Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ I Know What Lies Beneath the Snowfields ❯ Chapter 30 ( Chapter 30 )

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

"I Know What's Beneath the Snow Fields"
Chapter 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 scrutinised 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 30 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, courtesying 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 months 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, "analysing" 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 analyse 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 hardwork 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
recoverd. The young mother, raveged by delirium, had cried for days
afterwards, sobbing repetedly 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 heartboken 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 organising 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'd 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 organise 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 bare 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 latern
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 dishevelled 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 dreamilly, "..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 posessed 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 scarecly 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 fidgetted 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, "..Sephiroh..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 burried 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
burried 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
disperesed 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
abandonning her.

But she had spoken the truth.

Vincent admitted to himself he had always somehow known Lucrecia was
not truely 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 abandonning 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 apeared 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
latern. 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 angirly. 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 nevermind, Mr.Valentine,
you can sleep for all eternity, perserved 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?