All for the Love of Chaos

Chapter 7

The snow was no longer pretty. The lights from the windows were no longer cheerful. There was a tightening in her gut that made her want to sit down. She had just left her friend and comrade in the defiled snow to whatever had felled him.

Eventually they reached the hotel again. The lobby was dark and silent; the clerk at the empty desk had long since abandoned his post. He turned back to her and asked for her room number, so that he could check on her later. She complied automatically, not asking his though. He bid her a brief and stiff farewell then turned on his heel and went up the stairs to his room on the second floor. She stood there for a while after she heard his door close at some length down a hallway somewhere.

Kay left the lobby eventually, heading not in the direction of her room but to the guest utility wing, shedding her clothes as she went. The laundry room was empty of course, the lines of washers and dryers silent and ghostly in the pale light. As she walked to one of the last ones near the back she began to shed. She slammed her nightstick down on an adjacent washer along with her silver flask with the initials engraved in it. The ball chain of the ID tags made a soft hiss as it connected with the metal surface. The jacket was ruined; she would never be able to wear it again. Even though it was leather, she tossed it in the washer. Her sweater and shirt may have been salvageable, though she would never wear them again. The pants were okay; it's pretty hard to stain black. All it went in save her plain cotton underwear with the crazed elastic and socks. The bang of the lid sounded loud in the hollow room.

She plucked a big blanket from a nearby bin and wrapped up in it. She sunk to the floor; bare knees drawn up to her chest while her back was soothed by the gentle wash cycle, soft sobs barely audible over the hum and slosh of the machine. Here she was safe, no one could hear her, no one knew what she was doing, and no one would worry about her if they didn't know anything was wrong. She could be alone. The world blurred, becoming gray and black streaks around her as warm tears coursed down from her cheeks to her chin then drip on the blanket.

Now it hurt. Now she was paying, more sorrowful now then ever. More painful because she had let down her friend, left him. She just left him there; to face alone what horrors would be subjected to him by that…that monster. No, not that monster, the real monster was warm and safe in the hotel that they had come to together while his body froze to the ground, half buried with snow. She should have never come here. He should have never gotten involved with someone like her in the first place. Would he still have been friends with her if he had known she was going to abandon him?

There was a soft rustle that she didn't notice, the whisper of a long coat. She felt someone sit beside her, a strong arm pulling her closer to a black form that she could lean on. Instinctively, not caring who it was or where they came from, she buried her face in the long black folds of a soft black dress shirt, loosing all reservations as she sobbed into the gunslinger’s chest as he rocked her softly. She had wanted to be alone, but not lonely. Another leather-clad hand rested on her back, hesitantly stroking her skin along the spine.

He said nothing, offering his silent sympathy. Words were not needed. He pulled the girl against him, hugging her tightly, as one would a small child frightened of a nightmare. Kay lost all reservations sobbed into the gunslinger’s chest, soaking the silk dress shirt with her tears. He just held her, rocking the Highwind child slightly.

Why was he doing this? Where was the cold-blooded gunslinger, as immune to sobs as he was screams of pain? What was this impulsive display of comfort and kindness, the urge to go to seek out the young woman and let her cry into his chest? He didn't know, and there were no answers in sight. But he couldn't undo his actions or cover for them. But he didn’t care. In some odd, foreign way, it felt good to be needed.

It felt like hours to the pair, but in reality it was only twenty minutes before she calmed down. She placed a palm against the toned firmness of the man’s pectoral muscle, and pushed herself up, the young pilot’s face level with the dark man‘s. If it were not for the dampness of her cheeks, no one would have suspected she had been crying at all.

"I'm sorry," He said, though not entirely sure as to why. If she could have seen his eyes, she would have found only compassion and concern.

"Who are you?" She asked quietly, innocently.

"The man who took you home," he replied simply, not wishing to elaborate. Why the hell had he gotten involved? Her eyes narrowed slightly, but not unkindly. She was searching his face for answers, though finding nothing. Kay was an expert at judging character and seeing things that others couldn't, just like her father. But the stoic dark man was proving to be very difficult to read.

"Take off your glasses," She demanded.

"What?"

"Take off your glasses," she repeated in the same soft tone. "I want to see your eyes."

His forehead creased slightly, she wouldn't have seen it if she had not been so close to him. "Why?"

"Why not? You have something to hide?" Was this man who she thought he was? No, he couldn't be, it was impossible--wasn't it?

He searched her eyes for deceit but came up negative. Hesitantly, he brought the hand that had rested on her back to the earpiece of his specs. He took them off carefully, eyes closed. With a soft sigh, he opened his eyes. She was met with a harsh, intense, red. His eyes were a dark brown once, but involuntary infusions of mako and Jenova had changed their color to a brilliant bloody red and gave them a glowing, unnatural luster. Extremely distinctive.

She had never seen a picture of him before, no one had. There were group pictures taken for every newspaper in the world. The father had kept a rather good one in particular. There was Cloud, with his hair looking as if he had shoved a metal fork in an electrical outlet. He had his arm around the beautiful Tifa, who had had very nearly considered plastic surgery after having every dirty man's magazine in existence offer her money for her gravity-defying breasts. Cid was next to them, smirking as he had a firm arm hand around a second brunet's waist, who was blushing profusely behind wisps of stray mousy hair and taped horn-rimmed glasses. Barret was grinning from ear to ear and held a small girl on his massive shoulder who beamed at the camera. A large red tiger-like animal was sitting regally in front of a teenage thief and a man in a crisp blue suit with a goatee and what looked like a toy remote in hand. What a crew.

But one had been missing.

She said nothing for what seemed like years. Then, slightly breathy with disbelief, she spoke.

"You're Vincent Valentine."

Slowly, he nodded.

Kay frowned, brows knotting. "But…how is that possible? You're one of daddy's old friends…"

"I do not deserve to be called a friend of your father's," he stated quietly, but she took no notice.

"It's impossible. The Crisis was twenty years ago. How old are you? Twenty-seven, twenty-eight tops? Aunt Yuffie was the youngest of the party, you would have had to've been a kid, but dad said you were one of the older members…"

She looked to him for answers. She could see a sort of sadness in his eyes. "How much has your father told you about me?"

"More then he told the public. Only that you were a Turk once, and that you're an expert marksman that kept to himself a lot. He wouldn't tell me much else, no matter how much I asked him..."

His mind was suddenly transported back in time to the flight deck of the airship, Highwind. Cid admiring the view from the massive observation window, arms folded against metal as he hunched over the railing. Vincent was there as well, though less relaxed, standing in the shadows as if the pure light from the moon would burn him.

"Cid?" He had asked.

The pilot made an indiscernible noise to show he was listening.

"If I were to tell you some certain…things about me, about my past, about things that no one should ever have to know or experience, would you keep it to yourself and tell no one?"

Cid had turned to look at him, the glowing end of his cigarette reflecting in his eyes. He looked tired. Despite being only thirty-two, he honestly did look like an old man once the responsibilities of being a leader weighed down on his shoulders. "Why wouldya tell me in the first place? Shit, Vince…I mean, I'm a pilot, not a psychologist."

"Yes or no?"

He didn't answer for a while, thinking things over while he searched the gunman's face, but when he did it was in the kindest and sincere tone he had ever heard from the gruff and hardened pilot. "I'm honored that you trust me, hard thing to earn from a guy like you, I guess. Whadaya want me to know?"

"So he kept his promise…" Vincent mused thoughtfully, his gaze lifting to settle blankly on something just over the top of her head.

"So what? You find the fountain of youth or something? Or just a lot of plastic surgery?"

He looked back to her, somewhat sadly. "There are things that are best kept secret."

Kay said nothing, no scoff of annoyance or additional prying, only a nodded understanding. With those grounds settled, she rested back against him. Vincent sighed inwardly. It felt good to have a warm body so near. He remembered when he and Lucrecia had curled up against one another in front of the fire, long before things tragically ended. But his mind, always on business, had better things to do then entertain cheap pleasures.

"I need to get up, we need to find you some clothes."

She raised her head to stare at him. "Huh?"

"I'm taking you home. The highways won't be cleared for days. We'll take the trail over Mount Nibel by chocobo, I have two stabled nearby," he said quietly.

"Right now?"

"Yes."

"You can't be serious."

"I am."

"Now?"

"I'm doing it to save you from trouble."

"Trouble? What the hell do you mean?"

"You were the last one to be seen with your friend." It wasn't a question, it was a blunt statement.

"Yeah…"

"What will the authorities think? A government pilot missing, his blood stains all over your clothes? It is not a good position for you to be in. With such evidence against you, pleading monster attack would get you no where."

She merely sighed, shaking her head listlessly, tears threatening her again though she guarded her appearance. "This is too much to take in one night."

"As difficult as it may be, we must get out of here."

"We?"

"If they find you they may find and take me into custody."

"Why?"

"Because I have a tendency to interest people," said Vincent in a tone that hinted that the matter would not be taken into any further detail.

She stared at him critically. "We have to take another with us, a Soldier that we were escorting to Rocket Town."

"That would only complicate matters."

"Like being caught with a strange man in the middle of the night in the laundry room wouldn't?" chuckled a voice from the entrance of the room.

Vincent's head whipped around to see a man standing in the doorway, mocking, glittering green eyes locking with red. He held a long silver sword in one hand while the other was thrown out to act as a counter balance, yet it did not appear that he had any intention to strike. The heart-shaped face, the malicious green eyes, the sword--could it be? After so many years? That one of his darkest nightmares and greatest fears had materialized right in front of him? The hair was different, he was distinctly younger and his eyes did not betray any sign of insanity, but he was sure it was Him. The maniac that had tried to end all of humanity. Immediate distrust and fear was aroused from deep within what remained of his shattered soul.

He wanted to do the first thing that entered his mind: protect the girl. Unfortunately, that plan was shot all to hell when he realized that Kayla had poked her head over his shoulder.

"Damitri?"

The Soldier visibly blanched at the discovery of the identity the female partner of this eloping couple. Stumbling upon people making out was a particular hobby of his. It was embarrassing and just plain funny as hell. But this hit home. His jaw dropped.

"Kay?" He asked shakily, dumbstruck. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Damitri…" She trailed off, not sure what to say. She was wrapped up in a blanket with her bare shoulders exposed being held by a rather shady looking man on the floor of a lonely laundry room of a cheap hotel; she knew what it must have looked like. She grinned slightly at the absurdity of it, though it was pained and stricken with sorrow. In a soft voice that nearly broke several times, she told him the events of the night. He listened intently. Vincent merely stared at 'Damitri,' not even objecting to the fact that Kay had disclosed his identity.

"So you're a Highwind? Heh, that makes a lot of sense…And so you're going though the mountains?"

She nodded. "I’m going home, I guess. Mr. Valentine is going to escort me."

He looked at the gunslinger. Goddamn, he gave Damitri the creeps. The black clothing, the face that displayed no emotion what so ever and those bloody, glowing eyes that had not stopped looking at him since he had first come in the door. Vincent Valentine…He had heard of the name before, he had been an old Turk from about fifty years ago. But it couldn’t be the same man, age would have killed him off a long time ago. Maybe it was his son or something. But still, he looked like a bloody vampire.

"You could come with us, if you want."

And then there was Kay, with a body of a super model and feisty as hell. She in herself was not entirely threatening to him. He still wanted to be with her, even if it was just through the mountains. She still had a date to for fill after all. And if he could get her into bed with him, well, that thought alone was all the prodding he needed.

"Sure," he said brightly, grinning at her. "When do we leave?"

Ten minutes ago, Vincent thought ruefully. God, what have I gotten myself into?

Go bon to Chapter 8