cloakandclaw | [Milliways] Seeking the Familiar

[Milliways] Seeking the Familiar

It's silly: he's knocked at this door more than once since his return and there hasn't been any answer; he has no reason to believe that Tifa is anywhere but back in Midgar. It's where she was when he left for the Western continent and if there's any justice at all in this universe, it's where she is right now. He hasn't seen her the few times he's been at the bar; he hasn't seen her when he's been outside although... it's hard to see somebody from the depth of the forest. It's just... there hasn't been very good reason to be sociable. He's used to solitude; he's used to accounting for his time only to himself and, occasionally, to Lucrecia.

She doesn't really listen, though.

At the end of the day, he's... still Vincent and as long as Chaos is held at bay, he considers himself still human. And humans are social creatures and it's been some time since he was among friends. As much as any other man, he misses the people he knows even though he prefers to be alone. That's what he tells himself, at least and so... if that's true... why is he standing outside the door to Tifa's room, his back against the wall, as if she's going to miraculously appear?

Because he's lonely, but admitting that is... weak and... needy and... he already has enough to repent for. He has zero desire to be a burden of any kind at all to Tifa or to any of his friends and perhaps he clings to the idea of Tifa because she was a familiar sight in a strange and new place. But she's not here now and standing by her room is futile and more than a little pathetic; shaking his head, he turns to go.

He gets five paces down the hall before he turns back, makes his way with determined steps to her door, lifts his hand, and knocks.

He has absolutely nothing to lose but hope.

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For all his lack of emotion, she knows enough to be aware that this isn't easy for him. And she realizes both what a trial this business with his father's estate must be and what torture it apparently is for him to visit Lucrecia.

(And she knows very well that he does it constantly anyway.)

But even so, she feels like she's missing something significant in this story.

She ignores his apology -- she has no idea what there is for him to be apologizing to her for -- and after a moment, she very gently puts a question to him. "What were you hoping would happen?"

And what actually happened then?

There's a long, long silence where all he does is breathe in, breathe out. In, out, and when he's certain his eyes won't betray him by being overly bright, he turns to face Tifa. Cloud once told him he was cool and he said he supposed that was true, but that's all exterior. Inside, he alternates between burning and freezing; outward appearance is a trick of balance. Nothing more, nothing less.

"I'm... not sure." He can't put voice to some of the things that come to mind: that Lucrecia would actually be happy to see him; that she would let him approach; that she would ask him about himself. It's too much to expect from her, though. All she is these days is a remnant: memories in a database and the fact he can visit her at all is enough of a gift that he ought to be satisfied.

But every time he visits her, he leaves more distressed than the time before. Answers are elusive and explanations are never forthcoming. Loving an echo is not an easy task, but he does it anyway. It's one of the debts he feels he owes her for not protecting her from circumstance. He was, after all, assigned to her safety and failed.

How does someone ever know where to draw the line? More than anything, he wanted her to be happy... but at what cost? For both of them? She was nothing more than a vehicle for Hojo, a convenient womb with whose product he could experiment but he... loved her for the woman she was. If Hojo had just seen a glimmer of what he saw in her but... well... he didn't and now Hojo is gone, and he's glad about it and at the same time filled with remorse. The Turks taught him to kill, but Hojo... Hojo taught him to hate.

"I don't know," he repeats softly. "To be... spoken to with true kindness, I suppose. I don't know." How can he explain the depth of his feelings to Tifa without seeming ungrateful for all he does have? Not a single bit of this is her problem, and he wishes again he hadn't said anything. "This... doesn't need to be your concern. I apologize for bringing it up."

While he's standing there, facing the window, her shoulders slump and her eyes soften.

"Vincent."

For a second she's reminded of Cloud -- of the Cloud she's met here -- and her eyebrows knit together.

This is precisely the kind of behavior that would get Cid to call him depressing and it is depressing, but her heart goes out to him anyway.

What's left of Lucrecia can't, she's pretty sure, speak to him with true kindness. What's left of Lucrecia isn't alive.

She knows Vincent knows this. But on the other hand, he didn't really know exactly what happened to Lucrecia before they found her cave. He hasn't really had thirty years to mourn her death. Just thirty years to mourn the separation and what happened to him, she guesses.

It's still a little frustrating, though, the way he apologizes again and tries to turn things inward.

"You apologize for a lot more than you should. I'm your friend."

She knows very well how much people can keep pent up inside, and Vincent...

Despite appearances, he's worse than most.

He has more appreciation for her friendship than she knows. What he'd like to do right now -- more than anything else -- is change the subject but... she's said he ought not to apologize so much. For the life of him -- aptly put -- he can't imagine why she or anyone else would want to be his friend, save for the fact that he's handy in battle. He doesn't add much to a conversation, he knows, or brighten up a room. He's not only dwelling in the past; he's mired there and can't seem to move forward.

In the end, it all comes back to sharing. It would be so easy for him at this moment to look Tifa square in the eye and say I don't think I'll tell you any more and leave, but he... values her friendship too much. If he loses that then he's lost everything he has here and he'll be truly alone.

Before he speaks, he shrugs his shoulders so very slightly. "Apology is old habit. Living in a coffin for three decades left me out of practice with social niceties." To his credit he doesn't apologize again. Instead, he gives Tifa a very small and very guarded smile. "Did you know Marlene asked me if I liked you? She... let herself into my room while I slept and loaned me her stuffed rabbit and then asked if I liked you. I told her I liked you very much."

The remnant of wistful smile stays on his face for just another moment or two before disappearing. "I'm... perhaps not so used to having people to share things with, Tifa. Often, I don't know how to go about it. It's always been difficult for me, even before."

Before he became this thing capable of destroying an entire planet on a whim.

He's carried so many secrets for so many years now. It would be a relief to be able to let go of some of them. How... do people go about that, though? Developing enough comfort with people to cry on their shoulders, figuratively speaking? What if he can't bring himself to do that? Who will he be failing this time?

"She did?"

Surprised sheepishness flickers over her face, but then she lets out a laugh.

"I'd wondered where you found her that morning." The smile doesn't want to leave her face. "I'll keep a closer eye on her next time, I promise."

Vincent probably didn't appreciate having a good-intentioned five-year-old stalker that morning, but the idea of Marlene loaning him her rabbit is so sweet and just like her.

"Well, I should probably tell you that she gave you her official stamp of approval after you left. She said you should come back to visit soon."

Personally, she's hardly surprised Marlene liked Vincent.

It's the second thing he says that makes her expression soften again.

"I'm not expecting you to bare your soul to me. Just... let me be your friend." Now it's her turn to shrug her shoulders a little bit. "I hear I'm not half bad at it, and I don't need half as many apologies."

"Surely so many apologies for so little in return ought to be considered a bargain." Raising one eyebrow, he studies her this way and then that, his face a study in seriousness. There's a moment where it seems the room could just crack under the weight of it all; he reaches down and rests his gloved hand over the gauntlet.

"I'm joking. And you don't need to keep a closer eye on Marlene. I like her very much too." Soul-baring is something he's certainly not prepared to do, not even with someone he considers a -- no, his best -- friend; he's not made that way and never was. However, there is something he will share with her.

"In Junon, I was able to procure one item. I... had no intention of showing it to anybody, but..." The mood is already far more confessional than he likes or is used to, but he doesn't mind. Tifa seems happy and so... he'll share this thing with her. His cloak and clothing contain many hidden pockets; he carries everything he owns with him at all times. Dipping his right hand into one of those pockets, he comes up with something he keeps hidden a moment or two longer.

"At the Shin-Ra offices there, I... took this from my dossier. They had no right to it." What he hands her is a photograph, more a mug shot than anything casual: the picture was taken for official purposes when he was inducted into the Administrative Research department. "This... is who I used to be."

In actuality, Shin-Ra had every right to the photograph; he worked for them at the time but since they won't return any of his father's belongings, he doesn't see why they should be able to keep anything having to do with him. Turnabout is fair play, after all.

"By now I suppose they know my face well enough not to need a picture for reference." The gesture might have been a small one, but he doesn't mind taking small defiant stands. Now he truly has no further affiliation with Shin-Ra Manufacturing.

Her expression grows more solemn as she listens to him... until he says he took the photograph from his dossier and claims Shin-Ra had no right to it.

When he says that, he just sounds like the best former Turk she can possibly imagine, and she couldn't agree more.

"There's a lot Shin-Ra has no right to."

She gives him a little nod, almost as if in solidarity, and takes the picture from him, curiosity in her eyes.

That's Vincent, all right. The front of his hair looks the same, but the rest of it is so much longer. And he's certainly dressed the part of a Turk. With suit and tie looking so neat, it makes her think a little of Rude and Tseng.

(Not Reno. He seems a lot more casual than that.)

His eyes are brown in the picture and not the red she's grown accustomed to. Somehow it seems fitting. Brown is the closest shade to what his eyes are like now, and it's really the only eye color she thinks she could've imagined him having.

Sometimes it's hard to think of Vincent as anything other than exactly what she's always known him as. It's an odd feeling to look the photograph over like this, knowing he's watching. She's surprised he shared it with her, but she's glad he did.

What makes it even more strange is the idea that the picture is at least thirty years old.

For all of the dramatic differences between the Vincent pictured and the Vincent standing here in her room, he doesn't look like he's aged at all. Even knowing all she knows about what happened to him, it's so strange to have this kind of evidence.

There's a little wonderment in her eyes when she looks up, but she smiles at him. "You look very distinguished."

"...Distinguished?" That actually makes him laugh, even if it's a short single huff of breath and the accompanying smile gets wiped off his face immediately. "I thought I was being so... professional, but I look like a deer in the headlights." Then again, he's never seen a picture of himself he's actually liked, so... Tifa has the right to think whatever she wants of it.

Even when it makes him break his placid exterior with laughter; the sound is so alien to his ears that he finds himself pausing, listening to the returning echo. It's fine with him if she wants to study the photograph; if she had handed him one of herself from long ago he'd be doing the same thing. Of course, his has the added benefit of a large curiosity factor: the face in the picture is the same as his face now, although it's some thirty-two... no, thirty-three years since the photograph was taken. In that time, so much has changed... in other ways, some tangible and some less so.

Whenever she's done he knows he'll get his picture back. It isn't that he needs to carry it around, but it was imperative that it not stay with Shin-Ra. Retrieving it was simple; they trained him well. Rule Number Three: never leave a Turk in a room unattended. That comes after shoot first and ask questions later and whatever you are and whatever you have belongs to the Shin-Ra Company. As employees, they had their own set of rules, of course, but it was a long time ago and is irrelevant now.

He is still... amused, however, at her use of the word distinguished. She can rest assured she's the first person to tell him he looks distinguished in over three decades; there's softness in his eyes when he looks at her again. It does feel better to share. Of all the things to deny oneself... well, he won't take advantage of Tifa's kindness. But he will be more inclined to tell her things now, or at least he assumes he will.

He'll try to... be a better friend, starting now.

"You're well? Even though you can't leave?" She must miss Cloud -- her Cloud -- and Marlene and Barret terribly. It's been a very long time since he had anything he might remotely consider a home, but in a short time, she and the others turned that place beneath the plate into a very comfortable residence. If he lived there, he'd be so eager to go back.

As it is, he can't help wanting to see Lucrecia again himself, even though he knows every conversation he has with her these days is more painful than the last. He's drawn to her and simply can't help himself.

"Very pressed and put together."

She grins and looks down at the photograph one more time before she holds it out to him.

What he said about looking like a deer in headlights is an exaggeration -- he doesn't look that uncomfortable -- but it's a good reminder that in spite of everything that's happened to him and in spite of how cool and detached he can come across, he's only human.

To answer his question, she nods her head. "As well as someone who can't leave can be."

It's about like last time: she's a night owl kept up even later by the fact that she doesn't fall asleep easily here and there's a feelings of restlessness that she can't deny, but she's doing as well as possible.

The job will help. Having Vincent around will help even more.

The photograph disappears into a pocket as soon as he takes it back; he's only got one hand free most of the time -- the gauntlet restricts motion on his left hand somewhat, although he's gotten more used to the mechanics of having to wear it over the years -- and one never knows when he'll actually need unencumbered hands.

For an unexpected hug, maybe. He can still almost feel it, and that's possibly the most unnerving thing anyone has ever done to him since...

...since he started looking like some creature out of a nightmare. Tifa, while not eternally understanding, is a very kind and giving person and to say their gently-emerging friendship has caught him off-guard is an understatement. It's something he barely knows how to work. Unlike most children he didn't grow up surrounded by family and friends; he had a long period of isolation followed by an unceremonious send-off to a school far away once he was ten and then... once that was done he began working for Shin-Ra because his whole family worked for Shin-Ra. Establishing social ties, he knows, is nothing that's ever come readily for him.

It was with Shin-Ra, however, that he felt his most... normal: out of school, living on his own, garnering a taste of what most people were like. He's never been as big a drinker as Reno or as much of a company man as Tseng, but a group of his fellow Turks... hung out, spent time together. He's only seen one of them since, though, and it was a number of years ago for a few minutes and it's something he barely remembers.

It was bright when that coffin lid was opened, and he gave the requested information freely before being left to his solitude.

He wasn't ready yet. Not ready to leave, not ready to live.

He still dreams of Lucrecia every night: penance is an ongoing thing. It will probably stretch out for the remainder of his life which should be very long indeed, if one goes by the fact he hasn't aged in thirty years. Ultimately, he assumes, a battle will demolish him.

That's why fighting monsters is fun. It brings hope.

Shaking his head, he blinks the thoughts away. "I... got lost in thought there for a minute." But he won't apologize because she's told him he doesn't have to and he learns easily enough. "For my sake, I'm very glad to see you. For yours... I would like it if you weren't bound to this place." Reaching forward, he rests his hand on Tifa's arm briefly. "I'm very glad to see you."

For a second she thinks he might apologize for being momentarily thoughtful, but he doesn't end up doing it.

And she's glad.

When they were traveling together before Meteorfall, she never heard him apologize all that much and it's not that he's doing it a lot now, but he's definitely apologized for more than he needs to. And she knows that whether or not he apologizes, he blames himself for things she can't think of any reason for him to take such blame for.

She smiles at him again. What he says is almost surprisingly sweet, and though Cid -- and Barret -- would probably never believe it, she's definitely felt better since she opened the door and found him standing there.

"Do you want to go downstairs? We could have some berry tea."

Everything seems a little bit more manageable when you have a friend around.

"All right."

It's getting easier: he doesn't even have to weigh her request with a long list of pros and cons this time and he can feel his eyes soften at her invitation. At this point he would do what she needs him to, but it's also nice to do something because it will be fun.

And it's nothing to do with fighting monsters, or at least not the literal kind, and he sets himself a new goal. This one doesn't involve repentance or atonement -- one would think his plate was already full of those -- but this new goal is to leave the darker memories to appropriate times and places rather than carrying them with him at all times. He's not so sure it's a goal he'll be able to meet any time soon, but if he focuses, he thinks he'll be able to attain it eventually.

At any rate it will give him something to work on while he's here. He would never tag along with Tifa all the time; he's far too used to being self-sufficient to allow himself to do that. But tonight, he'll have berry tea with her and hear all about her time back in Midgar if she'll share that with him. He liked visiting her there, seeing Cloud and Barret, meeting Marlene. And while he can't say he particularly enjoyed grocery shopping, it was an interesting change of pace.

He was alone enough again afterward, so... there's merit in spending time with friends, and no shame in actually wanting to do so.

Moving to the door, he opens it for her, waits until she's safely through, then closes it behind them. Never let it be said that Vincent Valentine -- no matter what he's become -- wasn't raised to be a perfect gentleman.

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[Milliways] Seeking the Familiar

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