while he beats you!”
“N-no, no, Vincent, you don’t understand, he was just upset, “she
stammered, “He’s always had a terrible temper and I pushed him too
far...”
“How can you say that?” the young man
pleaded, holding her shoulders tighter, features strained in frustration,
“Defend him? You come to me bleeding and then you defend his actions? Who do you
care more for? I need an answer.”
“Don’t make
me... “she sobbed, falling forward and clutching at the front flaps of Vincent’s
blue blazer. She pressed her fists and face into his chest, wishing she could
forever sink into him, never have to look at the disapproval on his face but
still be able to cloak herself in his warmth, to feel his silent strength
closeby. He let her cry, wrapping his arms around her back, lowering his lips
into her hair. But his eyes were hard and distant. He wanted to comfort her, but
all that came to his mind were rebukes. He felt more like her father than her
lover. Did she understand now? he wanted to ask, Did she understand now how
crazy Hojo was, how wrong this entire Project really was? Couldn't she see it
now? He saw, saw too well that this little experiment was eating away at her
body. What Hojo regarded as unfortunate side effects, Vincent saw as sacrilige,
desecrating a temple. How could he do that to her? How could she let
him?
How could I let him?
But he was just a Turk, and protecting the people under this roof was his
job. Whether one of them was Hojo or not. Could he blame that man entirely
though? Lucrecia voiced nothing but half-hearted protests. If she'd only put her
foot down, this all could have ended months ago. Why hadn’t she seen?
But his scoldings didn’t come. Hearing her sobs, Vincent
realized she didn’t need them. She understood how misguided she’d been and he
was glad. So maybe it was finally the right time.
“’Crecia... “he began softly, his breaths tickling her hair, “Do you want this
now?”
She looked up and saw he had that velvet
box in his hand again. The ring glittered in the dim light of the hallway they
both stood in like a beacon on a shore of refuge. Perhaps Hojo wouldn’t have any
of them...
“We’ll leave, “Vincent whispered to
her as she slowly drew the box from his hand, “I’ll give Levy my resignation and
we’ll go south, settle somewhere. I won’t let him hurt you again. He’d have to
get through me first.”
“And... and no one gets
through Vincent Valentine... right?” she murmered with a weak smile. He
chuckled.
“Right. So.... Lucrecia.... will you
marry me? I can give you so much more, give you what you need. Say
yes.”
She took her face from his chest and looked
upwards into his eyes. Big beautiful soft brown eyes with the longest lashes.
Lucrecia smiled and stroked his cheek, blinking away tears to see him better.
Those tears were annoyances and quite trivial when it came to him. The things
that had caused them seemed so far away. That Library... and Hojo... it all
seemed distant now that she was wrapped in his arms and warm and safe.
“I’m so sorry that I... that I said no last night. I didn't
know what I wanted, not really, “she whispered, beginning to cry again, “Even
now, I don't like the thought of leaving him unprotected from himself. He's
falling apart and I barely even know why. But I have someone else, two other
people I need to think about now... Vincent, can you forgive me and accept me?
I... I know it's probably too late now but... because, now... I-I want to tell
you yes with all my heart. Take me away and take my baby away too.”
“I won’t let him hurt either of you anymore, “Vincent
swore, steel in his voice. He held her tighter and made his vow. “I don’t care
what happens or what he tries, I’ll always protect you, you’re too precious not
to have a protector.”
“That would be nice, “she
choked, “To be protected for once. You won’t ever change, will you? Please
always be just as you are, Vincent. Because you’re perfect this way, almost too
perfect and that frightens me. Nothing gold can stay, that’s the way of the
world.”
“Don’t talk nonsense, “he scolded gently,
“I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. But the both of us are.”
“Yes... “ With some difficulty, Lucrecia pulled herself
away from him, her hands still pressed against his shirtfront. He wiped the rest
of the tears away from her eyes and she smiled at him warmly, a smile that lit
up her whole face like a lantern. “Yes, we’ll leave tonight, you and I. I’ll go
into the village and hire a driver, a truck. We’ll get out of here and never
look back.”
“Sounds like a plan, “he whispered
with a smile, “Go get ready, there isn’t time to lose. Careful going into
Nibelheim, don’t let any other guys catch your eye.”
Lucrecia laughed and stood on tiptoe to brush a kiss across his lips,
truly happy for the first time in months, a weight lifting from her heart. How
did he do that? Manage to wipe all the wrongs of the world away with one simple
decision? He made it sound so easy. And maybe it really was. She took a few
steps towards the doorway leading out to the stairs, making great show of taking
off Hojo’s ring and donning his. The thin band of gold shimmered in the dim
light, the single ruby sparkling like one red eye. But she was hesitant to
leave, to step through that doorway even though she knew that doing so would
trigger the beginning of a bit of real happiness in her life, true happiness for
the first time in so long. They’d conquer the world together, she and
Vincent.
But why couldn’t she quite leave him?
Something gnawed at her heart and she kept her bright eyes trained on his face,
as though to memorize its lines, engrave it in her mind. She wanted to stand
there forever, just like that, just looking at him and blessing her good
fortune. It seemed it could never be like this again, that these brief minutes
of decision were the crown on something that just couldn’t last. Her hands shook
as they fluttered over eachother, fingers finding his ring and marveling at the
warmth of the gold.
“Don’t leave, Vincent, “she
murmered, nearly breaking into fresh tears, “Please please don’t leave or
change. I’ll be back tonight, really soon, and we’ll both leave
together...”
“It’s alright, it’s alright, “he
comforted, expression soft, “I’ll always be here for you, no matter what
happens. He won’t have you. I’m going to take care of you now.”
She smiled crookedly, leaning in the doorway, weak with relief and
just a little pain. But she wouldn’t complain, not to him, not after what he was
prepared to do for her. He’d just give up his life, his career, something he’d
struggled and fought to become, he’d let it all go to hell just to take her
away. “I love you so much, “Lucrecia murmered before forcing herself to leave
the hallway. He nodded and smiled, words unnecessary. What he felt for her was
demeaned by the word “love”. He wouldn’t use the term, it didn’t convey enough.
He’d die for her in a heartbeat because he knew he could never live without her.
She was his other half. The funny thing was, he’d never realized how dead he
was, how imbalanced he was until he’d met her. Now he didn’t think he could go
back to being half a man.
He stood, taking deep,
calming breaths after she'd left his sight. The sound of his own hearbeat
hammered in his ears like a giant bashing on his skull or his thoughts bashing
outwards from behind his eyes, dizzying him with a headache. It was repressed
rage that longed to be released, he recognized it in an instant. Normally he
killed things when he was this pissed. Normally he fucking killed whatever it
was that was aggravating him. But this situation was different, it had to be
disarmed like the Turk might disarm a bomb. Delicate, with finesse and
skill...
But damn... Hojo. He mentally said those
two evil syllables and his hands clenched into fists, his eyes smouldering with
fire. Vincent stalked to the end of the hallway and pressed his forehead against
the glass of the dusty cold window there. Lucrecia was leaving the mansion and
heading into town, he could see her frail form far below, moving off like a
white scarf blown by the wind. And so it seemed, the winds were picking up,
roaring about his lover and screaming in the eaves of the already rotting old
mansion. A million voices in that wind and none of them sounded friendly. They
were bringing a storm, the Turk could see it in the distance, massed pillows of
blacks and greys and greens blowing in from off the faraway mountains. A few
spatters hit the window and Vincent stepped back, lightening flickering like a
broken lantern in the heavens. Perfect time for a storm, he thought bitterly, It
storms when we plan to leave tonight. Maybe God's against our whole plan. Maybe
He'd rather we stay here and bow to Hojo so He's sent a storm.
Terrific.
Or maybe Hojo's in league with a devil.
Heh, maybe he is a devil.
Vincent chuckled
darkly to himself, jamming his fists in his pockets and walking back to that
doorway Lucrecia had fled from a few minutes ago. The increasing blasts of the
thunder from outside added to the pounding of his heartbeat in his ears and
golden dust motes flew about the Turk's tall form so that it seemed the hallway
had its own little storm raging.
Down there
laughing now? Vincent wondered, leaning inside the doorway of the darkened
bedroom. The stone passageway leading to the Library caught the lightening and
shimmered, almost an invitation. Down there scheming, playing with his
specimens... wondering how he'll hurt her next. And all the while, Lucrecia just
takes it, Gast just ignores it, and the assistants scrape and simper to his
every whim. Levy and Jimmy... they just avoid the snivelling little bastard. And
so have I. I've passed him a thousand times and kept my eyes straight ahead
instead of boring into his and challenging him. It's sickening.
"Vincent... Vincent, don't."
Jimmy
approached quickly from behind, looking up imploringly at his friend. Vincent
hadn't even realized it, but he'd entered the bedroom and had one foot on the
staircase. "Don't," the Turk said again, almost pleading, "I heard it all, all
of your plans. And I don't give a damn, the both of you can just leave now, no
mess, I won't say a word and Levy won't either. But just leave Hojo alone, you
don't need to go down there... take what you want and leave..."
Vincent slowly shook his head and turned away.
“I’ll see ya around, Jimmy, I have business to attend to. I have a
little prick I need to beat into the ground.”
Before he could think twice about it, Vincent felt his hand pushing on the cool
stone of the rock wall opposite the bedroom’s entrance. There was a click and
the wall moved backwards, a gush of cold, sterile air blowing in his face, laced
with dust and mildew. Vincent didn't like coming down here, he didn't like the
smell. But she’d been bleeding. He’d struck her. And his trivial experiments
were hurting her health.
Disrespect.
Hojo was disrespecting the most sacred creature in the
world and that couldn’t go unpunished. He’d take her from here, but he’d leave
that bastard something to remember them by.
"Not
that I'm concerned, "he called as he thumped down the staircase, form
disappearing into the gloom, "But if Levy asks, you never saw me come down here.
And you don't know anything about where Lucrecia and I have disappeared to after
tonight."
A crack of lightening and Jimmy
bristled, fingers turning cold in unease. The sky was black with storm and the
light had gone. He had to find someone soon before he began to panic, being on
the second floor alone at night during a storm bothered even his tough as
nails Turk courage. He watched Vincent's descent until his friend's unruly head
of dark hair had disappeared into the dark and then he fled for the staircase,
his heart in his throat.
Jenova didn’t answer him but Hojo wasn’t surprised, wasn’t that insane just yet.
The creature was nothing but a mass of frozen tissue, it could not answer him,
could offer no comfort. But he wished it could, that he could lay a hand on that
cold glass, and those icy features obscured by the chemicals would suddenly
blossom into life, into a warm, living face full of compassion. But his words
echoed hollow and empty back to his ears. The library was hollow and empty and
for just a fraction of a second, Hojo lost his desire. He wondered just why he
was so bound and determined to succeed, why he’d pushed her away, used
her, sickened her, hurt her. How did Gast manage it? To be so benevolent and
still so brilliant.
“I’ll never be Gast...” he
sighed to himself, resting his forehead on the glass of the tank. Frowning, hair
hanging in his face, Hojo rubbed his fingers into his eyes, the stinging there
surprising him. Would he cry because she didn’t love him anymore? From the tear
running down his cheek, it would appear so. He smeared the wet away and onto the
glass, examining it mutely. He wondered briefly if Jenova had ever been able to
cry two thousand years ago. But such a stupid thought. He always got caught up
in the poetry. That was why he’d never be like Gast. One reason of
many.
If only she’d stayed, he thought forlornly,
if only that Vincent Valentine bastard hadn’t tempted her, corrupting her
thoughts with phantom dreams of morality. Morals were for other people, not for
scientists attempting to create gods. He’d sucked the life right out of their
happiness like some greedy vampire hungry for blood, swooping in as dark and
quiet as the evening sky, snatching her from him, taking her heart away. He
didn’t deserve her, that thieving, ignorant sonnuvabitch. Didn’t deserve her
love.
Hojo found himself tensing with his
thoughts of that Turk. He’d hated him ever since he first saw him in Shinra’s
office; hated his face, his eyes, his silence. Hated the reproach that radiated
from his gaze, hated the way the other Turks respected him while hating Hojo
himself. No one respected Hojo. But everyone seemed to respect Valentine. And
Lucrecia loved him. Why? Why didn’t she love Hojo?! Why had she changed,
abandoned him for an insignificant moron with a blue suit and a gun? How could
you ever love someone so meaningless? Yet it must truly be love... and Hojo
envied that horribly.
Footsteps... on the blasted
spiral staircase leading down from the second floor. Too heavy to be ‘Crecia’s,
perhaps one of the assistants. But it was so late, they all should have retired.
Whatever. Regardless of who, Hojo couldn’t let anyone walk in here and see him
kneeling before the Jenova tank like a fool, tears in his eyes. They already
laughed at him enough, they didn’t need more material for their jokes. Cursing
softly, he got to his feet, back to the door, and half-heartedly began recording
data from the computer readouts spewing from a terminal connected to the tanks.
Maybe he could lose himself in work for a while, shove these too human problems
from his mind.
But I am still human, he thought
bitterly, and that’s why this is a such a god damned hassle.
Footsteps down the hallway now, coming rapidly, heatedly closer.
Someone was pissed, he thought absently. And from the rumble of thunder echoing
down from above, so was the sky. The idea that it was going to storm struck him
blankly and he welcomed it. Suiting that the weather should match his mood,
maybe somebody was paying attention afterall.
Just as an especially impressive peal of thunder crashed to his ears from above,
the door to the Library blew open furiously, connecting with the opposite wall
in a deafening crash.
“HOJO!!”
At the sudden intrustion, the scientist blinked hard and
whipped about, wondering who the hell in the mansion besides perhaps Gast might
address him so informally. They could laugh as they would behind his back, but
by hell, he’d be respected as he deserved to his face, he’d enforce that with a
vengeance. A rock-hard fist in his head knocked any other thoughts from his
mind. Hojo went down in a heap. And the thunder laughed in his ears.
“You bullying bastard!” tore a voice through the air,
through his mind, “How dare you treat her like that! I’ll rip you in half, blow
a hole in your heart if I find it in there somewhere!”
On the floor...? How’d he get there? Giving a little moan, Hojo pushed
himself up on his elbows, smearing blood from his nose, ears ringing. He turned
around and saw Valentine looming tall and dangerous with indignation. He
absently noticed the bits of cobwebs, mildew, and rotten wood on the toes of the
Turk’s shiny black shoes. Why had Shinra built them this mansion? This was no
civilized place.
“You arrived along with the
storm, I see. That too is suiting, I suppose, you've always been as bleak and
unwelcome as the rain." Hojo muttered curses and feebly struggled to stand. As
an afterthought, he threw in, "I'll have your job for this."
Vincent kicked him savagely with those scuffled shoes, then jumped
backwards, trembling in rage, trying not to draw his gun.
“I’ve already said to hell with the Turks, with Shinra, with you.
I don’t care anymore, it isn’t important. Only she matters. And I’ll take
care of anything or anyone that threaten her.”
“Ah, so you are fucking the little bitch, “Hojo laughed, on his feet now
and leaning against the tank. He tried to stop the world from spinning before
his eyes but was met with little success. “I’d suspected it, but I wasn’t sure.
She’s good, eh?”
A muffled roar and Vincent leapt
for him like a cat, breaking through any kind of weak defense the scientist
could attempt. His right fist hooked under Hojo’s jaw and knocked him back hard
against the tank, then a knee shot up and jammed into his stomach, an elbow to
the base of his neck. Quick, sharp, accurate blows, the kinds only a trained
Turk knew. Hojo was impressed even as he cried out. “Why so upset?” he insisted,
crumpled on the ground and spitting out blood, “She loves you, so be satisfied!
You two can have eachother, there’s nothing I can do. Love sucks that way.
Lucrecia--”
“Don’t say her name!” Vincent roared,
ready to pound him again. By every God in heaven, when he said those three
syllables they sounded like the dirtiest word in existance. How did he manage
that? Vincent demanded silently, How did he do it?
Hojo laughed, cocking an ear up at the distant thunder.
“She’s my wife.”
“Not anymore.
She’s leaving you, she just told me. She’s sick of your insanity, sick of your
twisted face. She’s mine, Hojo. You’ve lost her.”
“Heh. Boo hoo.”
Blood trickling ticklishly
down the side of his forehead, Hojo pushed himself up off the tank, ignoring
Vincent who stood with spread feet and bent knees, like a tiger just waiting to
pounce again. He wanted to peel that smirk off his face, knock him back to the
ground and grind his heels into his ribs. Hojo deserved pain, a thousand
lifetimes of pain after hurting Lucrecia so badly, forcing her to give herself
to the Project, to something so evil and unnatural. There was no fear or concern
about what Jimmy had said. This skinny little scientist was as much a threat as
a stray dog. He just needed to be put down was all, needed to be
humbled.
“Why do you suppose she loves you so
much?”
Hojo asked the question without malice or
mockery. He honestly wanted to know. Vincent eyed him suspiciously, dark
eyebrows arched, short black hair waving in the AC breeze. His tie was crooked
and he straightened it before answering. “Don’t you think I ask myself that
question everyday? But I don’t think I matter, I think to her, anyone would be
better than you. Perhaps I was just lucky to be there at the time she was ready
to end the charade she’s been living with you. Perhaps it could have been
anyone, I was just lucky.”
“You don’t give
yourself much credit, do you?” Hojo asked, nursing his sore jaw and pacing the
Library, “Your naivete and selflessness are almost sickening, you know that?
Where do you get off acting the perfect gentleman, ya sadistic murdering
psychopath? Act as you should, blow a hole in my head. Please, Mr. Turk, live up
to your reputation.”
“You know nothing of the
Turks, “Vincent said in disdain, pride in his voice, “Nothing of me. Do
not make up a personality for me, Professor. Do not delude yourself into
thinking she fell in love with anything less than what I am.”
“And what are you? Ha... you’re a pretty little bad boy with a
heart of gold. A contradiction in a thousand and one ways. But hell, if I swung
that way, I’d lay you.”
Vincent shook his head in
disgust as Hojo giggled. His hand was close to his gun but he dare not allow his
fingertips to brush the steel. The feel of a cold gun in his hand would be too
tempting, he’d never be able to stop himself if he started. “You’re insane, “he
muttered, “You call me crazy but it’s you. So you can rot in here with your
monster, with this Jenova monstrosity you and Professor Gast seem to care for so
dearly. But she and I are leaving now... I’m taking her from you, outta this
god-forsaken mansion, and away from that monster!”
“You cannot escape Jenova, Valentine, “Hojo said matter-of-fact, “You
never can. Haven’t you been paying attention? Don’t you know?”
“Know what?”
Hojo turned and smiled
at him sadly. His eyes were full of tears. But Vincent knew that crocodiles
cried too. “She’ll be dead soon.”
“What the hell
are you talking about?”
“Your new lover, “Hojo
replied in a flat tone, “She won’t survive the birth. There’s no way, not with
how she’s weakening. That child is sucking the life right out of her. She’s
going to die.”
Vincent stared at the scientist
for what seemed like forever, unblinking and solemn. The words didn’t register
with him, he wouldn’t let such things sour his ears. A lie, a trick, something
to distract him. “It’s not true, “he said softly, features amazingly cool,
amazingly devoid of expression. It wasn’t true because it couldn’t be. The gods
weren’t that cruel.
“If it comforts you to be
delusional, by all means continue, “Hojo said mockingly, his tears remedied with
a wipe from the sleeve of his coat, “But I’ve studied the results and both
Professor Gast and I came to the same conclusion. It is unquestionably sad,
frightfully unfair. Yet, I suppose you can’t make an omelette without breaking
some eggs.”
Hojo couldn’t believe he was able to
be so cocky and cool about it. Oh well, better to feel nothing at all than to
feel hurt. She deserved it now anyway for her impatience and unfaithfulness. Let
her die, if freedom was what she desired. And let Valentine suffer alongside
her, let him be as alone as Hojo was now.
He was
stumbling back towards the door, eyes to the ground, horror in his face. “I’m
taking her away from you, “he muttered, “Away from all of this... you won’t
touch her again...”
“After the baby comes, you
may do what you want with her remains, “Hojo said coldly, resting both hands on
the cool wood of his desk, “Bury them, burn them, scatter her ashes over your
favourite make-out spot. But she cannot leave until she’s concluded her donation
to the ‘Project’. Too much has been risked in the making of that creature she
carries; enormous amounts of gil, time, and resources. The success of the
venture may not be jeopordized.”
“To hell with
all of that garbage! To hell with you and Gast and Shinra! You can’t use her
like an animal, I won’t allow it! We’re leaving, and you can’t stop us. Leaving
right now. Take your science and shove it up your ass.”
“She cannot leave.”
“Heh. If it comforts
you to be delusional, by all means continue.“ Vincent smirked to himself, then
turned and headed for the way out, determined to go through with his plans. Hojo
watched his retreating back with eyes clouded red from his worthless tears, his
fingernails scratching at his desk absently. The sounds were loud in the still
air but that Turk’s footsteps were louder, louder than the shouting thunder
even. ‘Crecia couldn’t leave. She couldn’t leave him and take that baby,
couldn’t leave him alone. And she wouldn’t leave if that dark, silent prince of
hers wasn’t around to escort her. Where was it? That weapon Gast had told him
of, in case of emergencies or maddened specimens? Ah...
“Vincent...” Hojo called hesitantly, taking a step after him. The fleeing
Turk turned roughly about, his face set like stone, determination in place. The
very atmosphere of the room was starting to nauseate him. But was it the
atmopshere or something else? Maybe just Hojo’s presence. Maybe just this sense
of dread in the pit of his stomach.
“I don’t want
to hear anymore. I don’t speak with madmen, it’s a waste of my time.”
But Vincent halted anyway, as though something had grabbed
a hold of his collar and jerked him back. He uneasily crossed his arms, some
chill making him shiver, the air conditioning, or just a stray mountain draft.
Something. Something was wrong. The dark of the hallway outside pressed against
his back, and Hojo’s leering, eager eyes darted into his own like knives. The
tank, test tubes, equipment; glass all over, sparkling in his vision, making him
dizzy, yet it didn’t really, he wouldn’t allow it to. But all of it, this
god-forsaken, looming place full of misguided ambition and monsters, hidden
behind the walls of a beautiful mansion, hidden in the quiet of a nondescript
village, hidden in the shadow of the mountains... it was all so strange and he
suddenly couldn’t understand how he’d allowed himself to get caught up in any of
it. He didn’t belong here and neither did Lucrecia; here in a mansion full of
cruelty and monsters. This monster... Hojo... was the sickest of all, the most
threatening.
“Please humor me though, “the
scientist insisted, taking another step forward, “Please tell me how much you
love my Lucrecia... you won’t leave her stranded ever, will you? Will you always
be there for her, be there like I couldn’t be? I’m sure the both of you made
such promises to eachother, exchanged oaths beneath the stars, but did you mean
them? What would you do for her, Valentine? Anything in the world,
right?”
The Jenova tank glittered in the shadows.
Vincent found his eye wandering to that serene face in the chemicals, his mind
racing. Veiny purple face surrounded by bubbles and mako, staring out through
the glass at the two men. What was it thinking? he demanded in slight panic,
What did it know? He was just a Turk, he didn’t understand nor care to
understand anything about it or what they were doing with it. Suddenly,
Vincent wanted out of that laboratory, wanted to leave more than he’d ever
wanted anything else in his life. It was like the walls, the boiling test tubes,
the buzzing machines and the gurgling tanks were all shouting one word:
Run.
But Turks didn’t run, they stood
their ground and dished it out.
Eyes narrowed,
Hojo kept approaching, his hands buried in the pockets of his coat, his drawn
pale face turned up to watch Vincent’s. “Anything?” he asked again, expression
almost sad, “Star-crossed lovers are so depressing. Unrequited love is
interesting but painful. It’s so sad. Maybe the both of you deserved it. My
‘Crecia certainly did. But she cannot leave, not yet.”
Vincent looked almost terrified, a controlled, half-hidden terror that
was the worst kind to watch. He took a step backwards, darting his right hand
inside the flap of his jacket, but Hojo beat him to it. A gun was suddenly
between them, a barrel waving in the Turk’s face, glinting in the florescent
light the same way that the Jenova tank did. Glinting with potential Death.
Buckets of rain plummeted from above, a muffled pebbley sound from far overhead,
stacatto to the thunder's bass. The far away noise only made the Library's
silence even more deafening. Vincent held his breath.
“You shouldn’t have gotten involved, you miserable cretin. You’ve brought
this on yourself. She cannot leave. I won’t allow it. And I’m sorry to say, Mr.
Valentine, that you won’t be leaving either. You think you can have her? That
you can take her because you want her like a child wants his candy? Your looks
can't get you everything, your eyes can't buy love and your skills are worthless
here. Ha...”
“You’re clueless...” Vincent
growled, eyes glued on that gun, “You don’t know what we have and you don’t
really know what I am.”
“Why don’t you fucking
tell me then?! Tell me, Valentine, wow me with the depths of your soul, and make
me into a believer!”
Hojo laughed crookedly and
jammed the barrel of the gun into Vincent’s neck, sweat beading out on his
clammy brow, running down the sides of his face like hot oil. Vincent felt the
wall at his back, the cold barrel at his neck, crushing into his windpipe. He
wouldn’t die in this place, Lucrecia was waiting for him to come back and keep
his promise.
“I’m just a Turk, “he said calmly,
“Just a nobody.”
“No... “Hojo shook his head,
cocking the pistol in his hand. It was heavy, heavier than he thought a gun
should be, but then, he’d never held one before, “That day in Shinra’s office, I
saw you as something else, something beyond the realm of reason... and my
‘Crecia, she saw you too and I swear to God you made her love you, you swept her
off her feet like any dashing monster might. And it wasn’t her fault in the end,
isn’t her fault now. It's all you.”
“No, it's
you. It’s all your fault, “Vincent whispered, swallowing hard, throat knotting
past the jammed barrel of the gun, “All your own. And you’re the only monster
here...”
“NO! No, I am the better one! I
am the one who beat you to her, who loved her for years and gave her my life.
You slunk in and took it all away. If only your handsome young face matched the
devil that’s inside, you wouldn’t be such a contradiction, such a lie, such a
danger to her...”
“You’re god damned insane!”
Vincent said in a raised voice, “There’s nothing to me but what you see! A Turk
that in the end was better than you!"
"Like
hell... oh gods, like hell is that true. I'll never give into that, ever!
I wonder if I can't figure you out, if I can't fix what God screwed up when He
made you. I wonder if you'd be worth it. But you can have a purpose, have a use
to me, I can make you have a use."
"I won't do
shit for you..." Vincent growled, fingers curling into claws and digging into
the wall at his back. Hojo stared at him for a moment, loosening the push of the
muzzle into his neck just a fraction. His dark eyes were contemplative, his
breathing fast and loud against the hollar of distant rain. Sticky hot sweat ran
down them both. Hojo broke the confrontation with a final sigh, whipping his gun
around and taking a few quick steps away. Vincent almost fell to his knees,
Hojo'd had him pressed that tightly against the wall. He stumbled forward,
rubbing his throat and trying to catch his breath. He straightened and adjusted
his jacket.
"I knew you wouldn't, "he said
darkly, "You're not that stupid, you couldn't shoot me. A slow death in the gas
chamber isn't your kinda thrill, huh? Idiot." Vincent looked up from his
grooming, smearing sweat off his forehead, and saw that Hojo had the gun raised
again. The Turk cocked a cool eyebrow his way. "You don't scare me, "he said
softly, "Just put the thing away, it's painful for me to watch an amateur with a
gun."
Vincent glanced up when he didn't get an
answer and saw Hojo's face looked odd, somewhat off. There was a gleam in his
eyes that made the Turk want to choke. Gun wavering, Hojo chuckled dryly. He
squinted one eye shut and aimed.
“Hojo,
no--!”
Throwing off his attitude, Vincent darted
forward and grabbed for the gun but Hojo wrenched to the side and fired. Instead
of a shattering crack, a silencer muzzled the sound of the bullet that tore from
the chamber and sent the two men stumbling apart. Vincent felt a fire roll
through his arm and chest and collapsed to his knees, staring down dumbstruck at
all the red. He tried to speak a curse but only chokes came out and he fell
forward hard in a splash of blood.
Panting and
trying not to throw up, Hojo looked down at the mess he'd made. He shakily put
the gun away in his desk drawer and absently rubbed both hands on the front of
his coat though there was nothing there. Ragged breaths from the bleeding Turk
on the floor. Spreading blood on the tiles though that didn't bother him, he was
a doctor afterall. Then a gurgling voice, strained words. Hojo approached his
victim hesitantly.
"...I c-can't believe you did
that..." Vincent whispered, eyes closed and feverish cheek pressed hard to the
cold floor, "...but I don't care, ya can have my life. Just leave her alone
now... let her go now..."
"Heh, "Hojo laughed
nervously, "You have such a one track mind. I was aiming for your head so I
wouldn't have to listen to your whining. Damn. But as you said, I am an
amateur.”
"...please..."
"Where'd your attitude go, Turk?" the scientist demanded, growing more
confident, "You pathetic sonnuvabitch. Who's better now?"
Vincent couldn't answer, he could barely stay conscious. His icy
fingers grappled at the tiles, blood in his lungs keeping him from breathing
properly. When he forced his eyelids open, he saw that the bullet had ripped
through his left forearm and ploughed a diagonal path through his torso and out
his shoulder. The look of triumph on Hojo’s face made him close his eyes again.
He listened to the thunder and waited to die. He could swear he heard Lucrecia's
voice somewhere, calling his name. He wished he could answer.
Grinning arrogantly, Hojo swung himself up on an examination table
and sat with his hands in his lap, legs dangling off the edge. The air was quiet
and empty, even the hum of the air conditioners had died away. Just thunder and
the soft gurgling from the chemicals and filters supporting Jenova’s tank. And
the ragged gasps for air.
“Just die! Just give it
up and die, you stubborn bastard.”
Vincent was
trembling and bleeding to death and Hojo just stared coldly at him, impatiently
tapping his fingertips together. Gast could come in, or one of the assistants,
or even ‘Crecia. They couldn’t see what he'd done or Vincent's words would wind
up true. He'd be executed for murder, surely. “You won’t beat me, Valentine,”
the scientist promised aloud, “I won’t die over this, I’ll never let them find
your body. Ha! Think on that before you die, you bastard. They’ll never find
you, she’ll never know what happened. Maybe you just left in the dead of
night because you decided you didn’t want her anymore, didn’t want that bundle
of chemicals she’s going to give birth to. Precious Lucrecia will curse you as a
liar and hate you with every bit of her soul. Think on that,
Valentine.”
“P-please... please
don’t...”
“What’s that?”
Hojo hopped off the table, pushing his glasses back on his nose absently.
He approached Vincent quickly, like a puppy whose just spotted a lizard he’d
like to chew on for a while. He walked until he stood with his patent leather
shoes in the puddle of blood surrounding Vincent’s weakly thrashing form. He
bent his face close to his rival’s. “Few people have ever pleaded with me,
begged me for something. Do it again, I like the sound of it.”
But Vincent wouldn’t. He turned his face away and lay his
fevered cheek against the cold stone, knowing he didn’t have long. He’d been
shot a couple times in his career but he’d never felt like this before. Death
was sitting heavy on his chest. But Lucrecia’s face sat heavy in his heart,
before his closed eyes. No... it had ended before it had begun. He couldn’t die
and leave her alone with Hojo, without a protector, cold and lonely and at the
mercy of a lunatic. A fiery sharp pain in his arm made him cry out in agony,
tears with a thousand different causes springing from his dimming brown
eyes.
Hojo took his heel away from the
bulletwound with a little sneer. “How could she love you?” he asked in complete
and total mystification. "I don’t understand.”
“Let... her go. Don’t keep her here.”
“Shut
up.”
Hojo stared at him for a moment, his arms
crossed, his expression thoughtful. His right hand nervously rubbed his left
arm, fingers twitching in agitation. His eyes looked distant again, as they had
before he'd pulled the trigger. "Do you see where it's all gotten you,
Valentine?" he asked after a while, quietly. He wasn't even sure if Vincent
could hear him anymore, but he spoke. "Maybe it wasn't your fault and this was
just destined to happen. Let's keep screwing around with destiny, eh? Let's have
some fun."
Vincent was somewhere between alive
and dead, leaning towards the latter, but he was conscious enough to feel two
hands pulling at his jacket, sliding him over the cruel hard floor. The blood
soaked into his clothes helped in the journey and Vincent moaned at the way his
taut shirt cut into the bulletwounds. He could feel a flap of skin from his
forearm hanging off, blood gushing up and over the shattered bone and felt sick.
But that was nothing. It was the wounds the bullet had made ricocheting around
inside his chest that were killing him. He diagnosed himself with a detached,
half-mocking attitude, groaning when those two arms dragging him found the
strength to heft his slim form up onto something hard and cold and flat. He lay
on his stomach until those hands flipped him clean onto his back, arranging his
limp arms at his sides and cutting off his white shirt. The garment came off,
heavy with blood, then was tossed away like a discarded toy.
Iciness crept over him and he shivered violently, numb with pain.
But at least it was getting harder to think. There was a pinprick in his neck
suddenly, hardly noticeable amidst the rest of his agony and finally he began to
slide away towards something dark.
Muffled
blackness and muffled thunder and muffled rain. He wished he'd listened to
Jimmy. Vincent wished he'd taken her away when he'd been able. Now who would
protect her? Now who would keep her and her baby safe from Hojo?
The thoughts dissipated and there was only the faraway
storm to concentrate on. And then finally there was nothing at all.
Hojo could swear to God that she was. That veiny purple face
behind the chemicals was eyeing him with some passionate intensity.
"What?!" he shouted out into the empty air, "You have a
problem with something?"
No answer of course. The
scientist manipulated his forehead around and swiped at some ticklish sweat with
his shoulder. He always got all itchy when he operated and it was least
convenient. He would inevitably wind up smearing blood on his face when his nose
started itching and he couldn't stand it anymore. It already seemed like
Valentine's blood was all over the place, he didn't need it on the tip of his
nose too.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Hojo
knew he was going to have to clean the gory mess up before morning, come in here
with a bucket and get down on his hands and knees and SCRUB, but that was
something to get aggravated about later. Right now, he needed to fulfill this
burning desire in his heart and finish his operation. Then he could stash the
results, burn his clothes, and it would be like Vincent Valentine and never
walked into his life and fucked it up. The only reminder would be locked up
where it could never bother anyone else again. Poetic justice will have been
served, irony dished out in a heap, and Hojo could go back to the Project with a
clean conscious.
But first he had to finish up on
Vincent.
Damn.
An
artery burst open under his trembling scalpel and Hojo sighed inaudibly,
reaching for a suture. He was a wreck tonight, and damned lucky that Valentine
hadn't died already under his clumsy surgeons work. Too much coffee, he supposed
absently, watching his shaking hands. And the fact that Jenova was staring at
him didn't help.
"Do you have a problem with
this?" he asked again, looking beligerently towards the tank, "I mean seriously,
if you do, speak up. This is something I have to do for me.
Alright?"
He didn't really expect the thing to
talk back but it was quiet in the Library and almost just nice to shout out and
hear his own voice in his ears, strained as it was. Jenova moved not a muscle,
but then she never did. Just floated there in the liquid with shadows for eyes
and a million wires and monitors sticking out of her flesh. She frightened him
sometimes. When he was up there working alone and all of the assistants had gone
home for the night and it was quiet and still except for the creaks of the
mansion and his own rapid heartbeat, Hojo could swear he heard her breathing. A
deep, ponderous breath out of invisible lungs. But he just had an overactive
imagination.
Setting down his blood-slicked
scalpel, Hojo picked up his patient's mutated left arm and began fiddling with
it, adjusting the newly soldered joints of the fingers. The damage to the human
arm had been too severe, he hadn't been able to save it, so Hojo had replaced
it, in the process proving a key theory of the Jenova Project: Jenova cells
could indeed improve and even replace human tissue. He'd used them to grow
Vincent a new arm, the results simply hadn't been very pretty. A mass of twisted
flesh and claw. He'd plated the monstrosity in bronze to strengthen it and
fulfill his own aesthetic need. The claw was damned beautiful, he thought.
Lethal too and essential to the other alterations he'd made on the
man.
"I dare you to complain, "he snapped aloud,
"You're lucky to be alive at all, you poor bastard." Hojo frowned to himself,
laying the claw back at Vincent's side and then moving away to work on the rest
of him. He was getting tired and it was almost morning, time to wrap this
unhappy nonsense up and then begin his string of lies to Lucrecia.
Thunder broke from overhead like a mountain crumbling and
Hojo jerked his head up to look at Jenova again, impatience in his
face.
"What?!"
But
it seemed she wasn't looking at him now. The sightless monster had her gaze
pointed past him and towards the door of the Library. Hojo gave in to his
insanity and let his gaze follow hers, scoffing at himself. But indeed, there
was something to see.
He thought his eyes were
playing tricks on him at first, picking out phantom faces from the gloom, but
no, there was someone standing in the doorway; a single pale face with his mouth
opened wide into an O of surprise. His bare hand clutched the doorframe to
steady himself. Hojo dropped his tools and stepped away from his work, towards
the new arrival. He could feel Jenova's burning eyes digging into his
back.
"Jimmy, isn't it?" the scientist called,
approaching the young Turk quickly. His arms and shirtfront were covered in gore
but he forgot about it, absently scratching his nose and getting blood on his
face. Jimmy eyed him like a mouse in front of a charging lawnmower, too
overwhelmed to speak. He was going to say something, but there was really
nothing to say. His friend and coworker was sprawled out dead on an operating
table with his chest cut open and blood pooled about him. And the guy who was
carving him up like a turkey had his hands out and a deathly expression on his
face. Jimmy backed up and took off running, uttering every swear word he
knew.
"Shit!"
Hojo
was chasing after him before he could think about it. Jimmy thundered along the
hallway in clumsy desperation, his blazer off and his shirt a fluttering white
bird in the gloom. He had his eyes fixed on the spiral staircase and his flung
himself towards it, wishing he could fly, blinking hard to rid his mind of the
image he'd seen. He heard Hojo chasing him faster than he thought possible and
his own feet seemed to weigh a thousand pounds.
"Where d'you think you're going, Jimmy?!" Hojo demanded tackling the Turk
by the legs and the two men crashed into the bottom of the staircase, Jimmy
face-first. Wood splintered and flew and cut into his head, a big spike going
through his shoulder and making his scream out oaths.
"What're you doing to Vincent, ya fucking loony?!" he shouted, ignoring
the wounds and trying to regain his feet, suddenly ashamed at his panic. Hojo
was on his back but Jimmy reached a hand around to push him off, knowing he
himself was stonger and a thousand times better trained to be in a situation
like this. But training just didn't seem to be helping anyone that night. Hojo
was too quick for all of it.
Mouth a trembling
line of control, Hojo leapt off the Turk and launched a kick into his face while
he was still heaped on the ground, then dug his right hand into his coat pocket,
drawing out the gun he'd grabbed. The pistol was slick in his bloodied hand but
he choked up his hold on it and aimed. Jimmy cried out as hot lead plowed a hole
through his collarbone. He folded backwards and into the stairs again, fingers
snaking upwards to staunch the flow of blood. "You miserable fuck!" he whispered
in a high-pitched whine, blinking hard, "That's Vincent's gun! What're you doing
to him?!"
"Dishing out justice, "the scientist
answered coldly, "What's it to you?" He took quick aim and fired. Jimmy sunk
backwards with a bullet in his eye, a horrified expression on his face. Before
he died, he could feel a hand at his side, going for his wallet, drawing it from
his pocket indifferently. But then he didn't feel anything.
"Interfering prick, "Hojo muttered, stashing the warm gun in the
back of his slacks. He opened Jimmy's wallet up eagerly and looked through the
credit cards and gil marks until he found what he was looking for. He held the
little donor's card up to the hallway's dim lighting, squinted and smiled.
"Blood type A. Perfecto. Thanks, Jimmy."
Hojo
flung loose strands of black back behind his ears, then grabbed a hold of the
dead Turk's jacket and began the laborious process of hauling the corpse back to
the labs. He wasn't sure if fortune was smiling on him or spitting on him. The
mess at the foot of the stairs was going to be a royal pain to clean up... Oh
well. Maybe he could get Lucrecia to do it.. Oops! Never mind, guess
not.
He giggled to himself and threw a wink to
Jenova when he was back in the Library.
"Thanks
for the help, "he said amiabley, "I owe you one."
Hojo looked at his wristwatch with
blurry eyes, smearing blood off the face so he could see the numbers. He yawned
and stretched and absently gazed upon the fruit of his labors. The scientist was
crouched over him, one foot to either side of his stomach, his chin in his
hands. Pale as death but alive. The adulterous Turk was alive, he'd saved him.
"Wake up, "he demanded softly but sternly. The quiet face below him didn't
twitch. "Come on, wake up, Valentine, I know you can." Hojo stared at him
viciously, sinking from his feet to his knees so that he was almost sitting on
his victim's stomach. But he didn't dare put his weight on the stitches there.
He leaned forward, a hand to either side of Vincent's head to support himself,
then moved his face closer to the other's, so close that his hair hung in the
young Turk's closed eyes. "I wonder if it worked, "he mused, "I don't see why
not, most of it all came from Professor Gast's speculation and research and we
all know what a wonderful genius he is. Too bad I can't show him what I've done
with his science. His science, ha! His science is a bore compared to the
flair I have. Look at this claw! Could Gast have ever conceived anything
so brilliant and appropriate? Gast is mundane, my science is what will have the
real staying power. My science that even now is waiting to be born inside
Lucrecia..."
That name seemed to stir something
in the man beneath him. Hojo could see a slight twitching in the muscles around
his eyes, as though even in darkness he was trying to search out the owner of
that name. Hojo's hard expression softened for an instant. "It could have been
very nice, I suppose, "he said casually, swinging himself off of the examination
table, almost slipping in the blood, "But it just wasn't meant to be, Valentine.
She's mine. You almost had her, I almost let you die and you two could've been
together eventually. But no, you don't deserve that. You deserve to live on as
what you should have always been. A monster. But just wait. Just wait and watch.
I'll let you be together eventually, you'll see. Even I am not that
cruel."
Hojo paced the length of the library,
hands clasped tight behind his back. It was so late. Or rather, so early. He
could already hear movement from the floors above as the rest of the mansion
awoke. What would he tell the Turk leader about his two missing men? Heh, he
wouldn't say anything at all, that's what. He would certainly act as concerned
as hell when he was told they couldn't be found though. Oh, yes, no one would
contribute more to the search effort than Professor Hojo, he knew that already.
He'd manage to get away with this yet, he was sure of it. He'd cleaned the
hallway outside, he'd scrubbed the tiles of the lab and the tools he'd used, and
he'd even cleaned what he could of the examination tables. Jimmy had been, ah...
disposed of, now he need only do away with his friend. And he could call it a
night.
"...sha...?..."
The faintest of sounds from behind his back. Hojo was infinitely
surprised to turn around and see Vincent Valentine sitting up on the examination
table, examining his new claw with a look on his face too exhausted to be
horrified. The man immediately collapsed backwards onto the table, nearly
rolling off and onto the floor. Hojo dashed to his side and pushed him back to
safety. "You just have this adversity to cooperating, don't you?" he muttered,
"Heh, those chemicals are slower than I'd thought they'd be. You shouldn't be
able to think much less move. Come on now."
With
Jenova wordlessly looking on, Hojo wheeled out a gurny and rolled Vincent onto
it. The Turk hardly made a sound though his eyes were open. He stared at the
scientist and Library as though he couldn't remember them. Everything, as a
matter of fact, looked foreign and strange. It was all too clear, all too
bright. Something was wrong with his vision, he was seeing things he'd never
seen before, seeing everything as though through a magnifying glass, tinted in a
haze of red. "Ah... so the optic nerves were affected!" Hojo said delightedly,
noticing the expression on the man's face, the darting reddened eyes,
"Interesting. I'll have to remember that. Jenova seems to improve everything she
can in the human system. What about your--"
"...hear her..."
"Hmm?"
He could hear her, somewhere in the floors above, he could hear Lucrecia
crying, he swore it. This wasn't just some delusion, he could hear her muffled
sobs, wordless anguish coming from her bedroom and the sound was so vibrant, so
near, Vincent could picture how she must look; leaning with her face pressed
into the pillow on her bed, heart broken, shaking like a leaf and hiccuping in
that way she had when she cried. She'd cried to him in the hallway when he'd
promised to take her out of there, sending her into town to get the truck. And
she must have come back in the night, expecting him to be ready to leave with
her. And he'd been gone, been trapped down here. And now she was
crying.
Vincent could hear it.
She was crying and what could he do to stop her tears?
"...she's crying, Hojo...?"
"What?" The scientist looked cranky and his voice backed up the observation. He
shoved the gurny from the library and out into the dark hallway, the wheels
finding every bump along the way and sending its occupant almost tumbling to the
ground. Vincent groaned as pain evinced itself and his mind rolled over in
confusion. Where the hell was he and what the hell had happened? He should be
dead. But he wasn't and he was glad, maybe now he could get back to her and they
could get on their way. Her soft eyes pleaded with him to hurry. But he couldn't
move.
In typical Shinra fashion, the company
mansion had been built atop an old, disused cemetary. Nibelheim's elders hadn't
appreciated the fact at first but enough gil and even they'd forgotten their
ancestor's and their graves, happy to sign anything the President had lain
before them. Hojo said a little prayer of thanksgiving to the god of greed as he
wrenched open a door in the wall of the hallway. The ancient portal creaked
open, then flew against the wall in a shower of mold and filth and rotten wood.
Oh gods...
"It's really gross in here... "the
scientist muttered to himself, squinting his face up in disgust. The crypt had
been discovered so near to the wall of the hallway when the crew had been at
work digging that they'd been about to break through and cement the space in,
block it off. But President Shinra had been convinced it would make a decent
enough storeroom and save him that much more gil in construction expenses. So it
had stayed. But no one had even thought to look in there till now.
Hojo kicked at skulls and bones as he walked inside, moving
cobwebs apart with pale hands. So still, it was as though time had ceased to
exist in the small space, yet the evidence of time showed itself everywhere. The
ancient bricks and mortar, the rotting wooden caskets stuck haphazardly here and
there, but especially in the skeletons. They lay exposed in the mildewed
coffins, stick figures of white, each one leering and laughing at the sudden
living humans who'd invaded the domain of the dead. Hojo crushed a skull beneath
his shoe to dust and bleached fragments, silencing that laughter for the
rest of eternity. "Hmph, "he grunted in disgust, "I think this new home will
suit you to a tee, Valentine."
Rolling up his
sleeves, Hojo approached a coffin in the center of the room and flung the lid
off. The skeleton inside had been a soldier, he could tell easily, the rotting
remnants of a primitive musket lay in his hands, an old rusted rapier at his
sides. The tarnished glint of gold at the tattered blue remnants of his collar
told the scientist he'd been of some high ranking in his day, but not anymore.
Hojo yanked the decorations off and flung them to the dirt. "What good did they
do you?" he asked the corpse, "You're still here now, dead as you'd be if you'd
been a beggar." The man sneered and grabbed a hold of the thing's neck, lifting
the surprisingly heavy bones from the casket without the slightest sign of
discomfort. Laughing triumphantly, he cleared out the musket and sword until the
rotted red velvet of the coffin was clear and visible, if dirty and disgusting.
Hojo took great joy in bashing the bones beneath his feet to shards of white.
"Come on now, Valentine, "he called, looking up, clothes dusty now and full of
spiderwebs, "Let's see how you look in here, eh?"
Vincent could only see Lucrecia, his drug-dulled mind saw her still crying
helplessly in her bedroom, still heard each gasp, each choking sob. He'd been
supposed to save her. Why couldn't he save her now and still those
tears?
"...no, don't you hear her..?"
"Yes, yes, "Hojo said dismissively, maneuvering the gurney
until it lay at the side of the coffin. "That's just the chemicals affecting
your mind, Valentine. But they're necessary if this little experiment's going to
work. Just rave quietly, all right?"
"...don't
cry... I'll come..."
"Uh-huh."
With a little grunt, Hojo rolled Vincent from the steel gurney to
the inside of the musty casket where he landed heavily, tears in his bright red
eyes. Hojo adjusted him comfortably, crossing his hands over his stomach,
wishing for a moment that he'd dressed him first, but then deciding he really
didn't give a damn if the Turk caught cold down here.
"So there, "he said finally, taking a step back, knowing that time was
short. Vincent did look quite appropriate laying like a living corpse in
that coffin. "I could've been an artist. I think so." He grinned and adjusted
the claw again, brushing a few strands of hair out of the Turk's face. Vincent's
red eyes snapped to attention suddenly, blinking quickly. He tried to sit up but
couldn't.
"...what the hell..?"
"Ah.. a moment of clarity at last?" Hojo wondered, reaching his
hand into his pocket and smiling. The light from the hall caught the rim of his
glasses and they sparkled, so bright to Vincent, it seemed, that he squinted his
sensitive eyes against them, "Just as well. But I can't chat, I have to go clean
up the mess you've made."
"Where am I?"
Hojo pulled out a syringe and held the needle up to his
eyes, checking the dosage. "That crypt they discovered beneath the building
site, "he answered matter-of-factly. The scientist smiled and moved closer,
sweeping his bangs back behind his ears, "Shinra isn't a complete and total
fool, I suppose, this old tomb certainly has come in handy. A storage room
indeed. More like a place for me to keep my trash. Perhaps I'll stash your young
Turk friend down here too."
Vincent suddenly felt
the rough ruined velvet beneath his bare back. He smelled the bittersweet stench
of decay and a realization hit him. But he couldn't move, he couldn't act with
the thought that struck him. He writhed in silent terror and fury even as Hojo
jabbed the needle into his neck. "Don't leave me down here!" he demanded between
clenched teeth, "That's what you're planning, isn't it? I'll scream my head off,
I swear to God! They'll find you out and you'll fry, d'you hear me?!"
"Those threats might have worried me before, "Hojo replied
calmly, withdrawing the needle, "But you made threats equally as vicious last
night. And as you can see, they obviously amounted to little more than shit.
I've won, Valentine. And I'm taking all the spoils for myself."
A wave of dizziness struck him and Hojo's face swam in circles
before his eyes. Vincent turned away, suddenly so tired he thought he might fall
asleep and never wake up again. His eyelids pulled like leaden curtains but he
fought it for as long as he could, even as Hojo hefted the casket's great oaken
top and settled it snugly over the coffin, sliding it into place and charmed by
how it fit so perfectly, even after so long sitting down here and
rotting.
"Don't leave me alone down here!"
Vincent pleaded, a sob catching in his voice. Everything was black, that lid
didn't let in even a crack of faint light. Just blackness everywhere, just the
smell of death sitting in the coffin's limited atmosphere like a fog. "Please!
Please don't leave me here! Let me out and let me go to her!"
Hojo went to work nailing the coffin shut. He made short work of
it, each blow of the hammer making him wince, making him terrified that someone
would hear the ruckus from above and come to investigate, as that Jimmy jerk
had. But no one came. After fifty-three nails, no one had come, and Vincent's
protests were so faint Hojo had to press his ear to the wood to hear them.
"...tell me you'll leave her alone... if nothin' else, tell me that...
please..."
"Would it make a difference?" Hojo
asked coldly, pocketing the hammer and giving the crypt one last look. Not that
he ever wanted to remember this God-awful place. He hoped he'd never have to
come down here again. "You're just a ghost now, Valentine, "he said softly,
shoving the gurney out of the door ahead of him, "Just a ghost who doesn't make
a difference anymore. Good bye."
Vincent heard
the door close slowly, just as he'd heard the lid come down, the nails being
hammered. But he was really too tired to be scared. He only heard her crying
still. A little softer now, a little softer with these wooden walls to muffle
the sound, but he heard it anyway. Far off... and she called his name, whispered
it, and he could hear it though he didn't know why. He said her name too and for
a moment, sealed there in the blackness, Vincent thought it was almost as though
they were talking to eachother. When she whispered his name back, his heart
nearly melted. Her face there in the darkness, smiling at him through
tears...
Never change... Please please don’t
leave or change. I’ll be back tonight, and we’ll both leave
together...
And there was that ruby he'd
given her, shining on her finger, shining through the casket's black beside her
face.
In the distance, he heard Hojo's voice now
too. He was comforting her, saying how he'd come from the Turk leader to tell
her about Vincent's resignation, that he and his friend Jimmy had run off
together. And she was hysterical now, calling him a liar, but his smooth words
calmed her and she collapsed into his arms and Vincent heard it all. And with
the words, his tired mind provided an image. Lucrecia wrapped in Hojo's arms,
crying uncontrollably into his shoulder, chestnut hair streaming around her face
like a shroud. He forgave her and she called herself a fool to have loved a
traitor but still, she didn't tell Hojo she was sorry. She only stood and cried
and cursed.
Vincent knew Hojo was
smiling.
And he fell into sleep and nightmares
with that smile burned into his thoughts.