Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ I Know What Lies Beneath the Snowfields ❯ Chapter 31 ( Chapter 31 )

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

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 beatiful 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 abandonning 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
excrutiating 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 grovelling, 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 abandonned her to a cruel fate. He had
watched her suffer instead of preventing her pain. In short, Vincent did
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
posessed 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 whenevera 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 burried 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 belltower 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 whitness. 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 dishevelled, 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 sleevless 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 tranquillity 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 fidgetted 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 angirly, 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 noislessly 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 cosy blankets had
slipped off her upper body, thus exposing her neck and enire 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 gloom 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 thet 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 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 disern
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. Vincnet 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 mightmarish 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 burried 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.