I Know What's Beneath the Snow Fields -Chp.31
Sad how out of all the vast treasury of memories one human mind contains,
very selected few actually survive till the end. Most of them fade away
with time, losing their novelty and flavour. The once sharp details become
dim; the clear faces turn blurry. Indeed, most of our memories are so
similar to paintings: the older they grow, the more faded and dusty they
become. When Time at last fades their colours and obscures the details,
those wasted memories are sometimes utterly forgotten.
Yet the precious few
memories which completely evade Time, on the other hand, remain forever
fresh in the mind until death. These memories could be happy, confusing,
sad, or even painful. Nothing, not even Time itself, could hope to dim
one detail of it: the face remains forever fresh; the moment forever new;
the emotion forever vibrant.
It simply refuses to die.
Despite the torturous,
long years of separation, Lucrecia's precious memory remained thus forever
preserved in Vincent's mind. He sealed her beautiful face in his memory.
Every curve of her slender figure, every movement of her body had long
engraved itself into his brain. Vincent still remembered the feel of her
hair between his fingers; the incredible amount of respect and admiration
he felt for her; even the warmth of her gentle touch. He had absorbed
her whole spirit into himself, and jealously protected it from any tarnish
Time may induce.
However, with the
precious memory of his beloved Lucrecia came the unbearable guilt of abandoning
her in her most hour of need. The self-disgust and hatred always wrangled
his aching heart whenever he recalled her image. This one wretched sin,
of all the horrible sins he had committed, haunted this man's lonely days
and cold, black nights. They never granted him peace, nor would they spare
his tortured mind.
Thirty-one years could
not mollify his guilt. On the contrary, time had only intensified the
pain until his sin obsessed his tormented mind. He yearned for forgiveness...*her*
forgiveness. What hatred and revulsion he felt at himself whenever he
remembered how he idly watched her suffer so miserable and alone. Her
bitter, bitter reproach "you never came" hammered his head and
tore his senses to shreds. He wanted peace of mind, which ultimately meant
his beloved's forgiveness.
If only he could somehow
suffer to atone for the unbearable crime. Somewhere on this wretched earth,
there *must* be some excruciating punishment he could endure to win her
forgiveness. Some arduous task he could perform, some torture he could
undergo just to stop the guilt from haunting him.
And yet, Vincent knew
no amount of groveling, suffering, or torment could match the agonies
Lucrecia had borne. In being honest with himself, Vincent never believed,
not even for one moment, he could hope to atone for his crime. He had
loved Lucrecia with such a violent passion, yet at the same time had abandoned
her to a cruel fate. He had watched her suffer instead of preventing her
pain. In short, Vincent did not believe himself *WORTHY* of Lucrecia's forgiveness.
Her pain had damned
him to a wretched life forever plagued by guilt and relentless self-hatred.
He would always live in misery and bitter remorse, denied any peace of
mind.
But most importantly,
Vincent would live his lonely life as he had always: a stone-hearted,
demoniacal monster. Not because he could transform into a hideous creature
with sharp claws and black wings. That monster was merely part of his
abnormal body he artfully concealed behind a human guise. No, the real
monster was *him*: it was the same heartless creature who just watched
Lucrecia suffer instead of protecting her.
Let that be his eternal punishment. No mercy. No forgiveness.
But Vincent had Aeris,
a frightened little child lost and hounded by her dark fears. If he protected
her now like he should have protected Lucrecia thirty-one years ago.....if
he, in fact, PRETENDED he fought for Lucrecia instead of Aeris.....would
the sin be washed away? Would the guilt at long last spare his tortured
mind?
Would he THEN be forgiven?
Vincent suddenly broke
off in the middle of his gloomy thoughts without waiting for an answer.
After waking up a second time during the night, he had set his tired mind
adrift until he had sunk into semi-consciousness. Though aware of his
wandering thoughts, he scarcely possessed any control over their direction
or meaning. Yet, being still so physically and mentally weak, Vincent
had offered no resistance to his train of thoughts; at least, not until
that desperate question struck him in the face. He abruptly ended his
morbid meditation by forcing his eyes open.
A peaceful silence ruled the grey bedroom.
He lay flat on his
back in bed, his dull attention tiredly focused on the ceiling. Both his
hands rested on his calm chest, the metallic claw heaped over the other
hand. Vincent scarcely twitched a muscle whenever a cold shiver tickled
his pale skin. On the contrary, he felt quite relaxed. Though the bedroom
was quite cold, Vincent had chosen to sleep on top of the covers in hopes
of cooling his feverish body. Much to his relief, his plan had succeeded:
the fever had almost disappeared.
He glanced askance
at Aeris, who slept buried underneath all the warm covers. She lay snugly
nestled against his body, most of her face hidden under the blankets save
her eyes and hair. Sweet slumber had overpowered her senses so completely,
she lay oblivious to her surroundings, even to some of her curls that
dangled before her lovely face. She did not move when Vincent flicked
a strand of her hair away. Utter exhaustion had rendered her helplessly
unconscious.
He turned his eyes back to the ceiling, and did not move for a long time.
Gentle morning sunlight
smuggled through the window, slowly dispersing the darkness away. Since
Vincent had left only one curtain open during the night, some of the room
basked in sunlight while the other parts lay in grey shadows. Vincent
languidly watched the ceiling brighten as the rosy morning besieged the
bedroom. When he had heard the faint chimes of the bell tower signal six
o'clock, Vincent sat up in bed.
He gazed absent-mindedly
at the window just opposite the warm bed. Pure white snow had clogged
the corners of each window pane, while a gentle mist completely smeared
the glass. Indeed, it had snowed very heavily all throughout the night.
Vincent hopped out
of bed. After one good stretch, he wandered over to the cold, misty window.
He wiped the fog away with his hand, then peered through the glass: the
whole world outside lay trapped in snow. It covered every rooftop and
car in view. The bare tree branches outlining the streets below were laden
with clumps of snow. One passerby trudged through the thick snow piled
on the sidewalk, making sure his precious briefcase stayed safe and dry.
Vincent turned his
weary eyes up to the grim skyline of the black city. The ugly tall buildings
and banal offices contrasted sharply with the beauty of the pure snow.
The soot and grime would probably soon dirty the snow's beautiful whiteness.
How greatly winter in Midgar differed from winter in Nibelheim...
He turned abruptly
from the window on remembering that loathsome village. Its memory filled
him with intense pain, just as much as Lucrecia's filled him with bitter
guilt: It was in Nibelheim where he realized his heinous crime. How long
ago it happened, yet how vivid it seemed.
The mirror hanging
across the room suddenly caught his eye: Vincent stared in silent wonder
at his image, which returned his look with the exact same expression.
His face had grown quite wan and haggard. The cruel illness had, in truth,
drained every ounce of life out of his weak body until not a drop remained.
His keen red eyes sparkled brilliantly like a pair of rubies.
And how pale his skin
was! His disheveled, long black hair tumbled in lustrous strands all around
his head, a few infront of his face, others well over his shoulders. The
shocking contrast between his jet black hair and pale white skin only
added to his wonder. He had also grown thinner: his sleeveless black shirt
and loose pants felt a bit baggier than he last recalled.
But it's the same face, Vincent mused to himself, the exact same face I had
in that hectic nightmare....
He stared very meaningfully
at his face, his turbulent thoughts scurrying around his head. That face
did not belong here, it belonged to his bloody, murky past. And yet, he
still bore the same young, fresh face he had borne thirty-one years ago.
Age hadn't touched it a wrinkle.
To his bitter mind, this face hardly differed from an artful mask,
cleverly disguising a monster as a human.
Feeling sudden disgust
at his "mask", Vincent tore his eyes away from the mirror back
to the misty window. He folded both arms across his chest as he gazed
broodingly out the glass pane. The bakery shop down the street finally
opened its doors to greet the cold morning. Little school children scurried
down the pavement, throwing snowballs at each other all the way. Several
of the black buildings in the distance had already returned to work. The
whole city of Midgar braced itself for another cold winter's day.
However, Vincent only
noticed these signs of life with hardly any interest. Many thoughts, far
too morbid for the cheerful morning, occupied his mind. He paid no heed
to the bright world outside. He had grown quite accustomed to the gloomy
world inside his head.
The pleasant tranquility of the cold bedroom pleased him.
Unfortunately, the
loud sound of the door opening disturbed his gloomy meditation. He glanced
askance at the intruder without muttering a word.
Tifa stumbled into
the bedroom, yawning and rubbing her sleepy eyes. Her chaotic hair all
hung behind her back, with many distorted strands pointing in every direction.
She wore a large, long night-shirt, horribly wrinkled from an unsettled
sleep. Evidently, she had just woken up.
She fully stretched
out her two slender arms as another lazy yawn attacked her. When at last
she noticed Vincent by the window, she sprang back in surprise, exclaiming,
"V..Vincent!!!!"
"Good morning,
Tifa," Vincent greeted calmly. He returned her stunned look with
a very composed expression.
Tifa, of course, had
least expected to see this man up so early, standing in his usual aloof
manner by the window. Nor had she dreamed of finding Vincent speaking
and behaving so coolly. She strongly suspected he still suffered from
delirium, but was pretending to be sane.
"Vincent...you..,"
she faltered confusedly, marching over to him, "..are you...all right???"
"Yes. I'm fine now."
Still doubting his
sanity, Tifa pressed her hand over his forehead, then his cheek. Vincent
fidgeted uncomfortably under her sharp scrutiny: she peered suspiciously
into his pale face; examined the smallest detail for any sign of delirium.
Nevertheless, Vincent dutifully succumbed to her will, and made no protest
to the inspection.
"The fever..it...it's
practically gone!" Tifa cried amazedly, "..my God! And you're
not raving anymore! You've almost recovered!!"
Vincent only nodded once to the joyful news.
Tifa, on the other
hand, expressed far more enthusiasm for his miraculous recovery. Much
to his confusion, she threw both arms around his neck and embraced him.
Being much taller than her, Vincent stooped slightly for her to fully
hug him. Though he felt a bit awkward in Tifa's tight embrace, he did
not resist the kind gesture.
"Ah, you jerk!
What's the idea getting sick like that and making us worry?" Tifa
reproached in a low, faltering voice. She tightened her grip around him,
as if fearing the dreaded fever may return, "...coughing out all
that blood, and raving like there was no tomorrow. We all thought you'd
die before the night was through."
Vincent, sensing a
sob in her voice, gently patted her back as he humbly apologized, "...I'm
sorry, Tifa..I'm very sorry.."
"You don't have
to apologize, Vincent," Tifa replied softly, "What matters to
us is that you're okay now."
She held him in that
friendly embrace another moment just to reassure herself of his presence,
then released him. Vincent ran his fingers through his hair, thinking
he should say more. However, since all words failed him, he turned awkwardly
back to the misty window again. Similarly, Tifa fumbled in the uncomfortable
silence. She glanced at his face from the side: how morose and pensive
he looked. She gazed outside the window, wondering what thoughts preoccupied
this man.
For one full minute, neither spoke a word.
"Excuse me, Tifa,"
Vincent began softly all of a sudden. He turned to face her as he said,
"..I have to go now. Good bye."
"Eh??!!" she blinked in amazement, turning to him as well,
"W-where are you going??"
"I need to take a shower, then get ready for work."
The simplicity of
the answer doubled her astonishment. She gaped at his calm face, thinking
she had perhaps misheard him. But his serious expression proved otherwise.
Without another word, Vincent politely walked past her.
"W-w-wait a darn
minute, you!!!" Tifa cried angrily, yanking him back by the arm,
"You can't just 'get ready for work' as if nothing happened! You
were raving with a killer fever only last night! And you still have a
small fever too! You must rest!"
"But, I..I'm fine.."
"If it's your
job, then don't worry," Tifa interrupted loudly, "I personally
explained to them you couldn't go because you were sick. Now, unless you
want that fever to return, Mr. Valentine, you'll get yourself straight
back into bed! I do NOT want you having another relapse, and..."
"Sh!" Vincent
hushed, placing his finger before his lips very nervously, "Not so
loud. You'll wake her."
"'Wake...her????'" Tifa repeated in puzzlement.
She looked deliberately
to the side, where the bed stood, suspecting to find an explanation there.
To her great shock, she finally discovered Aeris snuggled underneath all
those warm covers. Aeris, who had noiselessly shifted to her back during
the conversation, slept as soundly as ever. Her head was turned to the
side, so that part of her beautiful face lay in her thick brown curls.
The cozy blankets had slipped off her upper body, thus exposing her neck
and entire shoulders. One of her delicate hands lay carelessly near her
face, while the other clutched the hem of a blanket to her breast. Aeris
only heaved one tired sigh. She looked extremely exhausted, but quite
content.
To be sure,
Tifa had not even noticed the girl sleeping so innocently in the man's
soft bed. She gaped with eyes wide open at Aeris, then back at Vincent,
who felt very uneasy on seeing her stunned look. Tifa spent a long time
glancing between the two. Suddenly, she folded her arms and nodded her
head quite sagaciously, as though she understood the real situation. Vincent
watched her uncomfortably.
"Ah, I see,"
Tifa remarked, eying him very meaningfully, "So **THAT'S** what you
two were up to while I was blissfully asleep. Guess I don't need to ask
if you slept well, do I, Mr.Valen-TINO?"
Vincent blinked in astonishment at her sly meaning.
"Now wait a minute!!"
he retorted but instantly lowered his voice, "You have the wrong
idea. This is definitely NOT what it looks like..."
"Uh-huh. Sure,"
Tifa teased. She playfully slapped his arm as she added in a peculiar
whisper, "You don't need to be so uptight about it, Vincent. I mean,
no matter how you look at it, you're a man, and she's a pretty young girl.
It's good to know underneath that cold exterior, you still have the same
basic instincts all normal men.."
But she stopped short
when Vincent abruptly turned away from her. He folded both arms across
his chest as he closed his eyes in annoyance. His back remained rigidly
facing the bed. Though Tifa knew her joke had probably offended him, she
could not help but smile at Vincent's embarrassment.
"When I woke
up around two in the morning, I found her at my bedside, washing my forehead...and
trying to calm me down, because I was having a nightmare," Vincent
explained in a low, controlled voice, "I could see her whole body
shivering from the cold. She was so exhausted, I wondered how she managed
to stay up at all. Then I learned she's been like this at my side for
a day and a half. Well, I certainly didn't want her to become ill on my
account, so I made her sleep in my bed."
Tifa raised an eyebrow
suspiciously, as if doubting the validity of his simple story. Vincent
glanced at her, then coughed uneasily. Tifa thought she saw a very light
blush colour his cheeks, but he turned away before she could check.
"She slept under
the blankets; I slept ON TOP of them for the whole night," he concluded
softly, "That is all. I certainly did not exceed those boundaries."
"Heh heh..aw
c'mon, Vincent! Don't be mad," Tifa laughed amicably at his stiffness,
"I was only teasing you. Heck, I know you're not that kind of guy."
He looked suspiciously
at her from the corner of his eye. Tifa winked playfully at him to prove
she did, indeed, believe him.
"But you know,
Vincent," Tifa added, her tone growing quite serious, "..Aeris
lied to you. She didn't spend a day and a half watching over you."
He listened to her in silence.
"Aeris spent
the full week literally by your side, nursing and caring for you. She
never left your side. For a full week, she washed your forehead, held
your hand, even whispered in your ears (I have no idea what she told you).
Whether you were unconscious or raving like mad, Aeris watched over you
by herself. She refused to let me or Cloud look after you, not even for
a minute."
Vincent fixed his
eyes on the view outside the window without interrupting Tifa. Tifa glanced
timidly at his stoic face, then looked at Aeris. The girl hadn't moved
a muscle.
"She probably
just lied to you so you wouldn't get worried about her," Tifa excused
for the kind-hearted girl, "Caring for you was so important to her,
the silly thing hardly bothered sleeping. I told her to wake me at midnight,
because I wanted her to get some decent sleep. But, of course, being so
stubborn, she didn't listen."
An awkward silence
filled the room as she finished her story. Vincent turned around to face
Tifa again, unsure how to react to the truth. Tifa studied Aeris' tired
face for another minute before she too turned to Vincent. Her brown eyes
softened with tender kindness on meeting his calm, red eyes.
"Would you like some coffee before you go to work?" Tifa smiled simply.
Vincent nodded his head in consent.
"Alrighty then. It should be ready in a minute."
Tifa immediately left
the room to prepare his hot drink. Vincent, on the other hand, lingered
for another moment at the foot of the bed. His whole face darkened with
some troublesome thought as he gazed very intently at Aeris. The girl
slept in her same position, blissfully unaware of all around her. Sweet,
deep sleep had gently lulled her eyes to seal shut. Vincent carefully
tucked her in again, then drew the curtains across the window. He quietly
shut the door after he left the room.
As he wandered down
the familiar hallway, loud snores from the living room caught his attention.
He silently peeked into this dark room in search of the noisy source.
Slouched on the couch,
Cloud slept soundly in nothing but a light undershirt and his boxer shorts.
Both his legs were wide apart, one dangling over the arm of the comfy
seat. His head, with all that shock of blond hair, slumped sharply against
his shoulder. A woolly blanket, obviously his own, lay discarded on the
floor. Cloud snored with a large, gaping mouth, occasionally giving a
sharp snort whenever he scratched his thigh. To be sure, not even the
mightiest of earthquakes could have awakened this young man from his deep
slumber. He looked exhausted beyond description.
Vincent frowned slightly
at Cloud's sloppy way of sleeping on a couch, but let the tired man enjoy
his rest. He entered the kitchen across the hall, where Tifa had just
finished preparing his coffee.
"Careful now.
It's very hot," she warned as she handed him a steaming mug.
Taking the cup in
his hand, Vincent collapsed into the nearest chair by the wooden table.
Without a word, he took a quick sip, then began idly swirling the drink.
The hot coffee, with its distinct aroma, quickly sharpened his senses
and dispersed whatever weariness still clung to him. He took another sip
in silence.
Tifa watched him revel
in his pleasant drink without interruption. After a moment, she too poured
herself some coffee, and sat near her gloomy friend. As she quietly sipped
her hot drink, Tifa studied Vincent's pensive face from the corner of her eye.
"Cloud looks very tired," Vincent remarked casually without looking at her.
"Oh yeah. He
should be after that little 'adventure' of his last night," scoffed
Tifa, feigning real anger. She placed the mug on the table firmly as she
recounted, "See, last night, you had this REALLY BAD fever. We were
actually fighting just to keep you alive. You were delirious, of course,
screaming and kicking. None of the medicines were working, and your body
was burning like fire. So, leave it to Mr. I-am-so-damn-clever Cloud Strife
to come up one last ditch effort to save you."
She gulped down her
coffee, disregarding its hotness, in an effort to mollify her agitation.
Vincent eyed her cautiously, but did not interrupt her story.
"He filled the
bathtub with water, dragged you all the way in spite of your raving, and
dunked your whole body in the tub to cool you! I nearly murdered him!
I mean, I thought he was trying to do some kinda 'mercy killing' by drowning
you. But Cloud kept on repeating he wouldn't let you die just yet. So,
he spent around two hours last night dunking your body in and out, until
the fever finally went down. Naturally, he was exhausted, so there he
is now, snoring away in dreamland."
She paused before
adding softly, "I was skeptical at first... but I..I'm just glad
his crazy idea worked."
An awkward silence
followed after Tifa reached the conclusion. Vincent brooded over his cup
of coffee, while Tifa glanced timidly at him to check his reaction. He
swirled the hot coffee several times before standing up all of a sudden.
Keeping his back totally turned to Tifa, he wandered over to the counter.
Tifa wondered at his strange behavior.
"..Tifa..,"
he muttered after some hesitation, "..thank you. I..owe you my life.
I'm very sorry for troubling you..all of you, like this.."
Although the show
of gratitude quite simple, Tifa sprang out of her seat in great surprise,
almost absolute shock. Vincent coughed uneasily at her reaction, but still
kept his back turned to her. He could discern her confusion without even
looking at her.
"Ah..now..h-hey,
Vincent!" Tifa faltered nervously, walking over to him at once, "I
told you you don't need to apologize for anything! You're our friend,
remember? We all look out for each other! .....though the way you've been
outta touch for this last year..not bothering to visit us even though
you lived right here in Midgar... hhmmmm...makes me wonder if you really
worth saving..."
When Vincent glared
significantly at her, Tifa immediately laughed, "Just kidding! Kidding!!"
He leaned back against
the counter, taking one last sip from his coffee before discarding his
mug. Vincent silently folded his arms across his chest, and narrowed his
eyes in deep contemplation. He paid no heed to Tifa who eyed him with
peculiar concern.
"But, Vincent,"
she whispered, touching his arm lightly to win his attention, "I
just want you to take care of yourself..and watch out for any danger.
If not for your own sake, then at least for Aeris."
He made no reply.
"See, I'm very
worried about you," continued Tifa softly, "I have this bad
feeling you're hiding something from all of us. And I can't guess it,
because you don't WANT anyone to. If there is anything, Vincent, any trouble..any
danger you're concealing, then please tell me."
She stared so intently
at his face, beseeching him to unburden whatever "trouble" pestered
him. In return, Vincent gazed stoically back at her. For one full minute,
no sound but Cloud's rude snores interrupted the heavy silence of the
kitchen.
At last, Vincent turned away.
"...I cannot tell you, Tifa..," he apologized very gently.
"Vincent,"
she retorted in a cautious undertone, "Does any of this have to do
with...a white-haired man?"
He froze solid in
his spot on hearing those last three words. His reaction certainly baffled
Tifa. She watched him fumble in confused hesitation for a minute. When
he finally turned to face her, Vincent's keen eyes fixed themselves rigidly
on her face, demanding an immediate explanation.
Tifa realized she had somehow hit the mark.
"I...I've been
meaning to tell you this, but I forgot," she recounted nervously,
"About a month ago, this man...with unnaturally white hair and these
weird pink eyes asked me to meet up with him. He was a bit taller than
you, around thirty, and wore this thick trench coat over his suit."
A dreadful uneasiness
filled Tifa's heart as she looked into Vincent's morose face. He seemed
to weigh her every word quite heavily. She distinctly recalled this mysterious
stranger, but now his memory sent a cold shiver down her spine.
"He asked me
whether I knew you...he even showed me a picture of you as a Turk. Then
he asked me where to find you. At the time, I had no idea where you were.
Like I said, you didn't keep in touch after Avalanche disbanded. I repeated
several times that I simply did not know. So, he just left without another
word, and I never saw him again. He...he was very strange. Oh, he was
polite and everything, but he.. wouldn't tell me his name. He just seemed
so bent on finding you."
Vincent's red eyes
sharpened keenly at the conclusion of Tifa's story. A most solemn expression
darkened his face. Several thoughts battled through his mind at the same
time, each in a completely different direction. So engrossed in his own
gloomy contemplation, he forgot Tifa standing concernedly before him.
The image of Davoren
floated into his mind, both the one he had befriended in that nightmarish
flashback, and the present one he fought that day Aeris ran away in the
rain. His hair colour had faded from chestnut to abnormally pure white.
His eyes, once of a deep honey colour, had changed to the strangest shade
of pink. Nor did he behave like the Davoren Vincent had always known.
Far from it, the Davoren Vincent had battled that night to save Aeris
acted with such ruthless brutality..such bitter hatred. Not at all like
the one who had shown genuine compassion and kindness.
Yet, the face remained
the same, not a wrinkle added, not an ounce of youth taken. Davoren's
face looked as young as it had the night Vincent killed him, thirty-one
years ago. But *HOW* was Davoren alive....and why was he here?
He said he served
some "Professor" now..the very same who had heartlessly tortured
poor Aeris in a laboratory.....was it Professor *Hojo*? This mysterious
"Professor" also wanted Vincent...why? What connection existed
in all of this madness?
"an....'experiment'?"
Vincent mumbled inaudibly to himself. He frowned at the unsatisfactory answer.
"W-what??" Tifa asked, baffled by his strange meaning.
Vincent suddenly looked
at her on realizing how far his mind had drifted. Tifa waited anxiously
for him to speak. His moody silence and grave expression alarmed her beyond
measure.
"Listen, Tifa,"
he begged gently but firmly, "There are many... many things I can't
tell you now because I don't want any of you involved. I don't want to
endanger your lives when you can be safe as you are now. Trust me, when
the time is right, I'll tell you all you need to know. But for now, Tifa,
please don't ask me anything."
"But, Vincent, what..."
"Please, Tifa."
Both stared intently
at each other. Tifa gazed searchingly into his ruby-red eyes, hoping perhaps
to find answers to all her burning questions. Unfortunately, he had buried
his own thoughts and misgivings under an absolutely stoic visage. He would
not betray a thing to her.
Defeated at last,
Tifa sighed softly, "I..I understand...but, Vincent, just be careful."
He nodded his head
in silent agreement.
"Thank you for
the coffee," he concluded politely, "I must take a shower now
before going to work."
Without further argument, he left the kitchen.
His brain churned
a thousand thoughts around his head, all related to Davoren in some way:
undoubtedly, Davoren would return someday to claim Aeris for his "Professor".
He showed no pity for the girl's fright; no regret for trying to drag
her back to her despised tormentor. And Aeris, understandably, regarded
Davoren as the cursed devil, and Vincent as her blessed guardian angel.
She knew absolutely nothing of either man's past; only that she wanted
to feel safe and free from harm, just like she had wished last night in
bed.
The thought played
on Vincent's mind: if you protected this girl NOW like you should have
protected Lucrecia THEN.... maybe you'll be forgiven. Perhaps if you deluded
yourself a bit and pretended you fought for Lucrecia instead of Aeris...sure,
maybe you'll wash the crime clean from your hands.
But, Vincent, when
Aeris ran away in the rain, mad with fear, you followed her without hesitation.
You told her bluntly you felt "concern" for her...and that you
didn't want to see her end up as "mentally shattered" as you
were; you also said you understood her feelings; you wanted to help her.
Strange enough, you meant those words....every single one of them. Last
night, as she lay by your side remembering the torture she had endured,
you embraced her to stop the pain. It hurt, even angered, you to see her
suffer like you had long ago.
Were you pretending she was Lucrecia that time as well?
And is that all? Are
you sure that is all Aeris is really worth to you? Simply another means
of atoning for one sin you have become so desperate to erase? Could you
really be such a selfish...monster?
The instant the simple
question struck him, Vincent immediately shoved the whole thought away,
and occupied his mind elsewhere.
-End of Chp.31
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