This Fiction Contains Adult content!
[Title:] Magnum Opus
[Author:] Jadedsilk
[Fandom:] FFVII
[Pairing:] CidxVincent
[Warnings:] Yaoi, Cid’s Swearing, Character Death, Violence
[Rating:] NC17
[Thoughts:] Well, the request was for a multi-chapter Valenwind. This is of course, completely :ElfAlannah’s fault. I have no interest in criticism, but happy, positive and encouraging feedback always makes another chapter come along more quickly.
[Beta Credit:] Albedosreqium, Lagunanojutsu, Reighnard
[FAN FICTION DISCLAIMER:] I don't own Cid and Vincent. I don't own FFVII. This is a fan fiction made by a fan for fans, I don't make any money.
Chapter Eight:
Reeve Tuesti had never been fond of spending time with dead people. He hadn’t even had time to go to be with his mother when his father had passed away, and it was not a coincidence. Reeve couldn’t handle loss. Why he worked for Shin-Ra was beyond most, but it did explain a bit of the robot building.
The engineer felt the prickling sweat of nausea and the coldness in his fingertips. No, it wasn’t just a phobia, it went far beyond that. The puppet master’s normal response was to vomit and faint upon seeing a corpse, but Rufus Shin-Ra was standing beside him and staring, narrow mouthed, horrified and fascinated down at the violated body in front of them. The engineer couldn’t afford to flinch.
“As I… I said sir,” Captain Stevens began.
“Agreed, this is most impressive,” Rufus said, looking paler than normal, if that were possible, though there might have been a tinge of satisfaction to his expression too.
Reeve tried to breathe through his mouth. Every time someone talked, it echoed in his queasy mind, and even now the smell was getting to him. He also had a damnably good memory, and so it was as he now clutched the file folder he could still hear the coroner’s voice explaining what the evidence supported.
Mutten Kylegate was extremely deceased. Every single organ had been removed, hollowed out, and then stapled neatly back into place. The coroner had decided that he had been alive for most of it. There was evidence of mako healing, and then more torture, because truly this was not an experiment, it had been just that. There was evidence of rape, and this was the part that had made Reeve start sweating, it had apparently happened in multiple organ cavities while the organs still functioned and the man was alive.
This was just something that Reeve couldn’t handle. He knew the corpse had been washed and examined, but he swore things were still moving sometimes. He made it about halfway through the examination, and it was when Reno, in an attempt to lighten the mood of the room, grasped the wrist of Kylegate’s corpse and made it wave. That was when Reeve was carried from the morgue by Captain Stevens.
~*~
Later, once the Turks had gathered themselves from the hilarity, they all piled into a room with a few other Captains, two Generals, and approximately a dozen other intelligence members. Reeve weakly lead the endeavor. This meant that he more or less sat with an ice pack on his forehead and a bottle of water in his hand and directed banter.
“What this means, Sir,” The head of central intelligence said, “is that we have an unprecedented opportunity. Within an organization, whenever there has been an assassination of a leader, there is an opportunity for interception and disruption.”
“Who would have done this?” Reeve asked, trying not to moan the words.
“This is the file for Gray Kilmister. I don’t actually suggest you read it. When Professor Hojo himself fired the man for being a monster, that says a lot,” the Security Chief looked uncomfortable handing over the document, no doubt for what it contained. It wasn’t a thin file.
“This seems like a rookie mistake, dyin’ like that,” Rude grunted, indicating Kylegate’s file.
“He’s dead Aibou ‘cause he didn’t check up on who he was hirin’.”
“There is always a bigger monster,” Rufus murmured, staring down at the file folder that had finally come around the table to him.
Elena looked extremely uncomfortable, and she seemed to be sitting closer to Reeve than necessary. Misery loved company.
“Have you heard back from Barret, Cloud or Tifa?” Rufus asked Reeve.
The engineer seemed to brighten then. “Ah yes,” He began, sitting down his water bottle. “There have been several breakthroughs, our engineers have tweaked some of the designs to make them faster to assemble and construct, their construction has given jobs to many of our jobless. We’re even getting an economical boost from this, and the completed assembly and implementation time is six months. ”
Reeve looked relieved; it had been a good idea to give the team something to do while they waited for some better news about Vincent.
“This is most excellent news,” Rufus began. “For everyone. This will further weaken the beast after having its head removed.”
“We cannot believe, Rufus, that Kilmister will not take this opportunity to make a last ditch desperate effort,” The Chief of Security sighed.
“It has been quiet,” Reeve observed in the way of someone not happy about said observation.
Other than the dead body, it had indeed been so. That was the part that nobody liked.
“The movement has lost power, but we have to be careful, I believe they are rallying for a last ditch effort. Beyond knowing it, it’s a typical terrorist behavior, and nothing this group has done yet has failed to meet the stereotype,” The Security Chief murmured.
“What are our orders, sirs?” Captain Stevens asked, brow wrinkled in thought.
“Be vigilant,” Reeve said. “There is still a piece of the puzzle that we do not yet understand. I am distributing the rounds that you tested, Captain, to all the squads. We are working on adapting them for actual smaller ammunition. All we can do is try to stay one step ahead of the game.”
Rufus’ eyes met Reeve’s. Rufus knew about what piece of the puzzle Reeve spoke, but that was for later.
~*~
Tseng perched on the edge of the table, every inch imposing and intense, while seeming to relax the room for Reeve. It was a kind of presence that the acting head of the W.R.O. appreciated in the man, as a lover, and as a Turk. It gave Reeve a sense of security that he couldn’t place.
“What do we know on a personal level, about those whom Kilmister has access too?” Reeve asked the stoic Turk.
“What we know is this, “ Tseng said, moving to sit slowly at the table instead of on it, his fingers drawing through his long dark hair once and then moving to steeple under his chin. “Gray Kilmister had a lover named Jun whom he frequented the presence of while working for Hojo. The more his projects failed, the more he became violent, disordered. He was fired from the company for being mentally unstable, and a menace to society.
That violence that he held for the company was eventually taken out on his lover. Or so we assume, because Jun went missing. What we do know now, is that Kilmister accessed the companies laboratories through an error in permissions codes, and that he was even muddled enough to log his experiments on the companies machinery. His lover, Jun, went absent, and a mysterious test subject he named H.A.S.M.A.L appeared at the same time. It takes little guess work to know what happened there.”
Reeve’s fingers were now clutching the stem of his wine glass, nerveless. He was perched more tensely on the edge of the couch in his apartment nom, mind working.
“This is unfortunate,”
“Large oversight has always been the downfall of the company,” Tseng said.
“How does this tie into Lucretia’s … abduction?” Reeve asked, fingertips tracing patterns in the condensation on the top of the table.
Tseng offered out a small diskette to the engineer, and Reeve paused in playing with his water to debate if he really wanted to take it.
“The cure to Vincent’s problems lies in Lucretia’s knowledge, and the blood of an ancient.”
“All the ancients are gone, Tseng,” Reeve said, looking aggravated, he had already figured that if anyone knew, Hojo’s wife would. Cloud had been hysterical to find her missing not long ago when they went in search of her. It had been hell to keep the flaky blond quiet about it to Vincent.
“No, not quite, “Tseng adjusted his tie tiredly. “The company has retained some of the blood samples that Professor Hojo was kind enough to leave behind in our cryo-freezer.”
Reeve glanced up sharply. “There’s a cure?”
“Yes, but only Lucretia knows how it works, and she has gone missing. The only person who knows that she has that knowledge would be Kilmister. This is not coincidence.”
“How quickly can we locate her?” Reeve asked, seeing suddenly, the hint of movement and pattern in the puzzle of violence that had been the last few months.
“We will do our best, but we must move quickly,” There was something in the way that Tseng said it that made Reeve raise an eyebrow. They faced problems bigger than her kidnap just by the fact of her cryo-stasis and attaining samples, he could see it in Tseng’s countenance.
“What is it?” Reeve asked.
“We are missing large quantities of key chemicals from our storehouses,” Tseng said, trying to help Reeve come to the conclusion himself.
“Which ones?” the engineer moaned.
“Adenine, guanine, cytosine, thymine, some phosphates…”
“He’s using our bio-engineering stores.”
“Yes, we’ve been monitoring him, hoping to be able to track his motions by what he took.”
“You’ve been letting him in?”
“He already had been, but when we became aware we began to monitor him more closely, so … yes, unfortunately.”
“We have a problem,” Reeve said, setting his wine glass down and finally taking the disk from Tseng. “Is he doing what I think he’s doing?”
“H.A.S.M.A.L. is the hypodermic, and Kilmister already has all he needs to make a life stream lethal batch of what he gave Mr. Valentine.”
“Damn,” Reeve said, finding the word wholly unsatisfactory in describing the gravity of the situation.
~*~
“You shouldn’t climb in your fucking condition, okay?”
Vincent frowned at him, looking deeply insulted and completely exhausted.
“We can make an offering down here,” Cid said nervously, trying to convince the petulant gunman in a way that set the dark haired man’s teeth on edge. His brow furrowed. There was something tense and nervous about Cid, and not just because they were about to head back to W.R.O. Headquarters. Something Vincent didn’t like. The pilot sat there next to a stack of rocks, a stick of incense lit, but it seemed he was far from thinking about what he was doing.
“What is it?” Vincent asked, clawed hand tensing and relaxing. Cid was hiding something from him. All this time he had been, and Vincent had to fight down the knee jerk reaction that he was a fool for all of this, for trusting Cid.
Cid shook his head, and Vincent had to remind himself that he too had kept things from Cid, especially because they were painful. He couldn’t blame the pilot.
“What happened up there?” Vincent asked again, rephrasing the question.
Cid’s shoulder slumped, and he made slow and careful eye contact with Vincent. Sorrow tightened the crows feet at the edge of the pilot’s eyes.
~*~
Hasmal took long and shuddering breaths as he stared down at her. She was free of her crystal, but her face was so pained. He had carried her everywhere with him, and from time to time brought her back here. It kept her looking fresher. She started to disintegrate after a time away from the cave.
“Mother… you are so cold, look at you,” he murmured. Indeed she was cold, her skin was blue, brunette hair stuck to her face in wet waves. “I can make you warm. The planet, can make you warm …” the Angel said, letting his wings wrap them together. Even wet and cold, he could feel a faint heartbeat. He couldn’t remember when he’d last felt his.
“Vin…. cent …” She gasped, ashen lips trembling.
“He will be dead soon, you should not speak his name. Even the planet will not hold him because of the demon you put inside of him, but I? I choose to embrace you, and the planet will too,” Hasmal crooned. It was as logical a comfort as he could offer her.
“I … Choose … “ Lucretia sputtered, and then coughed.
“What do you choose? Mother, you choose nothing but what I give you,” A number of complicated emotions crossed his face, going un-comprehended as he supported her neck like she were a doll.
Her green eyes opened then, fierce and bright.
“I’ve already chosen,” she rasped “there is nothing you can do.”
He nestled his face against the side of her neck, tasting the life that still clung to her. “We shall see,” he sang.
~*~
“Reeve knows the truth, and I sorta’ do too,” Cid grunted.
“What is that truth, Cid?” Vincent asked, starting to pace, the long grass at the base of the falls seemed to part before his feet fell upon it. He was so frenetic but too proud to let it show. The ex-Turk was a study of chaos barely contained under miles of concrete self-restraint.
“She’s missing Vin … we don’t know why or how. We’re trying to find her.”
Vincent froze, his whole body went tense and his hands turned toward his sides, gauntlet and flesh both making trembling fists as the energy he had taken out in pacing gathered in one place now.
He didn’t know why he still cared, why rage and fear and an intense need to protect rose up like a tidal wave. What she had done should have driven this from him. That woman had always been his mistake though, and when he whipped around to glare at Cid, the pilot had the good grace to take a step back.
“How long have you known?” the ex-Turk whispered dangerously.
“Since you were in the hospital, fuck!” Cid’s words would have been a shout if pain hadn’t muted it, taken the edge off.
Cid didn’t make any excuses then, and part of the gunman seriously appreciated that. This thing sat between them now, a truth so big it could crush either one of them, and if they moved the balance would tip and something horrible would happen. They both sensed it. The pilot’s breaths were heaving and it was clear to see his own pain and fear raw at the surface. He didn’t want to lose again. Neither did Vincent, so it was a standoff.
The ex-Turk wanted to hate him for this, but the apology and frustration was apparent in Cid’s eyes, the blond was an open book. He knew what it was like to be where Vincent was, and even at risk of ruining what was between them, Cid was trying to do what was right. Vincent knew it. He knew it but he couldn’t make his body listen.
“How … long?” he repeated, his voice breaking as he swallowed the last word so he didn’t scream. He tried to turn the focus of his pain, hate the one that had taken her, think of where she could be, fix the crisis, not blame others. He had to direct himself or their opponent won. Cid was not the target, but the issue lay in the fact that he wasn’t not. The gunman tried to keep his words neutral; the instinct to fight was strong.
“I will kill Rufus,” Vincent finally said softly. All loyalty aside, this was war.
“Vin, listen to me, it wasn’t Rufus, the Turks are tryin’ to find her just as hard as you. They didn’t take ‘er to experiment on her. They don’t want’er to be gone! Everyone’s tryin’ to find ‘er and you were so sick we didn’t want to freak you out any worse than you were. It coulda just been an oversight! Fuckin’ HELL!” Cid was gesturing angrily now, shoulders hunched.
The pilot wanted to fight, but not with Vincent, and the gunman tried to appreciate and accept this. Cid would fight to bring her back, even now. Because it meant everything to Vincent.
The dark haired man couldn’t speak, he couldn’t reassure Cid. ‘Oversight ‘… that had been the horrible word branded onto both her and himself. Missing, unknown, overlooked, un-pursued and lost without even a shrug or nod. Lost lives, lives that meant nothing but had a past, could have had a future.
He gathered himself, his thoughts, what he knew, what he sensed. He had to act, and act now! Precious time had been wasted. He reached inside of himself, touching where Chaos normally dwelled, pulling on the power to transform and to fly … and nothing met him.
He blinked in disbelief, reaching again. Again, nothing was there.
“Vin… don’t do that, fuckin’ shit!” Cid was already moving, guessing at what the gunman was attempting.
The final time Vincent tried to shift, he wound up tasting blood in his mouth, and heard what little of the planet he could still hear go deadly silent. He buckled to his knees, his claw numb and the muscles arching around it in some tiny spasm.
“We need ta…goddamit Valentine don’tcha ever fuckin’ listen? We can find her t’gether!” Cid growled, kneeling beside Vincent and reaching to try and help. The moment calloused hands supportively clasped over the dark haired man’s bicep, the gunman jerked away.
“Don’t touch me!” Vincent grit out, crouching low in the grass like a wounded animal. “She’s not in that cave, is she?”
Cid had taken a step back, and his eyes were wide. He knew his lover couldn’t be reasoned with right now. No. She wasn’t, and the pilot didn’t have to say anything. Just let Vincent vent.
“Damn you!” Vincent growled, frustrated with everything now, powerless and afraid. The one thing he had left to him, the one thing he could do, was use Chaos to do good. Use Chaos to defeat the darkness Hojo had unleashed on the world, and now that was taken from him.
He would … He would simply have to find another way. He touched his power again, this time clawed hand over his heart as Cid watched tensely. Vincent could feel the shadows there. Chaos was gone, but he could still take the form of darkness. That was all it took to start moving, to start searching. He would plan as he went. It wasn’t something the methodical ex-Turk liked doing, but he didn’t have a choice right now.
“Goddamit Valentine!” He heard Cid shout after him, but he would not be slowed, could not be stopped. He tried not to see the look on the pilots face as he disappeared.
~*~
Cid watched Vincent vanish with his heart in his throat. Already the blond was moving, throwing his bags back into the Bronco and firing up the engines. He dug his spear out from under some wrappers in the cockpit. He’d never find Vincent unless he wanted to be found. The only person in the world he could go to who would have a better idea of where the fucker was would be Reeve. Inaction had killed Shera, and he wouldn’t let it kill Vincent now, even if the stupid fucker had dashed off without a single thought for the situation. He hoped he had some time to consider on the way that his was a really bad time to be divided, and probably exactly what the enemy wanted.
~*~
The flight was long, and no amount of checking the instruments would comfort the pilot when he had nothing but Vincent to think about. It couldn’t possibly be any worse, and when he clipped Rufus’ private helicopter where it happily hogged most of the rooftop landing pad, he was content with a tiny beginning of karmic justice.
Of course he’d heard the radio chatter on his way in, and he hadn’t fuckin’ felt like talking to any of those assbags. He would do what he wanted, when he wanted to. He came in hot, and barely managed to not skid off the helipad. He’d thank Rufus for that one later. When W.R.O security rushed up onto the roof with guns, he didn’t even flinch. “I’ve got some business with the goddamn Chief. Need ta see him right away,” Cid said, spitting his cigarette out onto the white painted tarmac before effortlessly lighting another in the wake of the under-wing props still turning.
“Identify yourself, Sir.”
“Name’s Cid Highwind,” he muttered, cigarette bobbing.
“Wait, are you the guy in charge of the…” One of the grunts had the good grace to look confused but hopeful.
“Of the Airforce. Yeah.”
“I’m sorry sir,” a second saluted him.
“Yah better be ya snot nosed rookie,” Cid growled at him, bumping their shoulders as he stalked past.
Laugh, and the world laughed with you, threaten to turn some green recruits inside out even though it wasn’t their fault, and get amazing service.
~*~
“Where is Vincent?” were Reeve’s first sorrowful words.
“Well that’s a fine greetin’, Fuck Tuesti, you’re worse at this social bullshit as I am,”
“No Cid. This is important. This is very, very, important. I need to know where Vincent is.”
“He found out.”
“He Found. Out?” Reeve asked, disbelief in his tone. “This is… sit down Cid… we need to talk,”
Reeve had a glass of bourbon in his hands, and Cid’s eyes tracked it needily before he glanced out the window and away.
“Would you like a drink?” Reeve asked, his tone was that of one man recognizing another fighting the urge to give up while knowing they couldn’t. The stakes were too high.
“No, I’m fucking done with drinkin’, it wastes my time.”
“Agree,” Reeve said after a long, painful pause. “I needed some time to waste, forgive me drinking now.”
“You know I would be if I could,” Cid said gruffly.
“I know,” Reeve said softly as he set an example by sitting at the table first.
~*~
He couldn’t find her. His lungs burned, he was completely exhausted, and his body felt like lead. He was hungry, thirsty, and the fever had returned. He lay in a faintly charred and abandoned courtyard in Nibelheim, not sure where to go next, but debating the caves beneath the ruins of Midgar. He’d fallen here… who knew how long ago.
He tried to sit up again, and couldn’t. The gunman sobbed once in dull frustration, tugging his fingers through his hair. His fever was rising, and the rumble of thunder above him was not even enough to convince him to drag himself into the ruins of one of the town’s replica houses. It occurred to him just now that his own stubborn nature had gotten him into serious trouble for perhaps the millionth time in his existence. He was also now divided from his friends, ill, completely without backup, and more than likely doing exactly what the enemy wanted him to do, which was why the others had kept this from him.
Even though his body was spent, his mind kept churning. His thoughts of her, and his memories of Cid twined into an amorphous monster in the rainfall that now pelted his upturned face. He was lost, and out of his league. The planet was silent, Chaos was silent, and all those times long ago he had wished for this silence in his head, in the world around him, he found he didn’t want it so much now. There was a kind of painful shock to being utterly alone. He was slowly sinking into the mud, cape soaking up rainwater and making his body feel even heavier.
The silence and pattering rain hung around him like a humming brick wall, louder than all the demons in his head combined ever could be. Now he could examine every single mistake. The look of fear on Cid’s face as he had left haunted him and he growled in frustration. If he could just sit up!
He heard it then, the crunch and squelch of boots in the ashy mud. A feathery shadow fell over him with a flash of lightning.
“Valentine, Vincent,” that cool voice slid across Vincent’s skin along with a wave of chill from the fever. “You do not look well at all.”
The ex-Turk squinted up into the rain, brow furrowed. The man standing over him looked like an angel… he had seen this before. He wasn’t to be fooled. This one even smelled familiar. He had smelled this on the beast at the Reactor. Vincent laughed softly, hand inching towards his gun. At least he would die with his hand on his gun that was, if he could die, which he highly doubted still, even with Chaos silenced. Not for the first time did he note dully that this wasn’t really the advantage it seemed.
“You may not,” The angel said coldly, blue eyes meeting Vincent’s bleary crimson as he stepped on Vincent’s flesh arm to halt its travels.
Vincent managed to move his arm a bit more before the bones ground under the pressure of The Angel’s weight. First rule of surviving a hostage situation. Maintain your autonomy. Control the little things. He wriggled his fast chilling flesh hand until he could touch the stock of the gun.
“So silent, I suppose you think you’re better than me, just like everyone else.”
Vincent said nothing still, giving no response because it riled the other more than words could, and anger lead to mistakes, like the one had just made, but he hoped it might on the part of his enemy as well.
“I hear your heart, it works so hard to beat … you are weak, and weak things do not survive.”
“Monster,” Vincent rumbled finally. The being was beautiful, but he already knew it was no longer human, or even mildly innocent.
“You are more monster than me,” Hasmal crooned.
“You have killed the monster inside me,” Vincent whispered wistfully. “I can call you a monster with no real shame.”
“Do you want to see your woman?” The Angel changed the conversation, hands on his hips crossly.
“It is of no consequence, ” Vincent slurred.
He had to be careful not to give away that she cared. They would hurt her more if they knew for certain they could bargain with her.
“Did you know we were in that cave the whole time, She and I? That we watched everything you did… we even watched you fight and leave and look in all the wrong places?”
“We?” Vincent rasped. It didn’t sound like the royal we, and he couldn’t keep the alarm out of his tone.
“She was with me the whole time … I took her over and over while you rutted with that pilot.”
It took every ounce of control the ex-Turk had left not to let the other see what those words did to him.
The Angel knelt then over Vincent, when he didn’t get a response. His fingertips tracing the raven haired man’s face in the rain, sliding down his cheek and caressing his hair once. The gunman didn’t fight back, just watched with a kind of removed boredom. Even when those pale wings blocked out the rain, and when Vincent could not focus any longer, horror, loss and consciousness slipping from him.
“You played perfectly into the trap, and your lover knew all the time,” Hasmal whispered, stroking his hands down Vincent’s chest, knowing that at least for a time the gunman would still be able to hear and retain. “I will have you now too, and you will make me warm, while I wait for my Master.”
He kissed Vincent once, cradling his head into the cup of his palm to deepen the gesture, tasting to see if life were still there. Indeed it was. Some part of the monster within Valentine, Vincent must still be alive, for no human, nor SOLDIER heart would still beat through this poison.
He gathered the limp form up into his arms, and then turned with a smile. Ah, and here came the cavalry. They would never take this away from him; he swore it, even as he glanced up to see a white helicopter circling to land. They were too late.
“Get yer filthy hands off him, yo!” A red-headed man in a suit shouted down to The Angel over the rotors. He had a machine gun balanced at his hip, and the big bald man beside him had one too.
Even before the bullets hit, The Angel was gone, carrying his prize.
~*~
[Next Chapter:] [[Ch9 Coming Soon!]]
