I Know What's Beneath the Snow Fields -Chp.30
During his entire stay in Nibelheim, Vincent had seen Sephiroth only once,
which was three weeks after the birth. He happened to be ascending the
stairs when he spied the maid leaving one of the rooms, with the child
in her hands. Curious to see the boy, Vincent halted the maid in the hallway,
then asked (very politely) about any supplies the household lacked. The
maid, being of a well-disposed nature (and also a big admirer of this
Turk), began a lengthy description of all the supplies necessary for the
week.
"Oh yes, Sir!
We're out of butter! Goodness, Professor Hojo throws a fit if his baked
potatoe has no butter on it," the kind woman prattled on, fearful
of forgetting an item, "La, Sir! Please don't forget I need money
to buy a new pan! That last one was...."
Vincent, while nodding
every so often to acknowledge her demands, carefully scrutinized the baby
between her hands. In return, the boy stared back in complete awe at this
tower of a stranger.
The child was a plump,
soft little thing, with the most amazing pair of bright green eyes. They
shone in childish wonder at the world around them, trying to make sense
of it but understanding nothing. His hair colour, of a delicate silver
leaning more towards light grey, certainly won the admiration of anyone
who beheld it; a very unusual colour indeed, further emphasized by his
white, soft skin. He had a beautiful round face, which showed childish
innocence in its purest state.
To Vincent, Sephiroth looked like any other child.
"I think that's
all, Sir," concluded the chattering maid at last, "I'd say maybe
thirty gil would do it."
"Ah..yes ma'am,
of course," the Turk replied, fumbling awkwardly for his wallet.
He gave her the necessary money (plus a little extra for her to keep).
After a pause, he asked, rather cautiously, "Where are you taking
that child?"
"Oh, Sir,"
she sighed, snuggling the baby more tightly, "The Professor wants
little Sephy to be moved down to the basement today. Heaven knows, I begged
him not to. Why, he's barely three weeks old, the little darling. Ah,
but he just made a sour face and ordered me to 'just do it'. There ain't
a speck of decency in *that* scoundrel!"
Vincent eyed Sephiroth
another minute before inquiring even more cautiously, "And how is
Ms.Lucrecia? Is she better now?"
"Ah! The poor
dear! She's still hurting from the labour, even though, like I said Sir,
it's been three weeks. All she does is pine by the window, sighing her
heart out. It's enough to break your heart, Sir, and she's *SUCH* a pretty,
pretty young woman too!"
"I see. Well then, it's best you go now."
"Yes, Sir," she immediately obeyed, curtseying before leaving.
Vincent watched the
kind maid march down the hallway, humming softly to "little Sephy"
who had fallen asleep against her bosom. When she had finally disappeared
from his sight, the Turk resumed his own way.
These scientists are brutal, Vincent mused to himself, the child's barely
three weeks old, and already they...
The two Professors,
to be sure, treated the child as an amazing phenomenon. Their eyes had
gleamed with great but constrained excitement on the day of the birth.
They spent the first week examining every aspect of the child's anatomy,
from the tip of his hair to his tiny toe. Every detail, down to the most
meticulous, needed to be recorded: tissue samples for further research;
more "tests" to confirm results. The list stretched on forever.
How often did Vincent
spot either Professor Gast or Hojo barging into Sephiroth's room, carrying
at least three notebooks and some bizarre device in their hands. They
remained sealed within that room, sometimes for hours, "analyzing"
the child for their mysterious purposes. Many times while passing them
in the halls, Vincent heard the two men eagerly discussing the boy. They
never tired of speaking about Sephiroth.
"The boy shows
a marked difference in many various aspects," Professor Gast had
once remarked excitedly. The two scientists were marching through the
corridors when they met Vincent, who immediately made room for them to
pass. Hojo, as usual, snubbed the Turk, but Professor Gast greeted him
quite amicably.
As the two men descended
the staircase, Vincent heard Gast say, "..he's similar to normal
humans, but closer observations show he's totally different. If my analysis
data is correct, then.."
"Ach! We can't
assume anything until we FULLY analyze him," Hojo interrupted rudely,
"I say we bring the child NOW downstairs for a complete, thorough
testing. Why waste anymore time on simple analysis when we should have
already started on the more important ones?!"
"Now, now, Professor Hojo."
"Don't you 'now
now' me, Sir! The President is expecting a full report in a month. And
since Lucrecia, our lab assistant, is still ill, we must work double time
to finish! These analysis tests are crucial to the JENOVA Project!"
Vincent listened to
the two dissentient scientists debate until they cleared the stairs and
entered another room. One would have thought they were discussing a laboratory
animal, not a human life.
No sooner had three
weeks passed, than little Sephiroth was transferred from his warm crib
to a cold hard tabletop down in the grim library. Undoubtedly, the two
men performed every "analysis" test in existence on him, furiously
scribbling down all the results. For days on end, they toiled like demons,
knowing no rest or mercy. They scarcely left the library below, if only
perhaps to grab a bite and a nap. Both, though Hojo more in particular,
shunned any contact with the outside world. All their sweat and hard work
was dedicated to Sephiroth.
No one knew (or dared
imagine) what horrible forms of torture Lucrecia's son suffered in the
name of science. Sephiroth was never seen again, nor had anyone the courage
to ask about him. In fact, the very mention of the Professors' "work"
sent shivers down anyone's spine.
The Nibelheim villagers,
as always, remained oblivious of any "ShinRa matters" conducted
inside the grand Mansion. The soldiers, though aware of the child's existence,
never bothered discussing the topic. The maid, busy to her ears in housework,
hardly mentioned the boy. Similarly, Vincent strictly stuck to his duties,
and said nothing.
Sephiroth obviously
concerned the two Professors only.
However, some nights,
when not a soul stirred the stillness, Sephiroth's pitiful shrieks re-echoed
through the huge mansion. Though quite faint, the cries could reach Vincent's
ears as he lay awake in bed. The child wailed for hours, during which
Vincent stayed perfectly still in his place, his eyes fixed on the black
ceiling. Poor Sephiroth sobbed for any kind soul to rescue him from the
loathsome library. Sadly, no one ever came.
Vincent wondered if Lucrecia could hear the child's pitiful cries like he could.
Much to his annoyance,
he found himself thinking a lot about her lately. The very recollection
of his beloved set his mind adrift in a thousand different directions.
The fear that some harm may befall her still haunted him non-stop. Whenever
he passed her closed door, the desire to embrace her all to himself nearly
blinded his logic. He discerned an invisible danger hovering over her
head, ready to devour her any moment.
Fortunately, Vincent
would check his feelings in time, then continue his way past her door.
Though the presentiment never spared his mind, the Turk refused to be
guided by emotion rather than reason. Besides, he had heard Lucrecia was
quite ill. So why irritate her more his unpleasant sight?
The poor woman, indeed,
had suffered enormously during the actual labour. Immediately after the
painful delivery, Lucrecia had sunk into a dangerous level of semi-consciousness,
further plagued by fever and genuine fatigue. Professor Gast, greatly
concerned about her, strictly forbade anyone to visit Lucrecia (save the
maid) until her health had recovered. The young mother, ravaged by delirium,
had cried for days afterwards, sobbing reputedly for her child as well
as for "him" (no one knew exactly *who* she meant).
Thanks to Professor
Gast's medicines and the maid's tender care, Lucrecia eventually recovered
enough of her health to see her child. However, being still in this critical
state, the ill mother was only granted two looks at the boy: one during
his second week (in which he was named), and right before his cruel transfer
down to the hateful library.
Surprisingly, Lucrecia
made no protest or complaint on hearing of Sephiroth's transfer. She listened
very attentively to Professor Hojo explain, in his usual brash manner,
how important these "analysis tests" mattered to the overall
Project. He emphasized a dozen times how significant those tests were
to the advancement of their research.
"And I won't
tolerate any silly, womanly, sentimental nonsense from you, Missy!"
the insolent man concluded, shaking his long finger in her face very haughtily,
"You have successfully fulfilled your part of the experiment, so
don't interfere with mine. Is that clear?"
Too heartbroken to argue, Lucrecia nodded her head, then tiredly turned away.
She never saw her son again.
One month rolled by.
Spring reluctantly faded into a cool, breezy summer. Lush blankets of
fresh grass covered the rolling hills. Every green leaf on each branch
of every tree swayed in the wind. The golden sunlight, only too eager
to reach the fertile land below, delighted the winsome village with its
warmth. The birds, though regretting spring's departure, nevertheless
celebrated the glories of summer.
Until that time, Vincent
had not seen his beloved Lucrecia even once since her son's birth. Although
she had recovered sufficiently by the time summer arrived, the woman,
for some obscure reason, refused to see anyone. She never left her chamber,
preferring to hide away from the world outside. She scarcely ate the food
delivered to her door, and would not speak to anyone under any circumstances.
The kind-hearted maid, worried out of her wits, had on many occasions,
begged Lucrecia to "open the door and have a bit of food". However,
Lucrecia remained silently imprisoned in her room, her door barred and
double locked.
She had not, in fact,
crossed the door's threshold since Sephiroth's birth. Nor had she spoken
a word to a soul for all that time. Nobody knew exactly *what* that poor,
depressed woman did in her room.
Professor Hojo, being
too engrossed in organizing the analysis results, had no time to waste
on Lucrecia. The soldiers, as expected, never bothered worrying about
any of the scientists. Each day dragged by, with the young mother still
hiding all alone in her chamber. It seemed Lucrecia had lost all interest
in the world outside her room.
On one particular
warm day in the very late afternoon, Vincent heard a cautious knock at
his door. He carelessly dumped the book he had been reading, then opened
the door. Much to his surprise, he found the maid before him, breathless
and on the verge of tears.
"Sir!" she
exclaimed hurriedly, her heart swelling with pity, "I've tried and
tried, but Ms. Lucrecia won't come out of her room! She's been locked up
for a month now, barely eating and never speaking a word to a living soul!!
I just don't know what to do anymore! I'm so worried about her, the poor
little dear!!"
Unable to contain
her grief for Lucrecia's misfortune, the compassionate woman burst into
tears. Vincent spent at least five minutes calming her, asking her to
repeat herself several times, until he finally understood her problem.
The kind-hearted maid meticulously described Lucrecia's harsh, self-imposed
seclusion. She had become so desperate, trying to coax the young mother
out of her hideout, but all in vain."
She doesn't even answer
me, Sir!" the woman complained tearfully, "for a whole month
now, she won't come out! I told Professor Hojo, but he only yelled at
me for bothering him. Well! I hope he ROTS in that library of his if he
won't help this poor woman! The shame of it!!"
At her wits' end after
so many failed attempts, the maid had finally sought Vincent's help.
"I know you're
not like that grouch of a Professor, Sir," she pleaded to the Turk,
"If anyone can talk some sense into poor Ms. Lucrecia, it's you. Please
Sir, talk to her! She hasn't opened her door or her mouth in a month,
and I'm afraid she's dead!"
Vincent immediately
promised the woman he would speak to Lucrecia and lure her out of her
room somehow. So, after many such assurances and vows, the Turk successfully
mollified the tearful woman. Her work for the day now finished, he dismissed
her very politely, even walked her to the front door. The good woman blessed
the Turk for the hundredth time, then left the Mansion in reasonably high
spirits.
He shut the door immediately
after she had cleared the gate. Vincent leaned against the heavy door,
trying to organize his thoughts into a reasonable order. The haunting
silence of the whole mansion crushed his senses to bits; it seemed he
was the only soul living in it.
Without further
hesitation, Vincent decided to try his luck with breaking Lucrecia's imprisonment.
He skipped up the stairs, then noiselessly marched down the corridor towards
Lucrecia's room. On reaching his destination, the Turk tapped the door
lightly, and waited.
No reply.
He knocked the door again more firmly. Still no reply.
"Lucrecia," he called gently, "It's me."
Vincent waited patiently for an answer. None came.
"Lucrecia,"
the Turk called again, more softly that before, "If you don't open
the door now, I'll break it down."
When his threat received
no response, he took one step closer to the door and whispered, "Please,
Lucrecia. I want to talk to you."
He stood rooted to
his spot, patiently waiting to hear her voice. An unnatural silence filled
the hallway, challenged only by the howls of gusty winds outside. A full
minute passed without even a faint scuffle inside. Weary of the wait,
Vincent lifted his hand to knock again when the door suddenly unlocked.
The door opened to
a tiny crack, small enough to barely allow a pair of tense eyes to glare
at the Turk. Vincent returned Lucrecia's strange glare with a restrained
expression. This was the first time they had seen each other in a whole month.
"I don't want
to see you, Vincent," she stated, growing more irritated with each
word, "I don't want to see anyone. Just leave me alone...all of you."
Vincent fixed his keen eyes on hers, but did not speak.
"I don't want
to see you or that horrid gun of yours! It scares me, Vincent. I can't
bear its sight!" she whispered in tearful exasperation, "Everyone
is pounding in my brain...why can't they all leave me alone?! The Professor...that
stupid maid...Sephiroth.. Davoren...even you! I want to be alone! Alone!!"
"I'm not carrying
my gun," Vincent replied coolly. To prove the truth, he opened his
jacket, then showed her his side-holster: it was empty.
"And there's
nobody here but me," Vincent reassured softly. He pressed his hand
against the door, as though he would push it open, then implored, "Please,
Lucrecia, I won't harm you. Just let me talk to you."
A most peculiar silence
fell on the two. Neither muttered a word for a moment. Instead, they gazed
intently at each other, Vincent with tender concern, Lucrecia with crumbling
resistance. At last, she fully opened the door to admit the Turk, still
refusing to speak. Vincent entered her room.
"Close the door,"
she begged in a faltering voice, "Please.. close it and lock it.."
He obeyed without question.
Her whole body shaking
in agitation, Lucrecia hobbled over to the large window, and gazed absent-mindedly
through the glass pane. She took no heed of the new guest, as though unaware
of his presence. An entirely different matter seemed to occupy her battered
mind.
Vincent scanned her
square, stuffy room with mild interest. He noted several bedcovers scattered
across the bed, some tumbled into a heap on the floor. In an easy chair,
both Lucrecia's glasses and some overturned book lay ruthlessly discarded
on top of each other. The ancient lantern behind this comfy seat cast
a very weak light in the room. Two medicine bottles and a tall glass of
water stood erect on the tabletop, with some colourful tablets scattered
around them. Finally, Vincent spotted a tray of food rudely shoved into
the far side of the room. The food had not been touched.
He turned his attention
to Lucrecia. She stood leaning against the window frame, her back mostly
facing him. Her disheveled hair had been carelessly heaped into a distorted
bun, so that several strands dangled against her long neck. The tired
woman wore a very loose silk robe around her graceful body. Her feet were
bare.
Lucrecia's careworn,
wasted face, however, alarmed Vincent the most. That healthy rosiness
in her soft cheeks had withered away. Her eyes, blood-shot with many bitter
tears, betrayed deep sadness, if not utter despair. This passing month
had drained the very life out of Lucrecia.
Yet despite the cruel
illness, Lucrecia still retained a strange beauty about her. Sadness had
crushed her spirit; despair had wrangled her heart. Nevertheless, Vincent
gazed thoughtfully at her beloved face in silent fascination. The long,
harsh seclusion hadn't robbed an ounce of her beauty; it had only added
a sad touch to it.
Lucrecia spent a long
time looking through her window without speaking to Vincent. A cool evening
loomed in the sky as the red sun sunk into the rolling hills. The birds'
sweet chirps filled the air, interrupted occasionally by the rude caws
of a crow. A branch near Lucrecia's window caught her hallow eyes. It
swayed playfully in the breeze, often times scratching her window, as
if it too wanted to enter.
She watched the meek
branch dance in the wind. Vincent waited patiently for her to speak first.
Though so many thoughts cluttered his mind, he knew not how to express them.
"You look well," the young woman remarked casually. She did not turn to him.
Vincent made no reply.
"You don't go
out for your strolls as often as before," she muttered in an almost
reproaching tone, "Sometimes from my window, I'd see you leave the
house to go for a walk. But now, you hardly do that."
She drew one arm across
her bosom, and covered her haggard face with the other. Her shoulders
shivered, struggling against a violent surge of emotions. She seemed to
be fighting brutal, physical pain.
"Lucrecia," Vincent began gently but firmly, "Why won't
you come out of your room?"
"I don't want to..."
"You've been
locked up in here for nearly a month now. You eat very little, if at all.
From your face, I can tell you've been crying a lot and hardly sleep.
Now please, Lucrecia, tell me what's wrong?"
"I don't know,"
the miserable woman faltered, "..I'm torn in so many pieces, I just
don't know anymore."
"Are you...afraid of something?"
She glanced at him, her pale face devoid of any expression, but instantly
turned away. She did not answer.
Vincent paused a moment before asking, "Are you afraid... of what
happened *that* night..when I killed him?"
"I don't know!
I don't know!" Lucrecia cried in anguish, "I hear Davoren's
voice calling me a monster for experimenting on my child! I hear you promising
me not to interfere, even though I know you want to. Then..then Hojo's
ugly voice just pounds in my ears..he..tells me I must give myself to
the experiment..and I feel him touch my body... UGH!! It makes me sick!!!"
So enraged by the
tumultuous emotions, Lucrecia nearly stumbled to the floor had not her
hand caught the table. She clutched her breast in agony. Vincent moved
to help her, but stopped short when he noticed her recoil away from him.
She leaned against the table, her sole support.
"Don't come near
me," Lucrecia implored wretchedly, "Just..just stay back... everything..it
just screams in my head, and tears me inside out, Vincent. I don't know
where to hide."
She steadied herself
again, but kept a tight grip on her bosom. Vincent watched her in concern.
"You remember
that night, ages ago, when I told you why the JENOVA Project meant so
much to me?" Lucrecia recalled dreamily, "..it was the same
night you kissed me. I..was so sure of myself back then.. so arrogantly
sure...ah, but now! Now I'm lost in the dark, and can't find my way out."
If this pitiful woman
possessed any strength at all, it soon disappeared. Lucrecia's whole body
wobbled to the side as her feet lost balance. Unable to contain his alarm
any further, Vincent dashed to the delirious woman and caught her before
she could collapse to the floor.
"LET ME GO!!!!"
she screamed at the top of her lungs, "LEAVE ME ALONE!!! LEAVE ME
ALONE!!!!!"
Wild with rage, Lucrecia
fought violently to break loose from Vincent's grip: she screamed, cried,
even kicked his shins more than once. All in vain; the Turk surpassed
her power greatly and refused to let go. She did not hear him call her
name, nor could she feel him shake her shoulders in hopes of restoring
her lost sanity. Instead, Lucrecia struggled to free herself from him,
even though she knew his arms alone prevented her collapse.
To be short, Lucrecia had lost her mind.
Losing his patience
at last, Vincent roughly swept his arm underneath Lucrecia's two legs,
while the other arm encircled her back. Despite her fierce kicking, the
Turk managed to carry her all the way to the easy chair with little difficulty.
After brushing aside her book and glasses, Vincent sat in the comfy chair
and forcefully perched Lucrecia on his lap. Whenever she tried to escape,
he yanked her back to him. He shook the woman so violently, repeating
her name over all her insane cries, until she suddenly stopped. He had
restored her reason.
Lucrecia stared blankly
at his face, gasping and scarcely understanding how she had landed in
his lap. Vincent held her tightly in his arms for fear she may either
lose her balance or her mind again. His hand continuously rubbed the young
woman's back in an effort to soothe the turmoil in her mind.
Lucrecia looked all
around herself in wonder before asking the Turk directly, "Did you
see Sephiroth?"
Vincent blinked confusedly
at the unexpected question, but dutifully replied, "Yes, I did."
"When?"
"Right before he was taken to the library."
"He's beautiful, isn't he?"
"Yes."
"I wanted to hug him..all to myself, just like this.."
She crossed both hands
across her chest, as if actually embracing a child. Vincent made no comment.
Lucrecia fidgeted
in his lap, trying weakly to stand up. Unfortunately, her feet refused
to obey her command, and her body continued trembling. Vincent watched
her grapple with her muddled emotions for a long time. He held her very
carefully in his lap without disturbing her.
"I just wanted
to hug him, Vincent," she whispered softly, "..to feel his little
body in my arms...once would have been enough for me..."
She cast her eyes
down in shame, then slowly nestled her head against the Turk's shoulder.
Lucrecia placed her clenched fist against his chest, choking on many bitter
sobs. Vincent did not move.
"But Professor
Hojo wouldn't let me," she complained, "..Sephiroth..my poor
little son... he's for the Project, not me. I had agreed to it, so I gave
him away. I was so sure of what I was doing..the road was so clear to
me, I could even see the end of it. But when you came, Vincent, I became
lost a bit, like I didn't want to finish the road anymore..and when you..you
killed Davoren that night, I lost my way completely."
Vincent gently loosened
her hair, so that it tumbled all around her shaking shoulders. He placed
his hand on her head, which snuggled even more against his shoulder at
the kind touch.
"I had agreed
to bear all of this," she sobbed in misery, "I remember telling
Davoren 'I accept the consequences', and I will. But it's not fair, Vincent!
It's too cruel! The Professor wouldn't even let me hug my son! I want
Sephiroth, Vincent, I want my son!!"
Both her arms suddenly
embraced his neck. Lucrecia buried her full face further into his shoulder,
repressing her sobs to her best abilities. Vincent felt her whole body
shiver in his lap.
"Lucrecia,"
he whispered compassionately, running his fingers through her hair, "I'll
bring Sephiroth to you."
The heart-broken mother looked at him in silence.
"I'll bring him
up here, straight to you," he promised, "But you must go to
sleep, Lucrecia. You need some rest."
For some reason, Lucrecia
lifted her shaking hand and caressed the Turk's cheek. She gazed tiredly
at his face, her cold fingertips running along his pale skin. A very weak
smile crossed her lips.
"You've always
been so kind to me, Vincent, even though I've hurt you at least a thousand
times. I'm sorry," Lucrecia sighed sadly, "..you're only so
warm and loving with me..while at the same time, you can kill anyone else...murder
them in cold blood. It's like a very small part of your heart works, while
the rest is frozen dead."
He did not answer.
"When you bring
Sephiroth to me, we can go for long walks in the fields," the sad
mother dreamed to herself, "He's too small, so I'll have to carry
him. If you want to, I'll let you too carry him a bit. He'll call me 'mama'..heh,
and I'll teach him to call you 'Dada' ...yes, I'll pretend you're the
father instead of that horrible Professor Hojo..."
Vincent studied her
beautiful face in well-concealed pain. He had lied to Lucrecia: Sephiroth,
all his analysis tests being completed, had returned to Midgar in the
company of Professor Gast. Most of the soldiers, weary of the uneventful
countryside, decided to return to the city as well. Only Professor Hojo
remained in Nibelheim in order to revise his final report on the Project.
Naturally, Vincent's duty required him to stay in the village until all
the scientist's work finished.
Regardless of the
painful truth, Vincent nodded his head in agreement to Lucrecia's pitiful
fantasy. He would do anything, even pretend to be Sephiroth's "Dada",
if only he could induce Lucrecia to sleep.
The room had grown
considerably dim during their meeting. The approaching night streaked
a deep shade of blue across the heavens, casting most of the room into
shadows. The birds had long ceased their chirping, so that the heavy silence
in the room struck Vincent as extremely unnatural. Lucrecia nestled her
head against his shoulder once more. With one hand clasped over her aching
heart, she sat perfectly still in his lap.
"You didn't come," Lucrecia whispered softly all of a sudden.
"Hm?"
"While I was
locked up in here all by myself, I cried all the time," Lucrecia
recounted in anguish, "I cried my heart out ten times a day. I..
I wanted you to come to me, Vincent. Deep down, I wanted only you to help
me out of this darkness...to stop this miserable nightmare! I cried day
and night for you, Vincent, but you never came! You never came!"
Vincent was silent.
"Even though
I loved you and wanted you to come so badly, you never came," the
pitiful woman concluded in a whisper.
Drained of all strength,
Lucrecia sunk her head against his shoulder in complete silence. Her entire
body never stopped shaking in Vincent's arms. She watched the sky fade
to blackness through the window, then buried her face into the Turk's
neck. Vincent carefully leaned himself back against the easy chair, making
sure his movements did not awaken the exhausted woman, then snuggled her
body more securely against his.
He sat in this position
a long time, watching the room surrender to darkness. The Turk rested
his head against Lucrecia's as his thoughts dispersed in different directions.
Every passing moment, every sigh the woman heaved sharpened a very strange
sensation in his heart. In all likelihood, Lucrecia hadn't meant those
harsh reproaches. To be sure, her grief had clouded her reason, enough
to accuse the Turk of abandoning her.
But she had spoken the truth.
Vincent admitted to
himself he had always somehow known Lucrecia was not truly happy. He MUST
have felt her misery as the experiment slowly drained the life out of her.
How many times had
the pessimism that Lucrecia would be harmed plagued his mind? Indeed,
why hadn't he *acted* to protect her from this menace? Instead, he had
chosen to wallow in self-pity, excusing it as "non-interference".
All those past declarations of love battered his mind. What disgust he
felt with himself. They were empty words, devoid of any true feelings.
He *should* have interfered,
even though his mind had discouraged him. He *should* have obeyed his
fears rather than discredit them. He *should* have protected Lucrecia
instead of idly watching her suffer by herself.
Suddenly, Lucrecia's
sufferings, agonies, and tears became *his* fault. Her pain was his sin.
Thus sat Vincent,
fumbling with his heavy guilt. His past life mattered very little, if
at all, to him. He found no regret in slaughtering misguided beggars in
a Reactor, threatening little innocent children to satisfy his superiors,
or murdering his best friend so ruthlessly. To him, these crimes bore
no consequence, not even an ounce of significance, compared to abandoning
his beloved Lucrecia.
How could she ever
forgive his blindness? How could he ever forgive himself?
When at last unable
to bear this burden of guilt, Vincent carried Lucrecia straight to bed.
He stretched her body fully on the bed, then covered her with the bedcovers.
The Turk wiped her tear-stained cheeks with his gloved hand before leaving
the bedroom. He left the door ajar.
Vincent lingered in
the dark hallway for one long minute. His weary eyes glanced to the far
side of the hall, which ultimately led to the loathsome library below.
Hojo, no doubt, had been slaving all this time down there in preparation
of his report.
Silence slithered
through the black corridor, interrupted by a rude creek of some rotting
wood. The stained windows rattled with each howl of wind. Complete darkness
dominated the hall.
Vincent fetched a
stiff wooden chair from another room, then propped it right next to Lucrecia's
door. After glancing into her room one last time, the Turk dropped into
the chair, overwrought with exhaustion. Although he closed his eyes and
folded his arms across his chest, Vincent did not sleep a wink the entire
night.
Just before the arrival
of dawn, Vincent heard a faint "thump" in Lucrecia's bedroom.
The Turk, his senses sharper thanks to his lack of sleep, instantly sat
up in his chair. He listened for a moment: nothing. Had he simply imagined
the sound?
He stood up. Rubbing
his tired eyes, Vincent cautiously peeked into the dim room. Everything
seemed to be in its proper order, except for an extremely peculiar shadow
lying heaped up on the floor. It appeared to be a body. Much to Vincent's
horror, it was Lucrecia.
With a loud oath,
the Turk dashed to her body. Lucrecia lay heaped up on the floor, face
down and both hands close to her bosom. Her hair was scattered around
her head, even over her face. Evidently, the woman had awakened sometime
earlier, and must have collapsed suddenly in her spot.
"Lucrecia!!" Vincent called loudly, "Lucrecia!! Wake up!!!"
Vincent turned her
onto her back. He tore open her collar, calling her name all the time,
while patting her cheeks. She did not respond.
Frantic beyond reason,
Vincent checked the woman's pulse: he could barely feel a heartbeat throbbing
very weakly. Lucrecia was dying right before his eyes! She would surely
die unless he helped her now.
In a flash, the Turk
stormed out of the bedroom like a perfect madman, then dashed down the
dark hallway. He knew not what help he could get for the dying woman,
but understood she lingered between life and death. He rushed down the
stony passageway, heading straight for the grim library. That was his
last hope.
On barging in, breathless
with agitation, Vincent found Professor Hojo writing on the operation
table. Several scraps of paper littered the bulky table, some crumpled
up, others heaped under the flickering lantern. The Professor immediately
turned to the rude intruder, his face showing great annoyance, as if to
say "How dare YOU bother ME?"
"Professor!!"
Vincent gasped out, taking a step closer to the man, "You have to
help Lucrecia!! She's dying!!"
Hojo narrowed his mean eyes with peculiar interest at the Turk, but said nothing.
Vincent felt the anger
boil his blood as he cried, "She's having a heart attack!! If we
don't hurry and save her now, she'll die for sure!!!"
"Let her die then," scoffed Hojo simply.
Perhaps he had lost
his mind, or maybe he had simply misheard the man. In either case, Vincent
whispered in absolute astonishment, "What?!"
"I say let her
die and rot in her grave," Hojo repeated, stepping closer to the
shocked Turk, "The JENOVA cells have poisoned her body, so she will
die very soon. Besides, she's outlived her usefulness. I don't need her
for my experiment anymore."
"Have you lost your mind??!!! You can't just..."
"Ah, but *you*,
my dear Sir..you will do quite nicely for my experiment..heh heh heh..you'll
be part of my OTHER experiment... heh heh heh heh..."
Vincent stared in
amazement at this mad scientist, not understanding his strange meaning
at all. Hojo glared maliciously back at the Turk, while a sinister grin
played on his thin lips. Vincent suddenly felt nauseated with the Professor.
"What 'experiment'?"
he cried, losing his patience with the deranged man, "Professor,
you've just FINISHED an experiment!!"
"I know that,
you idiot! That's NOT the experiment I meant!!" Hojo shouted angrily.
He gripped his hair in frustration as he roared, "You...and him...
all of us..will be part of ANOTHER experiment!! I'm not finished yet!!
I must finish my experiment! WE'RE ALL PART OF THE EXPERIMENT!!!!!!"
Vincent was dumbstruck with this man's madness.
"It could take
ten..fifty...maybe a hundred years to finish," the insane Professor
ranted on, eyeing Vincent so viciously, "..it'll take time, Sir,
TIME to finish my experiment. But never mind, Mr. Valentine, you can sleep
for all eternity, preserved just as you are now. And when it's time to
finish my experiment..I'll wake you."
The movement was instant;
so fast, so unexpected at that mad moment. In the blink of an eye, Professor
Hojo yanked out a small revolver from his pocket and fired once straight
at Vincent's chest. The Turk lost all sensation of his surroundings, except
for a murderous pain ripping through his chest. The bullet had most likely
hit his heart.
Everything went black.
The very moment he
hit the floor, Vincent sprang up in bed in a cold sweat. He looked around
himself silently. This was his bedroom in his apartment. Here was his
frightening metallic claw. There was Aeris, sound asleep under the covers,
safe by his side.
It was all just a nightmare.
It took him great
effort to understand he had been merely re-living his past once again.
All of that madness died long ago: ShinRa, the library, Hojo, Davoren...and
Lucrecia; they were all ghosts haunting his past. They were just faces
and places floating in his memory. That horrible nightmare finished thirty-one
years ago, never to return again...
Or did it?
-End of Chp.30
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