Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ I Know What Lies Beneath the Snowfields ❯ Chapter 12 ( Chapter 12 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

"I Know What's Beneath the Snow Fields"
Chapter 12


Vincent, finally alone in the bedroom, flung himself on the soft bed.
fatigue had completely overpowered him; he did not even bother removing his
muddy boots off his feet.

As he gradually sunk into unconsciousness, he set his mind sailing awayin
a chaotic, wild sea of thoughts. At times, he found himself arguing
fiercely about some abstract idea; other times, he thought of nothing at
all.

Time dragged on. Vincent shifted to his side, burrying his sickly face
into the pillow. Though he felt incredibly suffocated and hot, his whole
body never stopped shivering. His restless mind drifted in all directions
until it finally settled on the image of the old gentleman on the train.
Vincent lingered over that memory with strange, almost absurd, fascination.

"that man was so old!" he whispered to himself in wonder, "his face looked
like a crumpled piece of paper."

Whether he expected some response, or simply had grown tired of the dreary
silence, Vincent gently peeked out of his pillow. Sweat broke out all over
his body as bouts of violent shivering seized him.

his ears discerned an unnatural buzz behind the door, as if several people
were whispering and humming cautiously. His bloodshot eyes darted all over
the dark room, then fixed themselves rigorously on the door.

"He couldn't even stand up without his cane," Vincent continued archly,
"And he trembled so much..poor man.."

The faint murmurrings behind the door grew louder, but still, Vincent
could not distinguish one voice. He burried his face into the pillow again,
greatly agitated.

"I wonder..," he muttered, "..I wonder if that's how I should look
like..."

He suddenly rolled onto his back, and stared wild-eyed at the black
ceiling.

"No..," he answered with a cold grin, "No..I should have black wings
sprouting out of my back..yes..and fangs dripping with blood too.."

"A monster! A monster!" squealed the disorderly voices behind the door,
"Oh! A monster!"

"A monster..yes..," Vincent agreed, smiling more coldly, "..yes..nothing
but a monster in human form..just like Davoren said.."

The tumultuous voices gabbled away behind the door. Vincent's chest heaved
up and down in sharp pain; he could feel his blood burbling inside. The
rowdy sounds not only drowned his ears, they seemed to strangle his very
life.

"heh heh..," he chuckled amidst the derranged voices, "Y'know, Davoren
saved my life once..strange how I never thought of him until now.."

The voices cackled and cawed rudely: some even screeemed through the
keyhole. As the heat became unbearable, Vincent finally tore open his stiff
collar, but still gazed at the plain ceiling. his breaths grew short.

"But then again," he gasped out, "why is it so strange? i was a monster
then..I'm a monster still. What difference would it make if I hide behind
this mask?"

The voices suddenly fell back to a hushed, faint murmur.

"So what if..it's just..an..illusion..?"

His eyelids steadily grew heavy; his head sunk deeper into the warm
pillow. Everything swirled around his weary head in utter chaos, not sure
where to go.

"He's so angry," hissed a malicious voice into his ears, "He must finish!
He must!"

But Vincent lost conscious before the voice finished.

Though Vincent was semi-aware of his surroundings as he lay on the bed, he
could not induce any of his muscles to move an inch.

He heard someone cautiously slip into the room. He knew that stranger was
peering over him, but his eyes stubbornly refused to open. After a minute,
Vincent felt somebody gently pulling off his heavy boots. The same person
pulled the blankets from underneath him with great care, then covered him.

Whoever that was soon left, shutting the door softly. Vincent was alone
again.

But his interest in his surroundings gradually faded. He floated as gently
as a feather through some grim dream world, fluttering with puff of wind.
He passed so many forgotten memories, details, and faces; but whenever he
reached for them, they instantly vanished into this air.

"Do you remember what happened in the apple orchard?" laughed a sweet
voice out of the darkness.

"Yes," Vincent replied monotonously, "I killed Davoren there.."

"And do you remember what happened in the library?"

"Yes..I was shot there...by the professor.."

He felt two soft hands caress his cheeks tenderly. They were exceedingly
cold.

"Ah," whispered the gentle voice, " but he preserved your life, didn't
he?"

Vincent let out a short, wooden laugh.

"I never had a 'life'," Vincent corrected, "I was just a cold-hearted
killing-machine, made of flesh instead of steel."

the soothing hands withdrew from his bloodless cheeks.

"He never preserved my 'life'," Vincent raved on, "He only preserved my
body.."

There was an eerie silence.

"And sometimes..," Vincent sighed bitterly, "..sometimes I wish he
hadn't.."

"Yes! Yes!" shrieked another voice, mad with excitement, "Yes! Your life
bears no significance! Even you confess it!!"

The insane voice swirled around Vincent, screemed shrilly into his ears,
"it's your body!! Your body was preserved for a purpose!!"

"Was it?" Vincent commented calmly, somewhat bored with the wild voice.

"It's for an experiment," ranted the impatient voice, "An experiment where
all the little pieces fuse together!"

"What 'experiment'?!" asked Vincent in alarm.

An invisible hand suddenly cut him short. It gripped his throat and
squeezed his windpipe with all its might. Another hand dug its sharp claw
deep into his lungs, tearing it to shreds.

Vincent fought in vain for his life. Despite his vgorous struggle to break
free, the iron grip only tightened and tightened until he could breath no
more.

Vincent suddenly woke up from the nightmare.

As he sat up in bed, he could hear someone roaring with laughter from
behind the bedroom door. He stared deliriously at the door, expecting the
person to storm into his room. But the voice only doubled its hysterical
laughter, and began blubbering to a group of dissentient voices.

Vincent did not know how long he listened to the bustling voices. He sat
perfectly still, allowing his dishevelled hair to tumble around his haggard
face. His crimson eyes shone brilliantly; sweat streamed down to soak his
neck and shirt.

"Hurry! Oh hurry!" shrieked a voice over all the commotion, "The Professor
must finish his experiment! He's done yet!!"

Vincent's eyes wandered all over the dark room, examining every obscure,
black corner. He wanted to see this voice. His whole body shook with
intense disgust.

"He cannot finish!" gabbled the angry voice, "He wants you for the
experiment...and that girl!! HE MUST HAVE HER!! HE MUST!!"

Vincent thought he heard Aeris sobbing pitifully amidst all the yammering
voices. she continuously begged someone to stop hurting her, but the
booming laughter soon drowned her cries.

"Poor little girl..," Vincent muttered as the voices babbled away, "He
must be going mad about her..just itching to stuff needles into her
body..and carve her to bits.."

"Precious little darling..," hissed the voice near Vincent's ears, "He
must..he WILL have her.."

A cold, most grotesque smile distorted Vincent's lips.

"..and she's such a sweet, innocent dove..,"he whispered, beside himself
with delirium, "..so much like Lucrecia.."

"Oh, she cannot hide from him!" thundered the malicious voice. It seemed
to grope around the darkness, stumble over objects, even squirm under the
bed, just to find the girl.

Vincent fell back onto his pillow, and gazed dreamily at the ceiling. He
placed one hand on his trembling chest as the voice rambled on. It amused
him greatly to hear this voice splutter curses or mutter to itself in
anger.

"He can find her no matter where she hides!" the voice snarled, agitated
with its dismal failure.

"I'm sure he can," agreed Vincent weakly, "He simply wallows in her fear,
doesn't he? If she trembles, he laughs; and if she runs, he follows."

Vincent remained on his back, but slowly turned his head to look at the
edge of the bed. Despite his painful headache and throbbing chest, he
smiled insolently, almost defiantly, at the darkness. He seemed to detect
some invisible creature peeking over the bed.

"She reminds me of myself," he said, "..when *you* changed my body so many
years ago.."

There was an awkward silence for a few minutes, or maybe several hours;
Vincent had simply lost track of time.

"Heh heh," sniggered the voice finally, "Is that way you try so hard to
protect her from me?"

"Yes..," replied Vincent, his smile fading away, "but there's another
reason why I want to shield her away from you..a reason even I wouldn't
admit to myself until now.."

The voice seemed to linger around the bed, awaiting his mysterious
"reason" with certain impatience.

"It's because I felt that whenever I protected that girl..I was somehow
protecting Lucrecia too.."


The voice let out an impudent guffaw, then scoffed mockingly at the
madman. Nevetheless, it sounded highly amused.

"Yes, I'm cursed, Professor," Vincent raved bitterly, " Cursed with this
odious mask I wear, but even more cursed with her..her and her unbearable
reproaches!!"

Vincent squeezed his eyes shut, then clutched his hair in agony; the
headache was boring straight through his skull. He thought he heard the
voice chuckle quietly at his suffering.

"I hoped that if..," Vincent forced out, "..if I protected someone else as
helpless as Lucrecia was.. maybe then, she'd forgive me for abandonning
her.."

The voice could no longer restrain itself; it burst out into a coarse,
insulting laugh. The other discordinate voices readily joined in.

Vincent tiredly threw one arm over his eyes. The cruel voices only
intensified his headache with their senseless screeming. They pierced his
head, trampled all over his battered brain, then stormed away, only to
return again. His chest writhed in sharp pain; he could feel it gurggling
with hot blood.

"What a sentimantal fool you are!" exclaimed the voice contemptuously,
"You think you can be forgiven/! You left her to suffer alone, and now you
grovel, like the pathetic wretch you are, and cry for her forgiveness?!"

Vincent kept his arm over his face. He did not flinch a muscle. All the
other voices were silent too, afraid to interrupt their leader.

"Answer me!" demanded the loud voice, "Do you think you DESERVE to be
forgiven?!"

Vincent deliberately removed his arm, and fixed his ruby-red eyes on the
ceiling.

"No," he replied composedly, "No matter what sufferings or pains I take, I
know it cannot satisfy her...nor could it hope to erase the the agony she
bore..I don't deserve her forgiveness.."

Vincent sat yp in bad again, lettling all the little voices whizz around
his numb head. His corroded lungs howled in pain, as though they might
explode any moment. He thought he heard Aeris wailing behind the door
again. Absolute insanity glared at him from the foot of the bed, just
waiting for the right moment to attack.

"You could not protect her from me, Sir!" bellowed the voice hoarsely,
"You can not protect this girl from me either! She's beyond your feeble
reach!!"

Vincent cast his eyes down in utter dejection. The voices sang jeeringly
in his ears.

"Why look at your hands," commanded the booming voice, "Look! What do you
see?"

He mechanically looked into the palm of his hand and claw. They were
smeared with a dark red colour.

"..blood..," Vincent whispered stoically, "..I see blood.."

"Whoose blood?"

"..mine..and hers..and Davoren's..and everyone else I've killed.."

All the voices instantly screamed triumphantly, then dispersed to a wild
murmur around him.

"Oh yes! You're good at murdering, Vincent!!" praised the voice, "It comes
so naturally to you! A monster AND a murderer!!"

Vincent stared in wonder at his bloody hands, then covered his face again.
He felt very cold all of a sudden.

"It's your fault Lucrecia is dead!!" shouted several voices at once,
"YOURS AND YOUR ALONE!"

"I know..I know..," he cried, extremely agitated, "that's what I've been
telling myself for the last thirty-one years.."

"And you think you can protect that little girl?" jeered all the voices in
a unanimous shout, "You, a monster, a murderer, and a hypocrite?!! You, a
thosand sins to deform you?! YOU protect her from me?!!"

All the voices swarmed around Vincent's head, sceaming "monster! monster!"
into his numb ears. He clutched his aching head as they forcefully squeezed
themselves into his brain. He heard someone laughing hysterically; Aeris
still sobbed behind the door; another babbled about going somewhere. Each
voice tried its best to drown the other, none took pity on him.

They drilled into his head until Vincent felt his throat suddenly garggle
up some hot liquid: it was his own blood.

With his hand over his mouth, he bolted out of the bedroom, and stormed
into the bathroom across the hall. Kicking the toilet seat up, he bent over
it, just as the rotten blood exploded out of his mouth.

The dark, fuming liquid splashed indiscriminately all over the toilet,
even dripped onto the floor. Vincent struggled vainly for air; two
invisible claws seemed to mangle his lungs to force all the life out.

He began to choke and hack violently on his own blood. His corroded lungs
screamed for air, causing his his entire body to writhe around the hapless
toilet.

Some maddening force tried to overpower his senses. Though Vincent fought
wildly against it, his feeble strength drained away with his blood. Huge,
purple wings ripped through his shaking back and spread clumsily over the
bathroom. His hands, already half-deformed, twitched horribly as the skin
darkened into a sickening, coarse purple colour. He could feel his whole
face contort into a hideous shape.

He was warping into the hateful Chaos Form against his own will. The evil
monster growled for its freedom, and seemed on the brink of erruption.

"NO! NO! NO!!" screamed Vincent, squirming madly on the floor. He kicked
his legs; stiffled his breath; chewed his lower lip; anything to stop it!
He would NOT transform into the creature!!

He hurled all his strength, force, and determination against the beast to
repress it. He somehow managed to withdraw the grotesque wings into his
back. His skin returned to its normal pale colour. The monster reluctantly
retreated back into the darkness, and Vincent triumphed.

When the attack had finally ceased, Vincent found himself on the bathroom
floor, gasping loudly for air. His whole body burned with fever.

Vincent stared all around the bathroom, completely dumbfounded: the toilet
next to him dripped in his rotton, black blood. Much to his amazement, he
noticed himself sitting in a pool of hot blood. his shirt was drenched in
sweat and blood as well.

The entire bathroom reeked of sickness and vomit. He still could not
understand any of what had passed. After a silent moment, he scuffled up to
his feet, then fell against the sink, almost slipping in the sticky blood.

He gawked blankly at his image in the mirroe above the sink. Large, red
blots of blood smeared his pallid cheeks. His crimson eyes shone with
insane delirium. His hair, tangled and dishevelled beyond hope, hung in
thick clusters all around his face.

He looked like a perfect madman.

Disgusted with his whole sickly appearance, especially his bloody mouth,
Vincent garggled up the blood in his throat, then spat it out
contemptuously.

He mechanically turned open the faucet. The cold, soothing water flowed
through his trembling fingers as he tried to cup his hand. Vincent scrubbed
his mouth once or twice, but stopped short on noticing something else in
the mirror: he finally noticed Aeris standing behind him, completely scared
out of her wits.

He did not feel guilty, troubled, or even angry. He stared calmly at her
image in the mirror, then turned around to face the horrified girl. Leaning
himself against the sink in an unnaturally composed manner, Vincent fixed
his burning eyes on her. He said nothing.

Aeris fidgetted by the doorway, too afraid to enter yet too alarmed to
leave. Her hair looked terribly distorted, her face pale and distressed.
She had obviously been sleeping.

Perhaps she saw him vomit his blood all over the toilet; or caught him
convulsing on the cold floor. Maybe she even saw him fight that loathsome
transformation. Vincent's mouth twisted into a wry smile: he did not care
what she had seen.

"Ah, Aeris," he greeted in a terribly cracked, hoarse whisper. Aeris gave
a violent start on hearing her name.

"Heh heh..don't be frightened," he chuckled, "It's only blood." He touched
his cold face in wonder, then added archly, "Blood suits my face better,
don't you think?"

Though she could not tear her anxious eyes away from him, she dared not
answer the madman. His eyes sparkled with alarming insanity, and his bloody
face only added to their brilliance.

Vincent suddenly took a step forward, but froze when he noticed the girl
recoil infear. He stood in the middle of the bathroom, still gazing at her.
His eyes slowly softened.

"Poor liitle girl..," he muttered compassionately, "Why were you crying
behind the door? Were you afraid I'd be angry if you came in?"

Aeris blinked in confusion at him. She did not understand his meaning.

"I..I wasn't crying behind the door, Vincent," she stammered in a low
voice, " You've been having a nightmare..."

"You were crying..," he repeated to himself, taking no more notice of her,
"I must have frightened you..you're always afraid of me..."

Aeris was silent. Vincent turned his head in many directions while
constantly rubbing his forehead. He seemed greatly perplexed with his
chaotic ideas.

"You're probably more afraid of me that Hojo..," he raved on
good-humouredly, "..not..not that I mind, really...you should be afraid of
me.."

He staggered out of the bathroom, scarcely seeing anything. His body
shivered with fever and delirium. Aeris immediately made way for him to
pass, not having enough courage to interrupt him.

"Ha ha!" Vincent laughed as he dragged himself back to the bedroom, "..so
much like her..she was always afraid of me too...so afraid of the
monster..and blood..red blood..yes..."

His mind floundered in a strange sea of mayham. He could not remember
where he was, or why his body felt so heavy. The air suffocated him. He
could hear his heart thumping in him aching chest.

Vincent stumbled over something, and seemed to be
falling..falling...falling...

Then suddenly, everything went black.