Fan Fiction Final Fantasy VII: Awakening

[Lady of Shadows]

Now that I've finally gotten the courage to post this finished fanfic here, I'm kind of excited about it. This is shorter than what I usually write, so I apologize for anything that sounds choppy It's my first completed fanfic ever, and so far only LadyAerith has read it :3 I began it in late August, and after large amounts of devestating family drama and work stress, it's been one of the very few things that's kept me sane. I hope you guys like it...I'm rather self-concious about it xD

Now, without further adieu, here's chapter one! And the title pic was made by LadyAerith!

-o-o-o- One -o-o-o-
New Moon





The sky was black silk, the only light coming from the pale stars glittering in its depths. The air was icy, the frost-sparkling grasses shivering underfoot in the midnight breeze, but Mari Silverwing wasn't cold. Even if she had felt the cold, she would have enjoyed it, just as she used to before Sephiroth betrayed everyone and Meteor took all she had.

Her thick, shin-length red cloak was buckled stiffly over the lower half of her face and covered her arms and chest, and her wide-brimmed red hat was lowered over her eyes with its lone white feather dipping and swaying in the air. Below the shadow of her cloak, two wide white belts were buckled around her slender waist, and the hem of her plain skirt--the same color as her cloak and hat--fell unceremoniously to the ground. The young woman stood just outside the white boughs of the Sleeping Forest, gazing at the sky and the horizon, as was her habit for the last six months. She enjoyed the ethereal solitude and quiet where she could just think and stargaze, and watch for the man she had seen several times in that first month.

He was silent, fluid and confident in movement, his ragged crimson cloak matching her own in that it was buckled up over his chin. He was of pale skin and long-flowing black hair, a great gun glaring from his right hip and something gold glinting all the way from the fingertips of his left hand to the edge of his cloak; Mari thought it to be some kind of gauntlet. His eyes were shadowed by a wide red headband, and he never seemed to be aware of her as he walked through the secluded forest into the Forgotten Capital, even on that first night when his sudden presence startled her right into the branches of one of the trees. He seemed to emanate a shield of calming coolness and power that intrigued her, and long after he would disappear into the blue-lit shadows, she would stare after him, mystified.

Not once had Mari thought of following him, for the strange man didn't appear to be the type who welcomed being followed by a stranger. It slightly irritated her that her walks into the Forest to think and be alone had turned into pulse-quickening waits for the man to show up again, and it irritated her further that she was disappointed when he stopped traveling through her range of vision. Maybe he had seen her, and had decided to choose a different path to avoid her staring eyes. The Forest was a sanctuary to her, but maybe it was to him as well. Mari could not know this for sure on his part, but she wished she could get a closer look at him just once.

Sighing into the warm fabric of her cloak collar, Mari shifted her weight and leaned back against a tree. The Forest let her mind go at ease, melting away her fears and thoughts that had been weighing so heavily on her mind for over two years. She could just let go, feel her muscles relax from their rock-hard tension that she carried every day, and feel relief that her thoughts no longer plagued her. As long as she was under the eaves of the hushed Forest, she felt that nothing could ever touch her again.

Almost three years ago, Mari was twenty years old, living with her parents and four younger siblings in Midgar. It still pained her to remember her three brothers and one sister, whom she had deeply cherished despite all the tantrums and familial spats, and her softly smiling mother and her ruddy-cheeked father. Even now, the memories were beginning to dim; greying visions of the children running and laughing around the kitchen table, with the ever-calm Rhia Silverwing shaking her head and smiling as her husband tromped into the house with muddy boots and soundly kissed her temple. Memories of seventeen-year-old Ran learning how to run the father's well-kept inn and bar, and thirteen-year-old Akio acting completely unlike his elder brother and shirking as much responsibility as he could get by with. Memories of ten-year-old Kin being loud and boisterous and yanking on seven-year-old Kaiya's curly ponytail. There were warm memories, bad memories, memories that registered tears in Mari's eyes or faint laughter in her heart. They were all fading, maybe to help her heal, to completely close off her pain.

Mari had been training in magic, and had left the house after fighting with Akio to go visit her trainer and mentor, old Sheena. Mari didn't even tell the angry boy goodbye, nor did she stop at the inn to have a brief but pleasant chat with her father and Ran. She had managed to kiss her mother on the cheek, ruffle Kin's hair as he tried to trip her, and squeeze little Kaiya's hand before leaving, but it was more out of habit than affection, because she was furious at Akio and just wanted to leave. Little did she know that it was the last time she would ever see them alive again, for she and her family had thought the Holy spell that was traveling toward the dangerously looming Meteor would work perfectly.

But it hadn't, and only caused more destruction, and even the building Mari had been learning in on the outskirts had been affected. Mari had been briefly trapped, lacerations covering her face and arms, but she had managed to heal herself before going to find the old mage who had trained Mari's mother. She had found her dead, crushed under the beams of the collapsed roof, and Mari had gotten herself out of the ruins and ran straight to her home. But it and the inn were no longer there, just haphazard piles of smoking rubble, and searching proved her worst fears; her family had been killed in the chaos.

The next thing she knew, she had been standing in the cemetary, staring down blankly at the freshly turned earth and the line of headstones that coldly bore her family members' names. All but Kaiya's body had been found, and Mari figured that the fragile little girl had been crushed so badly that her remains just couldn't be collected. Her sweet little sister, ground to dust.

Over time, the terrible pain began to be locked away in her aching depths, and Mari began to harden her heart to it. She wanted to be numb, she didn't want to hurt so badly anymore. Six months ago, when Sephiroth was finally destroyed for good, she felt sharp closure that brought back much of the pain that she had tried so hard to keep at bay, and she couldn't bear it. She almost had to start all over again, but she found that each day was beginning to get easier.

But, dim as the memories were becoming, the pain was still there, weighing down Mari day by day, still eating at her. She wished she could have gone to see her father and Ran, and made her peace with Akio instead of storming out like she did. But it was too late, and the Sleeping Forest was the only thing that kept her sane and grounded anymore.

So why had her thoughts, which were supposed to be quieted and soothed in this tranquil place, begun to whirl into gear once again and affix themselves upon the strange, tall man dressed in red and black?

He probably will not come back, Mari thought to herself. And why would he? I would not like to be stared at like a museum piece, either.

For some time, she watched the stars continue in their slow, eternal wheel across the sky. She stifled a yawn and clenched and unclenched her gloved hands, making sure they hadn't gone numb even under her cloak. Besides trying not to feel pain anymore, other feelings had been dulled as well, including the ability to feel mirth or the cold. She thought she might get hypothermia and never notice until it was far too late.

Moving from her spot against the tree with untired eyes and a clear mind, Mari decided to keep walking through the forest instead of trying to sleep. She lived with a kind, middle-aged woman in Kalm Town until the shaky city of Edge was built up outside Midgar's ruins, and they had moved into a house at Edge's southern flank. But Mari loved to travel and couldn't stay in one place long, and she often took days' journeys and begged her hostess not to worry about her. Mari had a strong head and strong muscles, and she held power with the help of the long, white twisted staff that held a small blue globe inside perfectly carved claws at its top. This staff she now pushed herself along with, as though it were a plain walking staff, and quietly moved through the Forest.

"Oh shadow man, where are you?" she softly said, then blushed in annoyance at herself for saying such a thing out loud. For all she knew, the man could be a foe. But she really wanted to know if he was or was not. Either way, she could deal with him. She would deal with him, for then her mind would be a calm emptiness again when she came to the Forest.

A deep-brown tendril of hair escaped from under her hat and fell into her eye, which was as green as summer. She pushed it back and slightly lifted the brim of her hat, peering with keen vision into boughs and past tree trunks. There was nothing and no-one, and now the complete aloneness bothered her a little. And that surprised her, for the solitude had never before affected her this way.

She walked on, gravely alert, until she reached a small, brush-filled clearing. The starlit sky was beautiful even without the glowing face of the moon, but Mari would have preferred to have that extra light on this eve. Sighing through her nose, she decided to take a brief rest, and folded her legs under her and sat in the silvery grass. She laid her staff across her knees, feeling the memory of Sheena in it. The pain nearly came back in an unguarded wave, but Mari quickly shoved it aside and looked away.

And looked right at a pair of black-clad shins.

Mari yelped and sprang to her feet, but her skirt tripped her and she sprawled on her back, her hat just barely clinging to her head and her staff thunking her soundly on the chest. Wheezing and embarrassed for being caught so completely off-guard, she aimed the little globe of the staff at the stranger and gasped as her panic subsided.

It was the shadow man. Gods, but he was beautiful. His eyes were shadowed, but they seemed to be glowing as they gazed nonchalantly at her. His hair was like fine threads of the very night sky, whispering over one eye and tumbling over his shoulders. He was built in almost a lanky way, but there was no lankiness anywhere in his gait, just a smooth, almost frightening grace. He evaluated her just as she did him, and she felt a black bubble of fear rise from her belly into her chest as she realized the great golden thing on his arm looked more like his actual arm than a mere gauntlet.

With his black-gloved flesh hand, the man reached down to Mari without seeming to move any muscles at all. Of course, that was impossible, and Mari inwardly scolded herself for thinking like that. "I've frightened you. Forgive me." The man's voice rolled out from behind his collar with a rich, soft baritone, and Mari almost forgot her spark of anger and further embarrassment at letting her fear show that obviously.

"You just startled me, is all," Mari grumbled, figuring she could attack quickly if the strange man attacked her. But at the same time, as she cautiously accepted his hand with her own, she wondered if she really could attack faster than he could. Somehow, she could tell he was swift and lethal in his actions.

"Hm." She knew the man didn't believe her, and she hesitantly peered into his eyes as she let him gently pull her to her feet. Those eyes, barely seen under the shadow of the headband, were lovely and exotically slanted, almost hypnotizing. Mari quickly let her gaze casually drop, taking in his pale, flawless skin, strong nose, and what she could see of his partially-covered lips. He was dark and he was beautiful in an unworldly way, a way that speared Mari with nervousness and set her stomach fluttering.

"Well..." Mari said, her voice hitching and making her blush even more. "The Forest is big enough for the both of us, so as long as we're no danger to the other, it's all right." She realized she had not let go of the man's hand, and that he didn't seem to mind. "Err, right. I'm very sorry, and I'll be on my way now. I'm sorry if I bothered you or anything." She loosened her hand and tried to turn away, but those eyes was burning into her own.

"You didn't bother me, and there is no need to fear me," the man said, his voice making instinctive little shivers play their way down Mari's spine. "I come here often. You may not always see me walking through. I saw you sit down and I wanted to see if you were all right, but you seem to be, if not a bit unnerved that I so suddenly interrupted your rest."

In the breeze, his hair shifted slightly, uncovering his eye. Starlight glanced upon it, and Mari bristled as she noticed that the iris was as crimson as his headwrap and cloak.

"No, it's perfectly fine, just fine," she fumbled, pretending not to notice his eyes anymore. "I--uhh, I have to--that is to say, my hostess is expecting me home, so I really need to get going. It was nice meeting you, and I'm sorry for being so startled...mister...uhh..."

"Valentine," the man said softly. "Vincent Valentine."

"Ahh, Mister Valentine." She wasn't sure if she wanted this stranger to know her name and possibly find her, but it would be entirely rude if she didn't, and she never liked to be rude. "I'm Mari Silverwing."

The man inclined his head ever so slightly. "Now that we have been properly acquainted, Miss Silverwing, may you have a good night. Maybe we shall run into one another again soon."

"Yeah, you too...maybe...yeah..." Mari was still fumbling for words when the man promptly swirled around and disappeared into the shadows.

-o-o-o-

The air where the girl Mari had been seemed warm, separated from the wintry coldness. Vincent Valentine contemplatively sat where she had in the clearing, wondering at the strange tangible heat. When he blinked, he could still see a flash of her thin, surprised face against the back of his eyelids; her bright-green eyes that peered out suspiciously from under the brim of her hat. When he looked down in the dark water, he could see her. She was a mage, amateur and young, still trying to master the materia in her staff, but she was likely a quick learner. She was fearful and untrusting, with deep pain buried inside but glinting in her eyes. When he pulled her to her feet, he felt strong muscles in her even for her body being built like a pixie, and he couldn't help but wonder where she had come from.

He had seen many lonely travelers in his days and rarely wondered their origin, but this one was different. This one had begun seeking out the Sleeping Forest six months ago, after Sephiroth was finally destroyed for the last time, and during that first month she had eyes only for him. He'd pretended not to take notice at her, but when her brilliant gaze continued to follow him, he was annoyed at her violation of his once-peaceful ventures into the Forest, and he chose a different path that she did not take.

When he saw her again, she was sitting down sharply in the clearing he frequented the most. His first instinct would have been to keep going, but he was concerned for the female traveler's wellfare. What he got for it was the typical response of fear, especially when she saw the color of his eyes. He'd gotten quite used to it and ignored people's reactions, but this time it had made him inwardly sigh in frustration when she walked away as quickly as she could without looking back.

Frustration. Just another emotion he didn't often feel since before he was revived in Hojo's laboratory. But it didn't matter. As much as the girl piqued his atrophied interests in females, there was no logical way he could be involved with another woman again. Not after Lucrecia. His Lucrecia. Not after he'd been made what he was, for who would ever want to be with something like that?

Just another punishment added on to the rest, he thought dully. I am a spirit wandering this Planet, trying to atone for these sins I've committed against it. If only then I could just lay down and pass from this world forever...

Breathing thin clouds of white vapor into the stilled air, Vincent leaned back on his hands and looked up into the empty tree boughs and shivering stars.

Maybe she will come this way again, he found himself thinking, then sat up straight and shook his head in disbelief. Did I really just think that? How odd. He looked back up at the stars again, and almost thankful that he didn't feel the old stirring in his blood that he used to feel whenever he thought of his Lucrecia. He couldn't, he just couldn't. Not while he was what he was: a monster, a vessel of demons and bearer of grotesque modifications.

The stars seemed to wink at him, but they were merely greeted by his cold frown.

 

[Serah]

I am sooooo glad you decided to post this!! You all must read this amazing fic!! She is truly a gifted and talented writer. This story will leave you laughing, will leave you in tears and leave you breathless

 

[Lady of Shadows]

-o-o-o- Two -o-o-o-
Unbidden




Mari was more than eager to get inside the house she had called home since the destruction of Midgar. Her gentle hostess, Lia, quickly unlocked the back door and let her into the kitchen, her smooth round face bright and pink with relief that the girl was home safe.

"You're back soon," the woman said, getting the tea kettle down from a cupboard and filling it with water. "You look worried, dear. Sit down and I'll make us some tea."

Mari wanted nothing more than to just go to bed and strip out of her clothes and just lay in bed, thinking things over, but she obeyed Lia's kind orders and plunked herself down at the oaken table. It had to be well after 2:00am, but she couldn't know for sure as there was no clock in the kitchen. She swept off her hat and unbuckled her cloak, letting both fall away and reveal long, wavy brown hair and small shoulders. She didn't bother to pick either item off of the glistening wood floor, but leaned back in her chair and raked her fingers through her chilled hair.

Lia got down two mugs, then turned to look at her charge. "Are you all right?" she asked concernedly. The girl had been so greatly distraught for so long, more so than anyone she knew that had survived the catastrophe. She thought Mari was slowly healing and returning to the happy, spirited girl she could see trapped inside, but these strange walks and travels would be the death of Lia Goodland some day...

Mari glanced up at Lia and offered an encouraging smile. "Yeah, I'm fine, I'm just tired," she said, and there was no lie in that. Why had her first meeting with the strange man Valentine shaken her so badly?

Lia pursed her lips and pushed her red braid over her shoulder. She was in her modest nightgown, and Mari felt a little guilty for waking her up by showing up before dawn. The girl often stayed out all night, not wanting to wake Lia up, but as there seemed to be no sleep in the woman's eyes, Mari felt that her hostess had stayed awake in waiting. That made her feel even guiltier.

"And you ought to be tired, traveling helter-skelter like you do!" Lia scolded, not unkindly as she moved over to Mari's chair and, in a motherly movement, brushed her hair out of her face and felt her forehead. She did that often, and it always painfully reminded Mari of her mother; this time was no different. "Forget the tea, you just go on to bed and get warm! Your forehead is so cold that I can't tell if you've caught a fever or not!"

Mari couldn't hold back a snicker at Lia's attention. "I don't have a fever, Mother Lia," she said, pushing out of her chair and looking into the woman's careworn grey eyes. "You know I take care of myself when I'm out there. Though not as well as when you take care of me when I'm within your reach, hmm?"

Despite her worry, Lia chuckled, light dancing in her eyes. "You've got that right, girl," she replied, playfully patting Mari's cold cheek. "I can't help but wonder about you sometimes."

Mari delivered a quick smacking kiss to her hostess's leathery cheek, and felt warm inside. "You can wonder about me all you like, Mother Lia," she replied with a grin, "but you're proud of me for traveling. Didn't you always used to travel back in the old days?"

Lia squawked in indignation, and Mari danced out of reach. "The old days!" the woman cried. "Why, what do you think I am? A little old lady?"

"Obviously," Mari smirked, and made a hasty retreat up the stairs as Lia came after her. "Goodnight, Mother Lia!"

Lia stood at the foot of the stairs, watching her charge's back hurry out of sight. She sighed, then chuckled and shook her head. "That girl," she said to herself, hurrying back into the kitchen as the teakettle began to furiously whistle. "Thank the gods she was allowed to live. She's the brightest part of my life."

In her little dark bedroom, Mari stripped naked and flung herself into her unmade bed. It felt so good to be out of her stifling clothing, for even though it was winter, the house was so well heated that she always woke up in the morning sweating if she had season-appropriate clothes on. But Lia never would turn the heating system down, because she feared drafts coming in and making the both of them ill. Ah, Lia, so good to her. They had gotten on almost immediately, and became so close that it seemed only natural for Mari to tack the endearment of 'Mother' onto the woman's given name.

Laying on top of the blankets, Mari closed her eyes to welcome the calm blackness of pre-sleep. But instead of utter blackness, she saw two glowing red eyes gazing cooly at her as though they could see into her soul.

Mari soon found herself returning to the Sleeping Forest, irresistably drawn there by her ache for peace and quiet and her flaming spirit of adventure that could only be quenched by a trip. To her, the Forest was better than any church, its glowing white trees serving as her walls and the deep blue-black sky above her sparkling ceil. She walked, unguided except by her senses and her staff, alone and content to be so. If there was still such a thing as content left on this tormented Planet.

There wasn't anything quite as good as being alone.

Lia didn't like the mage's trips, but neither had Mari's father, and Mari wasn't about to let someone hold her back again. She couldn't possibly live without traveling, having a change of pace, having those dreaded adventures that Montgomery Silverwing was always loathe to think of. Not that she had really had a lot of adventures, but she was skilled in her powers and she loved to see what was awaiting her around the corner or over the hill. Whether by train, by airship, by chocobo, by ship, or on foot, she loved to be able to go wherever she pleased without having to explain herself or have a care in the world.

Besides, the red-eyed man who kept stealing into the shadows of her dreams walked under the eaves of the Forest, and she wanted to see him again. Merely out of sheer curiousity, of course.

Mari quietly moved toward the clearing where the water flowed dark and gentle, little slivers of the inner light of the trees glimmering on its surface. At first she didn't see the figure crouched there, underneath a tree among thick moss, but when she did, she jerked behind a nearby tree as her hand glowed with the copious light of her usual thunder spell. Maybe there would be an adventure tonight.

She cautiously peered around the tree with the skill of a hunter, brilliant eyes focusing on and studying the figure. Well, if it wasn't the red-eyed Vincent Valentine, looking down in the water. He was half-naked, which made Mari's blood stir and her breath quicken in anticipation; she had never chosen to be bedded before, and the sight of the male physique never turned her on as much as it did now.

Gathering the courage to look more boldly, Mari let her eyes trail down the body that she had only seen well-hidden. Wasn't he cold? His pale upper body was cast with a pallid blue glow from the light around him, smooth taut skin stretching over rippling muscle, his right hand's elbow-length buckled glove removed and revealing a battle-scarred hand that was scooping up water and sweeping it over his flesh.

The mage recoiled as her unashamed gaze found his left shoulder and chest, the flesh of which looked like it had been boiled and blistered over; shiny and purple-pink, the flesh was raised in scaly bumps, with numerous pink scars showering his body like remnants of a switchblade attack. The affliction continued down his left arm to the golden gauntlet and down his toned abdomen, where his ribcage jutted out sharply as though it was too big for his frame. His spine was a long row of hard knobs, his upper back slightly humped and purple in color, and a precise dark line running down the vertebrae.

But the worst thing was the center of his chest. A small purple hole, ringed in light red, rested there like an old gunshot wound.

Undead? Mari shrank back as Vincent shifted to his black-clad knees, looking down at the water. His long ebon hair cascaded over his face and down his back like a waterfall. He rested his metallic hand on the soft moss as his normal hand cupped more water and trickled it between his shoulderblades. There was a strange, horrible beauty to his body, a beauty that slowly voided Mari's fear and increased her fascination.

The ample hand stilled in its repeated movement of gently washing Vincent's back, and he went slightly rigid. He must have heard me, Mari thought frantically, breaking out of her fascinated spying and quickly turning away. I'd better get out of here.

She silently walked back the way she'd come, seeking a different route to take through the Forest that would avoid him completely. She hoped he wouldn't discover her and be angry, but she had breached a moment of privacy. Who wouldn't be angry? He probably didn't want anyone seeing those horrible mutations on his body. What is he, anyway?

It was less than two minutes later when she heard a low swoosh behind her, and she had not the time to fling her staff around when a cold metal hand gripped her throat, slamming her back into a tree and pinning her there. Mari swallowed a scream, knowing it would do her no good, and looked up into the deadly glare of flaming crimson eyes.

Vincent's face looked much different than it had mere nights before; he now looked sinister, ready to kill with one swipe. She was suddenly so weak that she couldn't even summon magic from the materia permanately buried in her arms, couldn't even gather her thoughts enough to throw out the simplest of her spells. She remained transfixed, unmoving, trying not to wince from that explosive glare.

"Err...good evening?" she offered tepidly.

The metal hand around her throat tightened, careful not to choke her even in his silent anger. "What do you think you're doing, mage Silverwing?" he demanded, his voice like burned velvet. He opened his mouth again, but nothing else came out. He was fully dressed, his hair damp and wild-smelling around his shoulders. The air around them seemed to grow dark as though the trees' light could no longer hold the night back.

Mari began to stammer, which inwardly angered her for sounding so afraid. "I-Iwas just walking through the w-woods...I saw you a-and I turned away, I didn't want t-to interrupt--"

The hand slowly tightened even more, and Vincent brought his face close to hers. "It took you quite a while to turn away, mage," he growled; Mari shuddered. "Is your interest that morbid?"

"N-no," Mari began, but the strange man wasn't finished.

"Do I look inhuman to you? Do these mutilations frighten you?" he continued, his voice deepening in anger.

Mari knew all she could do was tell him the truth, whether he believed it or not. "No," she said softly, forcing herself to keep gazing into his hot eyes. No, the things on his body didn't frighten her, but he himself was quite fearful.

Vincent's drawn brows suddenly relaxed, the rest of his face following as though he was absolutely stunned. The almost-hurt fury slipped from his eyes as his hand did the same from Mari's throat. "Then why," he asked, his voice subdued, "were you staring at me?"

Mari felt herself blushing as she slowly moved away from him, her eyes now on the ground. "I couldn't help it," she murmured. "You...you're...attractive."

Seeming to stun him further, the mage took it as her opportunity to slip away. "Good night, Mister Valentine." And she strode away to finish her walk, doing everything in her power to not look over her shoulder at him as he watched her leave. But she did anyway, and a bright streak of embarrassed pink had washed over his cheeks, hued lavender in the eerie light.

Dead men don't blush, she thought, and neither of them saw the strange, horselike form disappear into the shadows.

 

[Lady of Shadows]

-o-o-o- Three -o-o-o-
Reminders




Edge did not appeal to Mari, and it hadn't since it was created. She hated even thinking about the place, because it had been built as almost a memorial to Midgar and that was where she lost her family. And it had been so much more beautiful, so much happier and peaceful, before Meteorfall. She obliged Lia by going on errands there for her, but Mari didn't enjoy it and dreaded feeling the cold memories gripping her like skeletons' fingers. She'd have rather gone to Kalm Town on her errands any day.

The people there made the most of it and went on about their lives as they always had, and Mari tried to blend in with them as much as she could whenever she was there against her will. An overhanging sense of sadness kept weighing on the people's cheerfulness; it was enough to drive her mad. She didn't like it, and she didn't like that it didn't make her feel any better inside, but instead made her feel like a small but potent weight was sitting in the bottom of her stomach.

Mari preferred to travel further, especially to Gongaga, which had more interesting shops and less gloom. She was never satisfied until her legs stopped carrying her on their own accord, especially if it was as far away from Midgar's ruins as she could manage, though she had been that way long before her family was killed. Her soul longed for change, for new sights and sounds; a trait she had inherited from her mother. Rhia had dreamed of travel and never settling down, up until she met sensible Montgomery Silverwing, who didn't have a fire built underneath him and was perfectly happy staying in one place.

Not fun, Mari now thought with a frown, rebellious even still. She wished her mother could have traveled and had adventures like she'd always yearned to, and she darkly vowed to herself that she would do her mother's memory proud. Montgomery had never wanted Mari to travel alone, and even when she had a companion or two, it still could not be far or for long. That didn't ease Mari's insatiable itch, and it led to fiery arguments between the two. The no-nonsense, practical Montgomery, thick mustache twitching in anger and green eyes flashing at the spirited girl's meanderings. It was a sight that Mari actually missed.

She missed everything, even the fights and the hard times. At least she still had her family during those times, which had been better than they were now when they were nothing but fading memories.

Drawing the collar of her cloak closer around her mouth and nose, Mari unheedingly splashed through muddy puddles and dirtied the freshly-fallen snow that lay in miniature drifts everywhere. She didn't carry her staff today, because she didn't want to draw attention to herself. Attention, she thought, was the last thing she needed. It was fine to her that many people thought her to be an aloof, slim boy with dull forest-green eyes under the brim of that hat on those days that she wore pants and clunky boots, for it didn't matter to her. She didn't want to be acquainted with anyone, and she didn't want to get close to anyone. She had closed her heart to that with an iron gate two years before when her family and friends were taken from her; she never intended on opening it or her mind again.

It was bad enough she had left herself so vulnerable while watching Vincent Valentine bathing, his own self vulnerable to her prying, all kinds of thoughts racing through her. Never again.

She looked down and kicked a frosty stone with the toe of her mudstained boot. What a gloomy place. I feel grey here. Eager to kill off those thoughts and finish her errand sooner, she started walking faster. Nobody looked at her, and she looked at nobody. That was how she wanted it to be. Don't make friends, don't give your heart to anyone, and you won't ever get hurt again.

It was almost a mantra to her. Nodding slightly at how good that sounded to her, she reached back and unpinned her long hair, letting it spill out in red-tinted waves over her shoulders to catch on the bitter breeze and keep the back of her neck warm. "Antisocial," Lia often called her. "These outings amongst people will do you good. You can't become a hermit." Almost twenty-three years old, and Mari was still being ordered around as though by her father. She almost let out a broken laugh at the very thought, but silenced herself before it escaped. A small lump rose in her throat.

Her hands tightened in her leather gloves when she heard the sudden, tinkling sound of children's laughter. Bursts of memory punched her behind her eyelids, scenes of Kaiya and Kin running around the bar playing tag while Montgomery and Ran tried to clean it up after closing. No. Don't think. Don't remember.

Mari kept her eyes on the ground. Splotches of white and grey and brown passed abstractly beneath her, and as the laughter drew nearer, she began to skirt around it. She steeled herself, muscles coiling back like metal springs as though she was preparing her entire body to be struck.

"Hey!"

Female giggling dissolved the exclamation, but Mari ignored it. She was passing the children, and she heard their pattering footsteps thump back and forth behind her in play. A small explosion of laughter again, and then something soft and cold hit Mari right between the shoulderblades.

She froze, irate, and heard a gasp and a softly uttered rebuke. Mari forced herself to turn around, and there stood two children, a boy and a girl around the age of nine, sheepishly looking up at her.

"I'm sorry," the boy said, twisting his mouth up as his blue eyes gave her an honest look of worry from under his thatch of dirty-blonde hair. "I meant to hit Marlene with that snowball. That's my friend here." He motioned toward his obsidian-haired companion. "She moved too fast and so I accidentally hit you."

The girl narrowed her eyes, which were as dark as her hair, and glared at the boy. "Don't blame it on me!" she huffed.

Mari nodded in understanding. "Don't worry about it, it was just snow," she said, and turned away, trying to leave them behind her as quickly as possible.

"Hey...don't go!" the young girl cried, running after her. This just isn't going to be my day, is it? Mari thought with a sigh, casting a helpless look to the low grey heavens. She turned again as the girl caught up to her, a bright smile beaming on her flushed face.

"I thought you were a boy for a minute," she said with a giggle. "But you're not. I don't think I've seen you here before. My name's Marlene and that weird boy back there is Denzel. We live together in Tifa and Cloud's house. Well, I'm only there while my dad is on his journeys. Who are you?"

Trying to take in the girl's fast-paced talk, Mari forced herself to oblige the girl for a minute or two. After all, she despised being rude to anyone. "I'm Mari. I actually used to live in Midgar, before the Meteor came." Surprise laced her voice. "And do you mean Tifa Lockhart, the owner of the Seventh Heaven bar?" That bar had been in close competition with the Silverwings' bar, and Mari's father had never accepted the fact that a young girl could run a bar just as well--if not better--than he could. Mari had learned of Tifa's return and the rebuilding of Seventh Heaven, but she hadn't been there as though to preserve her close-minded father's memory.

There was no doubt that the girl Marlene was quite proud to confirm Mari's question. "Yep! She and Cloud are my friends and they take care of me and Denzel like we were their own kids." She twirled once on the toes of her white boot. "Denzel's an orphan. He's pretty cool, but he can be really annoying."

Despite herself, Mari slowly crouched down in the snow, offering a conspirator's grin. "You know, I used to have a sister who would be about your age right now. I had three brothers, too, so I know how annoying boys can be."

"HA!" Marlene crowed, and pointed back at the boy. "Even she thinks boys are annoying, Denzel!" She turned back to face Mari again, and despite the grey gloom all around, this girl was like a breath of high summer. "Had?" she asked. "What happened to them?" When Mari only gazed at her, the girl's face fell. "Oh. I'm really sorry."

The boy strode over now, no longer worried that Mari was angry with him, and stood beside his companion. "They died?" he asked with a frown. "In the Meteorfall, or from geostigma?"

"Denzel!" Marlene rebuked, and Mari realized that was what she had heard when the snowball had hit her. "Ugh, you need some manners." Disgusted, she crossed her arms over her chest. The action reminded Mari so blatantly of firey little Kaiya that she felt the iron gate around her heart being bashed to pieces. "Don't mind him, Mari."

Mari chuckled softly and winked at Denzel, though his question had stirred up even more memories that made her just want to cry. "Okay, you guys," she said as cheerfully as she could manage, and stood up. Suddenly she wasn't as begrudging of her errand as she had been. "It was great to meet you both, but I'm on a mission and I really must get going."

Both children's eyes went wide and they exchanged identical, open-mouth glances. "A mission?" Denzel whispered in awe.

Mari tipped her hat. "Yes, to find the finest winter-growing herb on the continent. I need it fast, too! Do either of you know where I can find it?" She knew exactly where it could be bought in Edge, but she decided to humor the children a little more.

Marlene giggled, and Denzel scoffed. "Oh, they need to send you on harder missions. Those herbs can be found in Metra's shop, which is right down the street!" He pointed down the road in earnest.

Mari nodded gravely, her eyes following the direction his finger was pointing in. "You're a wise one, Denzel," she said, and lowered her hat over her forehead again. "Thank you! Now, I'll be on my way." With an exaggerated saunter, she took off.

Marlene galloped sideways to keep in stride with Mari as she walked with long steps down the snow-scattered street. "When will you come this way again?" she asked hopefully. "You're really nice, and not like normal strangers at all. You'd like Tifa, and Tifa would like you."

The young woman didn't pause, but looked down at Marlene and managed another grin--this time, it didn't seem so hard to do. If only they knew the things her father would curse whenever Tifa's bar received more customers..."I'm sure we would like each other, and I can come this way again tomorrow if you and Denzel will be here. I'm not normal, period, miss Marlene." With a wave, she walked on, leaving the girl standing back with her own grin.

Denzel ran up to her, put out that he was left behind again. "Marlene, she's a mage, I just know it!" he said quietly, hardly able to contain his excitement. "I've never seen one before, at least I don't think so! Come on, we've gotta tell Cloud and Tifa! They'll love this!" Whooping, he grabbed Marlene's hand and they disappeared down the street in the opposite direction that Mari had gone, and didn't even notice the shadow of a friend of theirs watching from nearby.

-o-o-o-

Children. So full of life and carefreeness no matter what bad happened to them. Marlene and Denzel were the picture of survival and hope.

Vincent moved out of the shadows between two buildings and continued on his way through Edge. So, it was that strange woman yet again. Mari Silverwing, sans the white staff with its azure orb. The two children, normally wary of strangers, were immediately drawn to her, just as he had been. What was it about this Mari woman that was so intriguing? Was it the fact that the air around her practically screamed that she held power, or was it that she seemed concerned about keeping herself hidden and away from everyone? Vincent could emphasize with both.

He pulled his razor-thin cellphone out and flipped it open. When he calculated there had been enough time to allow the children to reach the house, he called Tifa's phone to ask if they had gotten in safely. Tifa seemed gently amused by his concern and told him they were just fine, and would he like to drop in for a few minutes? Vincent politely declined, and though he didn't say it, he was still not one for socializing, even with his friends.

And neither was this Mari. How many times was he going to see her and wonder about her? There was something about her that deeply interested him, even though she had spied on a private moment of his. He was curious, and he suddenly decided to pay a brief visit to Tifa and Cloud after all.

 

[Lady of Shadows]

-o-o-o- Four -o-o-o-
Sacred Flowers





Tifa and Cloud mused that there were mages scattered here and there on the continent, and the existance of one in Edge was really no big surprise. Tifa recalled that there had been only one trainer who had settled there before the crisis, and that was old Sheena, who had been quite a powerful mage, but couldn't prevent her own death when Meteor finally hit.

Vincent sat in the bar's kitchen, idly sipping scalding black tea, as Denzel eagerly told them about the young mage in hopes that he could help solve whatever great puzzle the boy thought was being pieced together. Marlene was jabbering on about the woman and how much they liked each other, and that Mari said she would definitely see she and Denzel again. "She knew who you were, Tifa," the girl said happily, then pulled a starry-eyed sort of awed expression. "She was like, 'Tifa? Tifa Lockhart, owner of the Seventh Heaven bar?' and I said yes!"

Cloud, leaning back with his elbows on the kitchen counter, smirked and poked Tifa in the ribs. "You're popular."

Tifa grinned and rolled her dark eyes at him. "Well, just be careful around anybody you don't know well," she said seriously, eyeing Marlene and then Denzel. "Anybody can say who they are and they might not really be."

"If it helps any, she is is most definitely a mage," Vincent said, picking up his mug of tea again. "I ran across her walking around the Sleeping Forest." He intentionally left out the night of Mari coming upon him during his bathing. "She carried a white staff, but she is not that experienced, for she would have reacted more than just sprawling backwards in fear."

Denzel chuckled. "That's because you're just scary as hell," he replied, then uttered a subdued "OW!" as Tifa's hand cuffed him on the back of the head. Vincent smirked behind the rim of the mug.

"Her name is Mari Silverwing," the boy said, ruefully rubbing the back of his head.

Tifa stared at him. "It can't be...can it?" She suddenly let out an abrupt laugh. "If it's Monty's daughter, I'm going to have a heart attack."

The children eyed her curiously. "Who?"

"Montgomery Silverwing, owner of the Cloud Nine bar and inn," Tifa replied, shaking her head in disbelief. "He was always so jealous that Seventh Heaven got more people, but what can I say? The service has always been better here. He and his family were the only Silverwings left, as far as I know, but I thought they all died in the Meteorfall."

"Well, she did say her brothers and sister were killed," Denzel mused, "but Marlene wouldn't let me ask how they died."

"And she wears a red cloak almost just like yours!" Marlene said, ignoring the boy and throwing her thin arms around Vincent's neck and almost upsetting his tea. "Isn't that weird? I even thought she was a boy at first until I had a better look at her eyes and her hair." Just as quickly as she had latched on, the girl let go and stood beside Vincent, putting her hands on her hips. "She even said boys are annoying, so there!"

Tifa let out a musical laugh, and Cloud grinned and pushed himself away from the counters. "Is that so?" he said, mock-dangerously. "And do you agree with this red mage?"

"Of course I do!" Marlene retorted, sticking her pink tongue out at him.

Cloud grinned, his blue eyes narrowed playfully. "Well, Marlene, I'll show you just how annoying we boys can be! Hold her, Vincent!"

"Hm. Big mistake, Marlene," Vincent remarked, grabbing the girl by the elbows before she could dart away. Sitting quite still, he held her in place as Cloud mercilessly tickled her. The large kitchen was filled with her laughter, and Cloud couldn't help himself from joining in. Denzel pounced on Cloud, pounding his back with his fists.

"Hey, I think she deserves it, but you aren't playing fair!" he exclaimed. "Two men against one girl!"

"He has a point," Vincent said, and let go of Marlene. Shrieking, she sprinted out through the closed bar, with Cloud close behind her. Denzel raced after them, and even Tifa met Cloud in a flying tackle. The four of them rolled around in a laughing tangle, and Vincent looked on while slightly shaking his head at their antics.

One can tell the world is healing when Cloud Strife laughs, he thought.

-o-o-o-

Socializing with children hadn't been too bad. It hadn't been extraordinarily painful, and it hadn't taken all her energy from her. She actually liked it. Mari quickly ate lunch, wondering if it would be even easier to speak with the two fascinating children this time. Lia watched her from the other side of the table, one thin grey brow arched, and considered her until Mari got up and placed her bowl in the dishwasher.

"What's gotten into you?" Lia asked, pivoting in her chair to look at her. "Going on another one of your trips? Why didn't you tell me? I swear..." Her eyes were as accusatory as her voice as Mari hastily donned her cloak.

"No, Mother Lia," Mari assured her, with the smallest bite sharpening her words. "I'm just going into Edge for a while. After all, you said it would be good for me." She shrugged and started out the back door.

"Yeah, but since when have you ever listened to me about that?" Lia remarked, but Mari had clapped her crimson hat on and answered by softly clicking the door shut behind her. Lia shook her head and sighed, folding her hands on the table. Gods know if I'll ever figure that girl out, she thought.

The weather was the same as before, cloudy with weak snowflakes drifting reluctantly down. Mari ignored it and quickly walked through Edge, not liking the fact that she didn't have her light staff with her yet again, even though she held materia power in her flesh. The snow began to quicken as she quickened her steps, and an icy blast of air made her eyes tear up. She stepped through a mud puddle and splashed it all the way up her pants leg, the wetness seeping through and shocking the skin underneath. She hoped the two kids would be out like they'd been the day before, or she was going to be pissed.

She took the same path as she took before, as though heading back to Metra's herb shop. Her keen eyes, peering between her hat and cloak collar, kept a sharp lookout for the mischeivous-looking boy and the summer-faced girl among the dozens of people filtering in and out doors and walking by on their business. At last, she discovered Marlene and Denzel playing a spirited game of tag around the herb shop itself, until Metra, the wizened shop owner, barreled out and shouted warnings at the pair.

Denzel skulked away, but Marlene tossed her nose into the air when she followed him. Mari approached them, and said with sudden amusement: "I wouldn't become enemies with Metra if I were you. He's been known to hang kids by their toes from the ceiling and flog them."

The children stopped together, and their respective guilty and haughty looks melted from them when they saw the mage. "Mari!" Marlene cried. "You came back, like you said!"

"Of course I did," Mari replied, sweeping her hat off her head and bowing. "When Mari Silverwing says she's going to do something, then she does it!"

Denzel grinned and nudged Marlene in the ribs. "Oh!" the girl said, remembering something. "We wanted to show you the old church where flowers grow all year round, even in winter! It's in Midgar!"

"They're awesome," Denzel said. "Have you ever been in the church?"

Mari unknowingly smiled, remembering the huge, beautiful cathedral with its towering spires and magnificent stained-glass windows. A girl had grown sweet yellow and white lilies there and had sold them for only one gil each, wandering around the Sector 5 slums with a cheerful smile always on her face. Mari visited her often, seeking advice and solace from her whenever there was trouble at home, and had bought flowers from her once before to take to Rhia when she was ill. Montgomery would have killed Mari if he'd had any idea that she was walking about the slums. What was the girl's name again? She had been so sweet and friendly, like a spring breeze even on the darkest and coldest of days. Aerith Gainsborough, that's who she was. These memories are fading so fast...it's my own doing that they are...

"I have indeed been there," she replied. "A long time ago. The flowers are still growing, huh?" When the children nodded their heads, Mari gazed past them, remembering. "Is Aerith still around?"

Denzel opened his mouth but didn't speak, and it appeared that he didn't know who Aerith was. But Marlene gasped. "You knew Aerith? I barely remember her!" she said in awe, then her shoulders drooped. "He killed her. She went into the Lifestream, but her spirit helped to defeat him."

A small warning stabbed at Mari's heart before she quickly put up the iron gate again; she hated it when she was caught unawares. "Who killed her?" she asked, though she already knew. Who else could kill such an innocent, beautiful creature?

"Sephiroth," Marlene sighed. "And now her flowers grow all year round, and Tifa says they're sacred. Cloud was in love with Aerith, and Cloud couldn't save her. He blamed himself for it for two whole years, but he's a lot better now."

"Oh." Mari sighed as well, though she was numb against the pain the thought of romantic tragedy brought her. The two children urged her to follow them, and she had to practically run to keep up as they raced through the barren landscape into the ruins of Midgar. She hated being there, she hated the horrible clenching of her heart and pain that was so great that it made her stomach sick. They finally came to the old greyed church, and Mari sucked in a breath when she saw how damaged it was. It looked like someone had dropped a bomb through it, and the memories of the pain and terror breathed their presence inside her head. She shook them away and removed her hat as Marlene and Denzel slowed their pace, quietly walking into the open maw that was the front doors.

Everything was silent here, the air thick and charged with a gentle energy. Many of the beautiful stained glass was still intact, and the smoothly-polished pews whispered countless memories of happy and solemn services from years past. The gaping hole in the ceiling let the dim light beam in, dust particles dancing with the snowflakes, and the light touched upon a circular plot of strong lillies growing where the altar used to be. The floor was soggy and smelled musty, as though it had been flooded; there was a small stream of shimmering water running around the flowers. But it wasn't ordinary water, it was Lifestream water. The power inside Mari strengthened and began to flourish within the sacred energy around her, and it was so good to feel it. She felt like dropping to her knees in reverence, both to the higher powers and to Aerith's precious spirit, but she remained standing.

"I love it here," Marlene said, after taking a long breath. "But see? The flowers still grow in the memory of Aerith. Snow's coming in, but they just don't die. I don't think they ever will. You pick one, and two grow back in its place. And that water is the Lifestream. Aerith's spirit flooded this place with it one time and it's still here, kinda, in the Lifestream water. It healed Denzel's geostigma and everyone else's, too."

"I see." Mari walked closer to the flowers, and their sweet scent overpowered her with a heady kind of warmth. She could almost see Aerith quietly bending there, checking carefully for weeds and speaking a kind word or two to the vulnerable blooms.

"Mari?" Denzel hesitantly sat down on a pew. "Are you a mage?"

The woman broke out of the magic before her, and looked over at the curious boy. She held out her gloved hand, and a lavender ball of light appeared in her palm. With just a breath, a miniature unicorn formed from the light and galloped in place, tendrils of sunny yellow drifting around it and from the wake of its cloven hooves.

"Yes, I'm a mage," Mari said with a small smile, releasing the unicorn into the air. It lunged upward, forelegs tucked neatly at its chest, then leaped down and landed on Denzel's head. He gasped and ducked as the unicorn dissolved into a purple mist and disappeared, but he suddenly sat straight up with a surprised gleam in his eyes.

"How'd you know I have a cold?" he asked quietly.

"'Had' is a better word for it, Denzel. I'm trained to know when someone's sick," Mari replied, lowering her hand. "I am a mage, after all. I can heal much and I can absorb the powers of the elements to help others."

Sudden, soft footsteps alerted Mari, and she whirled to the lillies, half-expecting Aerith's spirit to have appeared there. Instead, there was a tall woman wearing black, with silky brown hair and dark eyes. She looked warily at Mari, then at the children.

"Tifa!" Denzel shouted, leaping to his feet and running to her. "It's Mari, the mage! You know how I had that bad cold coming on? She healed me!"

Marlene hopped up and down on the spot before running to the other woman as well. "And he forgot to say 'thank you', too!" she declared.

Denzel scowled at her, then looked back at Mari with a grin. "Thanks!"

Mari chuckled. "No problem at all, Denzel."

Her fighter's body relaxing a little, Tifa walked toward Mari and greeted her. "So you're Mari Silverwing? Old Monty's daughter?" she asked with a friendly laugh. "Nice to meet you. The kids have been going on and on about you. I'm Tifa Lockhart."

 

[Lady of Shadows]

-o-o-o- Five -o-o-o-
Shadowmongers




After Mari Silverwing departed from the old church, under shafts of silver light that snowflakes dotted, Tifa was left with a sense of intrigue and warmth. There seemed little reason to be suspicious of the girl, and she seemed to have a strange hint of Aerith's gentle personality and the stoutness of old Monty. Sure, Silverwing was more than likely dangerous when provoked, just like her father, and her skills could be seen in more than her showy curing of Denzel's cold, but she wasn't hardened or cold in anything but the depths of her heart.

It was when Denzel had told her that Mari's siblings had been killed that Tifa understood. The girl had lost her family and she was aloof, careful not to feel that kind of pain again and to keep what had happened inside of her. She herself had felt that and so had Marlene, and Tifa knew someone else who did as well.

Vincent Valentine.

Wouldn't they make an interesting pair? Tifa thought with a silent laugh. It's time for him to start feeling again, anyway. Far past time. A mage and a gunman...it's so romantic!

-o-o-o-

"Thank you, Mari."

Lia tossed the soiled bandage in the garbage can and examined her hand. She had accidentally dropped a glass while doing the morning dishes, and had cut herself when she was trying to pick it up barehanded; if Lia was anything, she was slightly scatterbrained despite all her proporting to be sensible and wise. Mari had just returned from a quick journey to Gongaga, a whole week after meeting Tifa Lockhart, and she immediately healed the woman's hand before even having the chance to take off her hat.

Mari eyed Lia. "No problem. Next time, use the broom and dustpan."

Lia smirked, still looking at her hand which showed only a faint white scar that would fade completely within a few hours. "I'll remember that, smartass," she replied fondly. She put her hand down and smiled up at the girl. "How was your little walk?"

Mari snorted at the older woman's amused sarcasm. "It was fine," she said, sweeping off her hat and cloak and hanging them up by the back door. "But there is a new creature terrorizing Gaia."

Her interest aroused at once, Lia turned in her chair, both armfuls of gaudy golden bracelets jangling. "Oh really? What kind of creature? Tell me now." Her eyes glittered, but Mari was too deep in thought to be amused by the woman's hunger for gossip.

Sighing quietly, she sat down carefully at the table across from Lia. "It's not good news at all, Mother Lia," she said, folding her hands in her lap and looking down at them. "I heard it throughout the entire place. There's a strange kind of creature cropping up and attacking people. These creatures can't really be described except that they're dark and hulking, and not quite solid. They attack without warning, one per person, and sucks the entire soul out."

Lia blinked. "Are you sure you heard right? Where are they from?"

A flash; Mari being jumped at, fending off and killing the shadowy beast, so numb and hard that she didn't even have to think her spell. The creature shrieked and dissolved into fathomless black tendrils in the air, which blew away on the breeze. A human cry, and she looked over her shoulder to see a young man's soul being sucked away by another Shadowmonger. She couldn't help him, for by the time she killed the monster, the man was already dead. And no powers of her rank could bring back the dead. And just hours earlier, she'd been taking a swig with two other traveling mages in her favorite tavern, and listening to the portly bartender hushedly warn them about the monsters, and barely an hour after that she was being handed a bagful of gil for killing the two beasts.

"I don't know where they're from," she replied. "They're created by something, by someone. I've seen beasts and I've killed beasts, and as unnatural as some have been, these Shadowmongers are nothing like anything I've run across before. It's like they're someone's spell, or someone's evil dream. But I know I heard right. I was almost taken by one, and I saw someone else be killed by one. They're terrible beasts, their eyes are like the sun and can freeze you in an instant if you look into them. I'm lucky I learned that before I ran across one. If they're in Gongaga, they might come here. I mean, why wouldn't they?"

The words hung in the air like lead. Lia was frowning, her normally bright countenance veiled. "I don't want you taking any more of these trips, Mari," she said quietly.

Irate, Mari jumped right to her feet, nearly knocking her chair over. "Are you kidding me?" she cried, her eyes snapping like green fire. "I took care of the one attacking me, didn't I, with nary a scratch? I'm a fucking mage, and I can damn well take care of myself. I'm not afraid. They'd probably show up in Kalm and Junon before they showed up here, anyway." She grabbed her staff and stomped its rough end on the floor to emphasize her words.

"Don't speak to me in that tone of voice." Lia carefully kept her eyes on the table, knowing full well not to anger a young mage who was hardly ever in control of her emotions. "Do you seriously want to give me a heart attack from worrying about you? Even the best of them get killed in horrible ways out there, Mari. It's a frightening and dangerous world." She didn't want to remember all those times when she sat up at night, feeling her stomach flop over and over like a doomed fish, wondering if the girl was alive or not. Always losing her phone, forgetting to call where she could...

Mari tossed her head, her riot of waves shimmering in the overhead light and casting her fair face in a proud, sharp cut. "I'm not going to spend my life hiding from the world and fearing it," she said, her tone subdued now. "It's more dangerous to stay too long in one place than it is to keep moving. I know how to cast, I know how to kill when need be, and I know how to heal myself and others. I still have a good deal to learn, but there is no trainer around here anymore, so I'll do my best until I find one elsewhere. That's all you can do in this life, Mother Lia."

Lia looked up now, every word still leaden upon the air and upon her heart. "As you know, Mari, I lost my husband and two children in the crisis. I can't bear to lose you too. You're a daughter to me. You must not take these journeys anymore. I'm sorry, but that's the way it's going to be." She stood up, suddenly feeling twenty years older than she was, and went to the sink to shut the curtains. She was actually afraid one of those creatures might be outside.

A thin growl rose in Mari's throat, her every fiber recoiling. "I won't be held back," she said in a voice hardly more than a whisper.

Lia slapped her hands on the sink in frustration, her bracelets clashing together and her lips tight. "Stop acting like a child and realize what's best for you, Mari," she snapped, facing the rigid girl. "You live under my roof, and you'll listen to me!"

Going as numb as when the Shadowmonger leaped at her, Mari set her jaw. "I may listen, but I won't obey. I'm an adult, and I don't have to stay here."

The older woman's eyes positively popped out of her skull. "Excuse me?" she cried. "Good gods, you're so damn stubborn! Just like your father! Can't you listen to any amount of reason without flying off the handle? This is for your own good! But you've always been like this, haven't you? You stormed out of your home after fighting with your younger brother, because he'd repeatedly told you to stop practicing with your powers inside the house because it scared him! You'll do whatever you can do defy people and then leave so you can have your way when it doesn't work!"

Genuine anger was building like a wildfire in Mari, and she knew she wouldn't be able to control it for much longer. It felt as though the walls were growing hot and closing in on her, crushing her. "I know what's best for me," she growled, thumping her chest with the palm of her hand. "I always have, and I always will, and I'm not going to obey foolishness."

"You're the foolish one," Lia bit back. "You may be twenty two years old, but you have the brains of a headstrong toddler. That's all you act like and if you keep it up, that's how you'll always be. I can't imagine how your parents could stand dealing with you. They should have sent you away to learn some respect since they didn't bother to pound it into your head at all--" She stopped herself, abhorred, but she already knew it was too late.

Mari cocked an eyebrow, and quickly swiped her hat and cloak from their hooks. "That so, Lia? Then you fight off the monsters on your own. I won't be here to help anymore." She was out the back door before Lia could make a sound, and it was a few minutes later when the older woman reacted by slumping down in her chair and crying into her hands.

Stabbing the ground with her staff at every step, Mari muttered oaths to herself as she strode through the waning lavender-blue light to Midgar. Her blood was still thrilling from her journey, and she was hardly tired. She had the money from killing the Gongaga beasts in a little leather bag strapped to her belt; it jingled pleasantly and she figured she would spend the night where she could, grab some provisions, and head out to wherever it was she was to go. She was incensed that Lia dare bring her deceased family into the situation. She could never forgive her for that. Lia knew nothing. Nothing.

The sky was edged with dull purple clouds on the bare cliffs beyond Midgar, with a few twinkling stars awakening and a forlorn breeze kicking up. Mari was perfectly alone, surrounded by nothing but the solemn ruins around her, and she was fully enjoying it in her heat. I will never go back there. From now on, it's me I depend on, not anybody else. I should have never accepted her offer to live with her. Stupid, stupid...I hate people. All they do is hurt me.

She quickly came to the church where Aerith's yellow and white lilies still bloomed. It appeared much different in the dark than in daytime, and it looked foreboding. Mari refused to care. She stomped right up into the ruined building, flopped down on a darkly shadowed pew, and continued to mutter a clatter of oaths as fast as she could draw a breath. Damn it. I might as well sleep here and figure out where to go in the morning. Maybe Aerith's spirit will guide me...like she did when she was alive. I'll never stop going. I'll live for myself, like I'm meant to.

But when dull violet-grey morning came and Mari's anger had faded, she realized with guilt that she at least needed to go back and amend things with Lia before she headed out for good. She was honestly grateful for Lia taking her in when Mari had been too distraught to possibly survive on her own, and she wanted to make sure the older woman knew that.

Maybe it was the church that had cooled her anger; she couldn't be sure. There was definitely something beautifully peaceful about it. She stretched her stiff muscles by switching from a brisk walk to small sprints and back again, warming her extremities while thinking about Lia being all alone and worried again. Mari wasn't even paying attention when she ran straight into a man.

"Gah!" Stumbling back, Mari quickly composed herself and straightened her hat. "I'm so sorry, I wasn't paying attention." She looked up at the man, who wasn't that much taller than herself. He had thoughtful blue eyes and spiked blonde hair, and sheathed across his back was a gargantuan sword.

"Hey, it's no problem," the man said. "Are you all right?"

Mari nodded and leaned on her staff. "Yes, and you?"

"Just fine here." He held out a black-gloved hand to her, which she shook. "I'm Cloud...Cloud Strife. You must be Mari Silverwing, friend of Marlene and Denzel." A little appreciative humor glinted in his voice and a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Mari was so surpised that she momentarily forgot where she was heading and why. "I'm indeed she," she replied once she was able to. "So, they've told you all about me, huh?"

"Yep...they and Tifa, of course," Cloud said, letting go of Mari's hand. "It's nice to meet someone around here who doesn't keep to herself and dress all in grey. And who's specifically trained in magic. And," he added, "who has perked the general interest of the resident undead."

Mari's other hand tightened on the well-worn handhold of her staff and began walking, Cloud at her side. "The what?" she asked, feeling the old surge of power tingle through her body in anticipation.

Cloud grinned. "You've seen Vincent Valentine, and even met him," he said. "He's shown interest in you to us, for he's a friend of ours." They were companionably walking through the ruins back toward Edge, as though they had known each other for a long time.

"Ah. Small world. I didn't know he lived in Edge too." They walked on until they reached the huge sword stuck into the ground, and Edge was in plain sight. Not trying to seem rude, Mari glanced over Cloud's muscular shoulder as though to hint that she needed to get going. "I've got to hurry, so if you'll excuse me, Cloud, I don't want to keep you from anything."

The man laid a hand on Mari's arm as she tepidly moved past him, her eyes only for the southern horizon. "Tifa would like to know if you'd come over one day for--" He cut himself off, seeing the girl's eyes suddenly widden in horror.

"Look," she whispered, pointing to a distant black smudge ever rising to the south of Edge. "Something's on fire...I hope it's not my house." But somehow, some way, she knew that it was.

 

[Lady of Shadows]

-o-o-o- Six -o-o-o-
Another Loss



Vincent instinctively put his good hand to his three-barrel gun, Cerberus, when he heard the desperate cries of a woman on the next street over. Tightening his muscles like metal coils, he sprang into the air and touched down on the blasted roof of a house, then he leaped off again with his tattered cloak swirling behind him like wings. He smoothly hit the ground on the other side just in time to see Cloud Strife and the red mage take off on Cloud's streamlined motorcycle, Fenrir.

What in hell? he thought, his eyes following Fenrir as its dark shape quickly disappeared from view. Then he saw it; over the grey rooftops, a boiling cloud of smoke rose into the morning air, staining the sky red-brown.

Nobody seemed to see the dead-white hind legs and endless purple tail disappear into alleyway shadows, where several hulking shapes took form and followed it into the darkness.

-o-o-o-

Mari couldn't breathe. Something hard and sharp was pushing into her throat, choking the life out of her. Her heart was slamming into her ribs, and with every strangled breath, she saw red dots. She clung tightly to Cloud as he lowered himself over his huge black motorcycle and hoped to the gods that it wasn't her house that was on fire. Not that she would be glad anyone else's residence was on fire, but just as long as it wasn't hers. She had not said goodbye to Lia, just like with her family and friends...

"Please go faster, Cloud! I can put the fire out," she said urgently. "I hope I'm not too late--" Her voice caught on a snag in her breath. Please no, please no, please no, she repeated to herself, her mind wiped blank white. Not her too. I'm so sorry, Lia...please don't leave me...I'm sorry...

Fenrir suddenly swerved, jerking Mari sideways, and jerked to a stop. She dared look up as the terrible stench of acrid smoke filled her nose and stung her eyes, and the house that she had called home for the past three years was engulfed by brilliant orange flames. Pedestrians watched, morbidly interested, and Mari wanted to scream at them to either help or go away. But there was no time.

She let go of Cloud's coat and stumbled away, unable to hold up her weight. "Mother Lia!" she screamed over the roar of the flames. Summoning all the energy within her, she brandished her staff and pointed it at the house, but only a wavering shield of blue appeared around the crystal. "No!" she shouted desperately, squinting her eyes against the harsh brightness of the flames silhouetting the house against them. She clenched her teeth and summoned again, but her mind was no longer functioning and open to her powers.

Mari threw down her staff and threw her hand in front of her with green materia in place, directing the water energy into her receptive palm. She felt a cool tingle, but nothing happened. Her mind whirled and her stomach lurched, but she couldn't perform her spells. She was panicked and there was no way she could calm herself enough to perform them; she knew it, and it frightened her even more. She couldn't fail herself, Sheena, or most of all Lia...I need Typhoon materia! Maybe Cloud has it!

Cloud was calling her name, but she barely heard him. She forgot about the materia. She was moving in a leaden haze, her feet picking up and carrying her to the house. The air scorched her and burned her eyes, making them tear up. Flaming pieces of roofing fell all around her as her vision was filled with nothing but fire, golden and orange, that laughed and cackled at her. Both hands were in front of her now, frantically trying to summon the bright blue orbs of water that would drench the house, and she began to feel them blistering and burning as she ran straight through the open front door.

Something swooped in from behind her and jerked her backwards by the cloak, strangling her as she was thrown several yards back. "Lia!" Mari choked, struggling to her feet and blindly running for the door again. "Hold on, I'm coming!"

A cold jet hit her. She hit the ground rolling, the breath knocked out of her. Shouting words even she didn't understand, she scrambled upright, only to find her legs wouldn't support her at all anymore. She landed on her back in the snow and realized her cloak was soaking wet.

Her eyes were blurry and burning. Shadowed black against the flames, a tall man held up one hand and a great beam of blue magic struck the house with a gushing crash. She tried to crawl past him, but what she saw next was utter blackness.

It seemed like a second later when Mari opened her eyes again. Sticky sweat was pouring down her hot face and she was whimpering, still face-down in the thin coating of snow. She was shaking all over, completely drained and bewildered. She felt her ice-cold cloak being ripped off, and something warm being placed on her back and wrapped around her as a hand rolled her over. Snow was falling in her face, and she groaned and covered her eyes with her forearm, feeling completely drained.

A hand--maybe the same one that had rolled her over--grasped one of her own. Mari suddenly realized her hands were burned, and she screamed at the touch. She tried to jerk away. But the other hand held on to hers, cool energy glimmering into her flesh, weaving into her wound; then moved to her other hand and did the same.

Cloud was speaking in a low voice to the person healing Mari's burned hands. The terribly hot, acrid smell was now muted by a cold wet smell, but inside her mind was panic and flames and intense pressure. "Mother Lia..." she murmured, and tried to sit up.

The hand was powerful, but it was gentle as it pushed her back down. "Don't try to sit up," a rich, soft voice said. She lay there in a blind stupor, unable to think.

"Who...?" she muttered, forcing her eyes to clear themselves long enough to focus on a pair of lovely crimson eyes and a thick fall of long black hair. "Where's Cloud--"

"I'm right here," Cloud said reassuringly, crouching down on her other side and half blocking her vision as he leaned down. "You're going to be fine, Mari. I'm sorry." His voice was low, and the mage knew he was speaking of Lia. She turned her face towards him, sighing heavily with grief.

She began to drift on a half-unconcious plane, the two men's faces going in and out of focus as she slid deeper down. Suddenly her stomach lurched again as two hands slid underneath her and lifted her up into the air, and she returned to conciousness.

"Put her on Fenrir, Vincent," Cloud was saying. "I'll take her back with me to Tifa. This girl needs to be taken care of."

"No problem. Do you need me for any more healing?"

"What about her staff? Let me see if it has any Cure materia in it." Cloud looked over the mage staff for a moment, then sighed. "It doesn't. Only a summon, a magic, and a support."

Mari instinctively burrowed her face into the crimson-eyed man's chest, where the heart beat firmly and steadily as though he had done nothing of effort at all. You put the fire out...you have magic...you can heal...don't put me down...oh please, don't leave me...Her thoughts began to tangle uselessly and she gave up thinking at all.

"We just might then, Vincent. We'll see how she is once we get her in and get her rested. One of us will give you a call if--"

"I'd rather be there myself, Cloud." The beautiful voice thrummed in his chest against Mari's ear. "I would be right there and there would be no time wasted."

"All right, I'll see you there." Cloud's voice was much closer now, and Mari was leaving the arms of her holder and healer. She cried out softly as she was gently settled onto Fenrir, with Cloud's body holding her in place. "And thanks," he added. "I couldn't reach her in time. She would have burned to death if you hadn't come along. And I probably would have knocked her out trying to put out the fire on her cloak."

"You know by now that I'm always there to help," the other man murmured as Fenrir roared to life.

You can expertly kill monsters, but you can't save those you love. Her own thought stabbed Mari through the heart, and she fainted against Cloud.

-o-o-o-

The first thing out of Denzel's mouth when Cloud came into the house with Mari in his arms was a loud "SHIT!".

Tifa managed to cuff him hard in the back of the head before she ran up to Cloud and put her hand on his shoulder. "What happened?" she demanded, her eyes wide. She looked past him as Vincent quietly strode in the back door after him, bearing the mage's staff. "Is it the Silverwing woman?"

"Her home was burning down, and she was trying to summon the power to put it out," Cloud explained, effortlessly holding the unconcious girl to his chest. "But she panicked and couldn't, so she ran right into the house to save the woman she lived with. Lucky Vincent had just arrived, or she would have died."

Tifa's face clouded over with sadness, and she touched Mari's limp hand. "Oh Cloud," she said softly. "I know from the kids that her whole family was killed in the crisis, and now this. I could not stand her father for all I was worth, but he still didn't deserve to lose his life and she didn't deserve to lose him. Take her up to the guest bedroom, will you?"

"I need to stay with her," Vincent said unceremoniously, pausing to address Tifa as Cloud carried the mage upstairs. "Because she was unable to release the amount of magic she had summoned, it's going to be roiling through her body for several days at least, and I need to keep watch over her condition. I have to work quickly if she takes a turn for the worst."

Tifa nodded her consent. "That's fine, Vincent, just make yourself at home," she replied, and watched him move upstairs.

Thank the gods Barret came and took Marlene home yesterday, she thought. She would be so upset.

Denzel rushed up to her and tugged on the back of her shirt to get her attention. His voice was quiet and hesitant, completely unlike him at all. "Tifa...? Is Mari going to be all right?"

Composing her face into an encouraging smile, Tifa looked down at him and gently ruffled his hair. "Of course she will be," she said. "We'll take good care of her, and she'll be fine in no time. Now, let's get these dishes done, and you can go upstairs."

-o-o-o-

Regaining conciousness as she was laid down in a strange bed, Mari's eyes flew open and she grabbed two fistfuls of Cloud's shirt. She stared up at him, but she could barely see a thing past all the burning fog. The pain was so great throughout her body that she tried to scream; no sound came out, and she threw her head back as it ripped through her until she saw stars.

"Vincent?" Cloud said worriedly, glancing over his shoulder as the dark-clothed man stood framed in the bedroom doorway.

Vincent wordlessly moved into the room, motioned the swordsman away from the bed, then laid the palm of his hand on the center of Mari's heaving chest. He cast Full Cure, and had to wait only a moment for her reaction. The mage arched back, bulging eyes staring at nothing, mouth agape and lips trembling, and her entire body shuddered once before she collapsed and dropped back into unconciousness.

Vincent stood over her, looking down at her ashen face and the tiny tremors that raced through her. "She's in terrible pain, Cloud," he said. "The magic is still caught inside her, and there's not enough room for it. It's pressing on her organs and it must feel like fire in her veins. I can connect myself to her and help her release most of it, which will take off the brunt of her pain, but I need to be alone with her."

Cloud swept one gloved hand through his hair and considered Vincent, who seemed as untouchable as he was ageless. "Okay," he said after a moment. "Just...umm...be careful."

Something close to a smirk flickered on Vincent's face, but he didn't answer. When Cloud strode from the room, the former Turk unbuckled his cloak and cast it to the foot of the bed, then took the glove off his good hand and threw it in the same manner. Taking a deep breath to open himself up inside and brace his body, he picked up Mari's hand and clamped it between both of his own, and directed his mind into hers. She had never experienced that before, because it was surprisingly easy to reach her.

Give your magic to me. Pour it like water into my hands. Cast it.

Mari's fevered hand cooled and suddenly there was a blue ball of light glimmering between Vincent's hands. He drew it from her, sucking it into himself, empowering him as Mari's every muscle loosened beneath him.

As Vincent withdrew the blue magic, it hovered in his hands like small water planets. He straightened and left the bedroom, flattening his hands against the air when he reached the bathroom and sending shimmering blue jets of water magic crashing into the bathtub.

Cloud's head appeared in the doorway. "That's a lot of magic," he remarked as the last few streams arced from Vincent's hands.

"Indeed," said Vincent, gliding past him.

As his foot touched the bedroom threshold, Vincent felt the quiet, pained voice touch his mind like an unwelcome--but not unpleasing--soft rain. Don't let me die. Don't leave me...I've lost everyone I've ever cared about, and I thought I wanted to be alone. I don't...you can use magic and heal too...please stay. You...why do you feel so cold inside you? I can't reach...it's hard...you feel like me. Maybe you are me, or I'm you, or we're each other...

The gunman stilled, gazing at the girl as she lay unconcious on the bed. Her question troubled him, but he refused to address it. I'm not going anywhere, he replied.

Five days did Mari Silverwing's painful stupor drag on, but her condition did not worsen. Sometimes she trembled and thrashed, sometimes she muttered indecipherable gibberish, sometimes she broke out into a fever, and sometimes she would rise to conciousness sobbing until her face got red and puffy. Quiet and attentive, Tifa came in often to sit her up and place water or soup beween her lips, and guide her out to relieve herself. Mari would be mostly concious during these times, responsive to Tifa's handling and gradually becoming more clear-headed every time. But it was only in deep unconciousness, which she slipped in and out of, where she felt peace away from her agony. "Will she ever come out of this?" Tifa asked once.

"She will when her soul decides it," Vincent said. "Her body is healing, and her body is healing her mind and soul. When her soul is ready to face life again, she'll come out of it. What are your plans once she is fully functioning again, Tifa?"

"She'll stay with us as long as she likes," Tifa said firmly. "I haven't discussed it with Cloud yet, but I don't see that there would be any problem. Yes...she'll have a home here if she wants it."

Vincent thought the worst was Mari's nightmares, which brought her upright, gasping and crying out, thrashing and tangling herself in the sheets. Her brown hair would stick to her in wild tendrils, her green eyes would be tightly squeezed shut, and she would writhe as though she was being tortured to death. She had them often once the sun went down, and tirelessly he would place his hand on her forehead and calm her at once into peaceful slumber again. It never drained him mentally, for he could get by with much healing and little sleep as it was, but it drained his trapped soul just to watch her in the middle of the terrible dance of a nightmare. At least he had very few nightmares, and those usually involved his lost love, Lucrecia Crescent, and the horrific things that were done to him in Hojo's laboratory.

Every time he blinked, Mari's drawn face was burned into his mind. Vincent dozed and she moved in his mind, and he forgot about the entire world. He was doing everything in his power to keep her from slipping into utter madness, and that was all he cared about until she recovered. It wasn't a new thing for him to slip into his own tiny world that involved only he and the person or people he was tending to, but it was new for him for it to go on this long. He was almost lost in this little world.

He didn't connect to her again, however. There was no need to, for the remainder of the trapped magic inside her had quickly disappated, leaving very little internal trauma. Though he wouldn't quite admit it to himself, he didn't want to hear her pleading voice again, reaching into his depths and trying to probe his thoughts. Nobody could do that to him. His mind was a fortress, armed and guarded, and no person--especially not another woman--would ever scale those stone walls.

On the sixth night, Vincent awoke with a start. He had dozed off in his well-used chair by Mari's bedside, and sleet was needling down and tinkling on the window. Somebody had come in and turned off the table lamp, and the numbers on the nightstand clock glowed in the darkness: 3:25am. He didn't know at first what had awakened him, but then he looked at his charge. Mari was moving uncomfortably, her forehead broken out in a cold sweat again, and she was breathing heavily through parted lips. The nightmare was just starting. Vincent stood up and leaned over her, palming her damp forehead as he had done so many times before. "Sleep in peace," he whispered.

The strangled cry was so sudden that Vincent bristled like a wolf. Mari grappled his arm and clung to it desperately, trembling, sobs hitching on her breath. Her eyes were dark and shining, staring at him in terror. "Oh gods," she gasped, pulling herself upright. "Help me."

Vincent lowered himself and sat on the edge of the bed facing her, supporting her light weight with one arm. She was shaking so hard that he felt his own body tremble from the strength of hers. "You're awake now," he murmured. Her eyes were clear and alert, no longer clouded and blind. "The nightmares will soon pass. You're well now."

Vincent froze as Mari leaned into his body and buried her face in his chest. Her sobs quieted, but she continued to cry, surrendering her entire being to him. The sleet quickened outside, angrily needling the window. But that was the harsh, living world outside. Vincent and Mari were in their quiet world, of healing and calm, where nobody could touch them.

Not knowing what to do, Vincent sat there, looking down at the girl as she curled up in his arms like a child. Never having anyone dependant on him like this before, he felt awkward, undeserving of her trust. Her breathing slowed and her shaking subsided to stillness, and after a few minutes, he realized she was asleep. Normally, this time.

"You're going to be fine, red mage," he murmured.

 

[Lady of Shadows]

-o-o-o- Seven -o-o-o-
Recovery



It had to be moments later when Vincent next opened one eye. It had to be. But the sun was dawning golden-red through the window, shining on the layer of ice compacted against the glass. And the window was sideways.

He drowsily remembered he was laying down on the bed, on his side. He forced both eyes open and cleared them with a blink, then looked down to see the red mage tightly pressed against him.

Vincent blinked again, stifling a yawn. He lifted his head and stared down at the girl, trying to gather his thoughts. Mari was breathing softly and warmly against his throat, her near-translucent hands clutched in his black shirt and her hair flaming behind her like a fan. His metal forearm, its perfect surface glinting red with the morning light, was draped over the delicate curve of her side to keep her warm. She was soft and sweet, yet strong and hard-muscled; the golden epitome of femininity. Asleep like a child, he thought, his eyes softening. He couldn't quite stop himself from hesitantly lifting his metal hand to trace the clean-cut line of her jaw with his finger, then give himself the excuse of feeling her forehead with his flesh hand to see that she didn't have another fever.

Vincent was bemused that he had fallen asleep with the girl in his arms, whether she was frightened and cold or not, but he couldn't deny that it wasn't an altogether unpleasant situation to be in.

Don't even think that, he told himself. Don't tack on another sin.

Mari stirred, nuzzling into the hollow of his throat. Vincent shivered and pulled his head back, thinking that he must get up before she awakened and they were both uncomfortable. One thing that he tried never to be was awkward and not in control, and he despised it whenever Hellmasker, Chaos, or any of his other demons overwhelmed him. Maybe she would wake up and be frightened or angry, or maybe she would...

Vincent almost started choking at the thought. Like anyone would want to explore the mutilated body of a monster, or take him into her body. Like he would want to expose his very soul again, to someone who could just twist and snap it in pieces in an instant...But maybe he'd been away from it for too long. So long that he wasn't even sure he knew how to go about it anymore. He had felt the old animal desire awaken, quite without his permission, when he first met Tifa. So it was still possible, at least.

What an idiot, to be thinking of this kind of thing now...

Since when had he become so lax in his self-awareness, anyway? Recently, it would seem, for him to drop off with the sleeping girl in his arms. It was so...human, and somehow it made him feel more so than in the years since he was resurrected as this...thing...that he was.

Damn, but the girl was lovely. Her features weren't by any means perfect, but they lent her an almost exotic, unusual beauty, and the gilded sunlight softened any imperfections that she had. She was pure human, pure female, purely cast in magic. Color was slowly returning to her pale face, but her brows remained furrowed; she would mourn when she awakened, but at least she was going to live. That was the most important thing, right?

Vincent scoffed to himself, not pleased by the irony. He propped himself up on one elbow and slid his legs off the bed, slowly pivoting his hips and lifting his torso up to a sitting position. Brushing a tendril of hair from Mari's face, he gazed at her for one more moment longer. "You'll be in good hands in this house, Silverwing," he said. He hooked his cloak and glove from the foot of the bed and started from the room.

The bed creaked. Vincent looked over his shoulder to see the girl groaning in the light, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes as she struggled to sit up. So much for a quick getaway, he thought ruefully as she turned her head to look at him.

The gunman's breath caught in his nose. Mari was cast into a warm, amber and purple shadow, and the dawnlight behind her edged her entire body in a bright halo. She looked so innocent, so frightened, so confused...how could he possibly expect what she could do next? Vincent hadn't wanted to wait and find out, but he had no choice now.

"It's you," she said, her voice no more than a croaky whisper. "From the Sleeping Forest. You...you saved me." Her eyes dropped. "I owe you my life. Thank you."

Vincent pulled on his glove and hoped his face was expressionless as normal. "When I save a life, I do not expect it to be owed to me in turn," he said simply. "Knowing that you survived is all I need."

Mari's eyes were still down on the edge of the bed, but her cheeks pinkened. "I...I've never encountered another person that has magic before, except my trainer."

Vincent was buckling his cloak. "So you've said while you were ill," he murmured as the collar comfortably hid his lower jaw.

The girl sharply looked back up at him. "What...else have I said?" she asked tepidly, her eyes widening.

A ghostly smile on his pale lips, Vincent stepped out of the doorway. "Many things," he said mysteriously, and he was gone.

"Vincent!" Tifa said in surprise as the gunman moved downstairs. She was already awake and in the kitchen, supervising as Cloud fumbled with a frying pan on the stove. The bar was yet unopened, so everything was loud and almost echoing in the empty spaces. The kitchen opened into the back of the bar, and in turn the kitchen led to the private quarters upstairs. "How's the girl?"

Wishing to be on his way quickly but not to be rude to his friends, Vincent inclined his head a little. "She is awake and just fine," he replied. "She may be confused for a time in the next couple of days, but that's to be expected. Do not let her stay alone for too long, for as much as she may not admit it, she desperately needs to be around people who care about her right now. Let Denzel see her when he wants to. I think it will do her good."

Tifa's shoulders dropped with the relief. "Yes, Doctor," she smiled. "Thank you."

"Yeah, Vincent," Cloud said, quickly turning something over in the skillet with a spatula. "Why don't you stay a while longer? You're the person she's seen most since she's been here. Besides, I'm cooking breakfast."

Vincent keenly sniffed the air, then shook his head. "I can tell you are," he said.

"Damn!" Cloud exclaimed as smoke began streaming out of the pan and into his face. "People distract me for two seconds and I burn everything. Thanks a lot, Valentine!"

Tifa laughed and took the frying pan from him, scraping the mess into the trash can. Grey smoke whipped the ceiling, and she sat the pan into the sink and ran cold water into it. "Are you sure you don't want to stay, Vincent?" she asked. "I can make something to eat in a minute."

"Hey!" Cloud crossed his muscular arms over his chest, and burned a mock-glare into Tifa. "Who says? I was going to try again." When she ignored him, he leaned over and gave her a firm poke in the ribs, sending her yelping sideways.

"Thank you, but if it's all the same to you, I have business to attend to," Vincent replied, feeling like he was watching the scene from far away. "If the girl begins acting strangely in any way, call me." He glanced at the private kitchen doorway as the slight form of Mari staggered in. "Goodbye."

-o-o-o-

Mari looked up to see the crimson gaze on her, then the swish of his cloak as he disappeared out the back door into the deep constrast of the white world beyond. Her heart fell as the door closed and the person she had seen and felt in her need for the last six days was gone, and she slowly traced the echoes of Vincent's alien touches as though trying to remember them. She wondered what in the world she could have said while she was ill and not herself...Before she could start imagining all kinds of mortifying things that she may have said, she moved into the room and was suddenly very concious of herself.

"Tifa?" she said raspily, putting a hand to her throat. She had gotten to know the girl, who was the same age as her, bit by bit in Mari's unpredictably concious states.

Tifa, musing over Vincent's departure--which wasn't really unusual in the least--jumped. "Mari!" she exclaimed, and rushed over to Mari and grabbed her shoulders, holding her steady. "Are you all right?"

Cloud paused in his second attempt at cooking. "I...I think so," Mari mumbled, her hand moving up to her throbbing temple. "I feel better than I have been, which is s-saying something." Her legs had turned soft, exhausted from their trip through the house to the kitchen. "I need to sit down."

Tifa quickly guided the mage to a chair, which Mari was grateful to slump into. "Thank you, both of you," she said softly, glancing under her eyebrows from Tifa to Cloud. Her eyes darkened in sudden fear as she snapped her head up. "Is something burning?"

"Huh? OH SHIT, NOT AGAIN!" Cloud dropped the frying pan on the stove with a clatter; smoke was skittering in clouds over it, and he knocked two eggs from the counter to the floor with a derisive splat before he managed to heave the pan into the sink.

Tifa rolled her eyes and grabbed a potholder to handle the pan. "Cloud is a novice at cooking," she explained dryly, scraping the vicious-smelling burned mass into the trash can. "Don't worry. Are you hungry?"

"I'm starving," Cloud replied.

"Not you!" Tifa chuckled, slapping his arm with the potholder.

Mari sat still, gathering her thought processes together to make her mind work. After being in so much pain for so long, it was hard to reconnect herself with her body. She felt blurry. "Sure...yeah, I'll eat something," she said. "Whatever you've got."

Tifa bumped Cloud out of the way with her hip, which earned a coy grin from him, and crouched down to retrieve a fresh frying pan from a cabinet under the sink. "Well, you're not picky, are you?" she said, gently amused. "Unlike the males of the house."

Just then, Mari heard the sound of running bare feet coming down the stairs and into the kitchen, and then the voice as the sound stopped. "Woah! Is Cloud cooking again? And...Mari?!"

In an instant, Denzel was at Mari's side, his eyes huge and his fingers unhesitantly on her shoulder. "You look different!" he exclaimed. "Last time I saw you was two days ago and you didn't look good at all! Vincent said you were gunna be all right, though, which is what everybody's been telling me, but still! Man, Marlene would go nuts if she was here right now, but her dad took her home until his next mission! I'm sorry about your home. You can live here if you like--"

"Denzel," Tifa chided, not unkindly. "Don't bombard her so much, at least until after she gets some food in her system."

Clearing her muddled thoughts and trying not to think of her younger siblings, which would in turn remind her of Lia, Mari closed her burning eyes. "How long has it been since...since..." She couldn't go on.

"Six days," Cloud said, sitting down at the table.

Six days. It felt so much longer than that, and so much smaller and calmer in her own private world with Vincent Valentine and sometimes Tifa. She felt like she had been away for years, and was now cringeing at loud kitchen noises and bright lights and loud talk. French toast was now frying perfectly in the pan, and that was Lia's favorite thing to cook for breakfast...

"'Morning, Denzel. You going to eat standing up?" Cloud said soberly.

"No way," Denzel said, and sat down in a chair next to Mari. "But I could. I'm that hungry."

"How could you be, with all the burned smells abound?" Tifa said, rolling her eyes in Cloud's direction from over her shoulder.

Mari withdrew from herself, her mind feeling like wet wool, and realized Cloud was gazing contemplatively at her. She reluctantly raised her head to meet his eyes.

"Mage Silverwing," he said, quite seriously, "how would you like to live here?"

 

[Lady of Shadows]

Hey guys, I'm back with another chapter As always, if you see any inconsistencies in this story, please let me know so I can fix them! I don't pretend I know everything there is to know about FFVII, so please correct me when you need to :3


-o-o-o- Eight -o-o-o-
Starting To Care




And so Mari Silverwing accepted the second offer in her life to have a new home. So quickly had her familiar home with Lia disappeared into a burning mass, with every physical memory destroyed and every mental memory buried in the mage's mental cemetary, that Cloud's question bewildered her enough to say yes.

And it would start all over again. She would get close to Cloud, Tifa, Denzel, and Marlene...and then one day down the road, once Mari had completely recovered from Lia's death, it would happen once more and she would lose them all.

She was positive that she was cursed.

Now she stood, blankly staring out the window at the falling snow. A different window, a different view, but the same girl inside and the same winter outside. And what kind of girl was that? No personality, no feelings, just determination and magic. That was all she needed, wasn't it? She was alive, and healthy once more. She had to be thankful for that.

Thankful my ass, she scowled to herself, frowning at her ghostly reflection in the window. Her new room was Tifa and Cloud's guest bedroom, and Tifa had already transformed it into a beautiful sanctuary for Mari to escape to whenever she needed it. The walls were painted a soothing, deep blue, with sand-colored carpet and muted blue bedsheets and curtains. Mari had been taken shopping, quite generously so; the dresser drawers and the small mirror-door closet were comfortably filled with new things. The bed was larger than the one she had at her former home with Lia, but it didn't feel like it was hers. None of it did. But then again, she dully realized, neither did it at Lia's until she lost it forever.

Of course, only seven days had passed since she had been drawn into the strange little family fold like a lost child. She shied away from Denzel, though at the same time he was a bright spot in her day, and she appreciated having two new friends the same age group as she. She helped clean up tables at the bar and washed dishes, and it reminded her of when her father made her do so in Cloud Nine. Her friends' smiles tormented her inner anguish, but their voices already made her hurt with a caring that she knew was dangerous to have. Every time she cared, she lost...Were these sins she had to pay for, somehow?

Mari threw herself on her bed, sighing at the daytime shadows playing on the ceiling. What god had she angered to deserve the pain? So many times she had felt like dying from it, or at least screaming herself raw and letting her magic consume everything around her until nothing was left, for then it would be like her inside; barren, cold, sunless.

Well, that's how I feel. No self-pitying about it, Mari thought as a twinge of self-concious guilt surprised her. It's the way it is, and it will never change. I can't let it change.

But she kept seeing the courageous, kind eyes of her new friends, and it hurt her inside more than she could bear to think of losing them.

A soft knock issued beyond her bedroom door, and Mari sat up. "Come in," she said. The door opened and Cloud walked in, leaving it open behind him.

"Hey," he said, sitting down on the edge of the bed opposite from her. "What's up?"

Mari kept her eyes on the window. "Tifa sent you up here to check on me again, huh?"

"Errm...I..."

The mage smirked at the falling snow. "No worries, I know how busy you are with the deliveries. It's a great business, Cloud." Great business, great person...

Cloud shifted on the bed, touched Mari's shoulder. She tried not to cringe from the caring touch as she didn't want to hurt his feelings. "You know, Mari, you could join us in the delivery service if you want to. Tifa takes care of the ordering end and I take care of the delivery end, but we could use a little help. It's got to be more interesting than doing dishes, anyway."

Mari now looked over her shoulder at him, noting with great annoyance how his face lit up at her unguarded expression. "Good. It will take your mind off things," he said. "It's just what you need."

Like you know just what the hell I need, Mari thought irritably, but her face was masklike like she had intended it to be in the first place. "Sure, Cloud," she said, trying to sound enthused. "I'll be glad to work with you guys. When can I start?"

"Today, if you like," Cloud replied, grinning as he moved off the bed and stood up. "You must be bored to death, anyway. Come on, I'll show you what you can do."

-o-o-o-

So Mari began working in Strife Delivery Service, taking phonecalls and organizing orders as they came in. It was a very small business, but it was a thriving one. She was getting paid for it, and it kept her busy; it was therapeutic to not have to think about what she used to have, but to only concentrate on what was before her. She adapted easily to her job, maybe even enjoyed it. She grew closer to Tifa and Cloud as a result and listened intently to their adventures during the crisis and just several months earlier when Sephiroth was making his return.

In exchange for their reliving of adventures that Mari could only mentally drool about, she felt obliged to tell them about her past. She told them of Montgomery Silverwing, even down to his comfortably portly appearance which Tifa knew well, and how devoted he was to the inn and how he never wanted her to travel or become a mage. She told them of her mother, the sweet and calm ex-mage, with the heart of an adventurer but not enough courage to leave her settled life and go fulfill her dreams. It was bad enough that Montgomery had put a stop to Rhia's active practicing, though she had trained Mari in private before sending her to her former trainer, Sheena. Mari told Tifa and Cloud of her younger siblings, who were all laughs and shouts, and of her brother Ran, who was as practical as their father and had his heart set in taking over the inn when he was old enough. Before she lost them, Mari had thought Ran and Montgomery to be upsettingly boring because they didn't want to have adventures.

She told Cloud and Tifa about the horrible day when Meteor and Holy combined, and her entire family and Sheena had been killed; how she had struggled to heal herself and then went running through ruins and blood to find the smoking remains of her house. She told of Lia, who had lost her own family and was good of heart, taking her in as both a kindred spirit and new daughter. Two years with her and a little shorter time in the house near Edge, the house with its mismatched tableware and sense of security, with a bright-faced woman who was always looking after her like a child.

"It's so easy to take for granted what you have...until you lose it," Mari said, no longer able to look at her two friends as she carried on about her work. "I kind of feel like it's a punishment of some kind. A horrible punishment that I don't know how to repent for."

Tifa looked at her with furrowed brows as Mari answered the shrieking phone, and continued to do so after Mari hung up. "I don't think it's a punishment, Mari," the other girl said sincerely, taking hold of the mage's hand. "Many people were affected by the crisis and have their own story to tell and bear, and to have an accident thrown on top of your story is just cruel. But if you're being punished, then so have most of Midgar's population. You're okay now, with me and Cloud. We've had some pretty close scrapes, but we're still here, aren't we? And so will you, with us. Nothing touches any friend of ours."

Mari now looked into Tifa's deep eyes, and tried to smile as Tifa squeezed her hand. "I just feel like I'm going to jinx it if I start caring again," the mage admitted, feeling heat rise to her cheeks. "It's a horrible feeling. It's haunting my every step, and it probably always will." Her shoulders sagged a little before she checked herself and straightened, not wanting to seem weak.

"Well, you're a mage," Cloud put in, gently clamping his hand down on Mari's shoulder. "If you feel like you're jinxing it, just do a damn counter-jinx. You can't live life forever in a stormcloud. I did that for far too long, isolating myself from everyone I knew, and even after that, it took me a lot to overcome that storm. I'm glad I did, and you'll be glad too, Mari."

Feeling a righteous pinch of chagrin, Mari's eyes dropped. Cloud peered down into her face until she was forced to meet his gaze again, and though his jaw was set, his voice was kind. "Trust me, Mari," he said. "Work on your magic, and work with us. We've already had me be completely withdrawn, and we've still got one friend who's completely withdrawn into himself, and I don't like seeing you like that too."

The three of them, standing in a triangle with Cloud and Tifa side by side and crowding Mari, suddenly realized the phone was ringing off the hook. "I'll get that," Mari murmured, quickly walking away from her friends.

The following day, before Mari even woke up, Barret Wallace arrived to drop Marlene off before he left on another mission. Once the young girl learned that the mage was there, she ran squealing to Mari's bedroom and landed with a proper belly flop on top of her.

"Denzel told me everything!" she said breathlessly, sitting up as Mari scrambled awake. "About how Vincent saved you, and that you're living here now, and everything else! This is so cool!"

As though hearing his name, Denzel came into the room and bounced on the edge of the bed. "Morning!" he declared. "There's like five feet of snow outside! Want to come outside with us?"

Mari stretched and cleared her eyes, then looked brightly at the two eager children. Without warning, her heart filled. Kin and Kaiya used to wake her up like that, almost every morning, especially when something they considered exciting was going to happen that day and they wanted to include her in it. "Sure, but let me wake up first." She began to stretch again, but Marlene was impatient and threw herself on her again.

"Come onnnnn," Marlene begged. "Hurry! I've gotta get my coat on again. Come on, Denzel!" Just as soon as she'd landed on Mari, she'd jumped off again and was racing out of the room with a laugh, Denzel close behind her.

"Well...gods. Don't punish me again." Mari's eyes went to the window, where ice-blue and pink-edged shadows lay stretched crisply over the grey buildings and naked trees, and she frowned. "I have no sin to repent."

Except that when I care, I care too much, and then I ruin it with a fight...

Mari got up and dressed, throwing on her red hat and the new cloak she had had made in the same design as the one that had gotten burned in the fire. Might as well take this, she thought, grabbing her staff. We run the risk of Shadowmongers. They might already be here somewhere, like those nasty Shadow Creepers were before.

She got downstairs, humming to herself and firing up a flame pre-spell in her staff, and Tifa was just entering the kitchen yawning widely. "Good morning!" Tifa said, slightly surprised. "I just saw Cloud off with a small shipment. You going outside with the kids?"

Mari nodded, discreetly showing off as she practiced throwing the orange flame from the staff to her hand and back again, letting it flare up harmlessly and twist like a dancer. "This fire only burns what I tell it to burn," she said, quickly looking at Tifa. "And it can explode things if I bent it to my will even further. I've mastered much materia."

Tifa merely grinned; that soft, knowing upturn of her lips that had Mari feel curious every time. "No worries. Go ahead and go, but breakfast will be ready in a few. And coffee. Do I ever need coffee."

Mari breathed, filling her lungs with life; the flame grew brighter. "Yeah, me too," she said. "Today might be a good day, and coffee is always a great start."

Still humming ancient mage songs to herself, she stepped out the back door and immediately got assaulted by a powdery snowball, the laughter of Denzel and Marlene, and the pale morning light.

 

[Lady of Shadows]

-o-o-o- Nine -o-o-o-
The Change of Things






"Hello."

"Vincent, it's Tifa. The mage's condition has changed and you have to see her at once. Hurry!"

"What is she exhi--"

Click.

"Damn it," Vincent growled, putting away his phone. I thought enough time had passed by now. He swiped extra Cure materia out of the Death Penalty and quickly moved downstairs. Let her not die before I get to her...

-o-o-o-

Tifa put down the phone, pleased with herself, and went to the window and looked out. Marlene and Denzel were busy building a snowman, pausing every now and then to whack each other with the packed wet snow. Mari was walking around the scene, neatly throwing out her staff before her before she stepped to meet it. She was still slightly leaning into the staff, her balance not yet fully recovered from her meltdown, but her eyes were clear and bright as she kept them keenly focused on her surroundings. I need to find more ways to get she and Vincent to see each other more, Tifa thought. I think they're kindred spirits. They just need to open their hearts, that's all...and if I can help them on their way to doing that, then I'll be happy. I just wish I could open Cloud's heart too.

She sighed a little, wistful, her heart ever aching to feel Cloud Strife's arms around her. To feel his lips on hers, his body pressed tight to hers every passing night, to know that he cared for her in the way she did for him. If she could ease the differing--but in some ways similar--pain in Vincent and Mari's hearts, then it would ease her own.

At least for a while. At least before she went to bed at night and continued to ache, wishing her dreams would reach Cloud in his bedroom.

"They're just memories now," she whispered aloud, watching Mari look up at the sky. "Aerith is just a memory. Lucrecia is just a memory. The Silverwings and Lia are just a memory. Just live, you guys. Live on and look forward, like the rest of the world."

-o-o-o-

Marlene and Denzel finally finished their snowman, after repeated interruptions of snowfights, some ammunition of which hitting Mari and making her exaggeratingly guard herself with her staff. The two children stood back at last, admiring their creation, which was slightly lopsided.

"It needs a hat," Denzel said, poking the snowman's face and leaving a shallow hole there. "What'll we use?"

Marlene glanced at Mari, and her eyes widened. "We can use her hat!" she declared, then looked pleadingly at the mage. "Please? Just for a minute?"

Mari managed a lopsided grin that she hoped didn't look half-hearted, and swept her hat off her head. "Of course," she said, handing it to the young girl. "Just take care of the feather. It's from a white chocobo that I met a long time ago."

"Oooooh," the two children breathed, staring at the hat for a moment before Marlene jauntily placed it on the white head of the snowman. "Now he's pretty," she said, clapping snow off her mittens. Suddenly her gaze averted to one side, and her head followed until she was staring straight to her left. "Someone's coming!" she said delightedly.

Mari turned on her heel in time to see Vincent Valentine bearing down on her, his cloak swirling like blood behind him. His pale face was shadowed, his eyes glowing like rubies; she stepped back in instinct as his foreboding figure quickly moved toward her. "Um--?" she squeaked, the breath forcing itself out of her as his hand firmly closed on her shoulder.

His eyes were narrowed, staring into her, seeming to draw out her soul. After a moment where Mari couldn't catch her breath under that overpowering gaze, his hold on her shoulder softened, but his eyes remained locked on hers. "There's hardly a thing wrong with you," he murmured, his voice washed in surprise. "You're almost perfectly well. Tifa told me your condition had changed and that I needed to see you at once."

Mari still couldn't quite catch her breath from the suddenness of the gunman's appearance, but as she regained composure, she raised an eyebrow. "She did?" she asked, confused. "But I'm feeling fine now. And I--" Her voice trailed off, unsure if it would remain steady, or what it was even going to carry into. She was growing dizzy...off-balance...She clutched her staff, the only thing keeping her grounded, and Vincent's hold on her tightened again.

"No, really," she said, painfully severing her gaze from his. But her eyes only traveled down his long, muscular-looking body, which was perfectly enshrouded in black and red and multiple buckles. "I don't know what Tifa was talking about, but I can assure you that I'm well now, Mister Valentine."

Vincent's eyes were still on her, making her uncomfortable. He opened his mouth to speak--and was hit right in the jaw with a snowball.

"Oops," Denzel grinned innocently, hiding a second snowball behind his back. One thing Mari had learned about Denzel was that he was rarely shy; he'd said that even the first time he saw Vincent, he wasn't scared of him. Just amazed.

And maybe that had been her reaction, too, because it still was.

Even so, Mari was more than glad for a diversion. As soon as Vincent's hand fell away, she staggered away from him, carefully keeping her eyes on the snow. She figured he would just go away to wherever he'd come from, but she suddenly heard his mock-dangerous growl: "Okay, Denzel, you've had it now."

Mari couldn't help but turn back around, in time to be blasted by Denzel's shout of "YIKES!" and watch a large snowball flash past, soundly thumping the boy's retreating back. She moved away as the boy fell laughing to the ground, but Marlene was running behind her and couldn't be stopped.

"Vincent's never thrown snowballs!" she panted, giggling. "I'm scared! Big bad Vincent is acting like a kid!"

The girl tightly held on to Mari's cloak and watched as Denzel and Vincent engaged in an energetic snowfight, which quickly ended with the strong gunman positively burying the boy. Even Mari couldn't suppress amusement with how funny the scene was, with such a nonchalant and mysterious man suddenly throwing snow at a child as though they were the same age. Marlene quickly bent down and threw a snowball at Vincent, and laughed as it struck him.

Vincent spun around. "Don't think the mage will protect you," he said loftily, gliding toward Mari as Marlene squealed and dashed under her cloak. "I have ways of drawing you out."

"No way!" Marlene declared, her voice muffled against the mage's back.

Mari swallowed nervously as he got within a hairsbreath of her once more. "If you'll excuse me, madam, I need to carry out my revenge. It's my duty." Without warning, he suddenly grabbed her cloak with his fearsome metal hand and lifted it, reaching the other hand behind her. Marlene shrieked, squirming hard against Mari and making her stumble and fall to her hands and knees with the unexpected force.

"I'll have you know, Mr. Valentine," Mari wheezed, rolling over to watch Vincent pick the suddenly exposed child up and hold her upside-down against his torso with his metal arm, "that nobody touches me or anything on my person without my permission."

Vincent used his normal hand to tickle Marlene before putting her on her feet again. "Hm," he said, and lifted the wide-brimmed mage hat from the snowman. "And I'll have you know," he replied, stalking to her and gently clapping it on top of her cascading hair as he crouched down to bring his face close to hers, "that nobody tells me what I can and cannot touch."

Mari shivered and lowered her eyes. "Well, you're in for a surprise," she whispered, failing to come across as annoyed.

Vincent merely made that "Hm" noise in his throat again, which sounded more like a soft purr than an actual word. "You didn't while you were sick," he said lowly, his voice like a balm over her suddenly prickled nerves. "You didn't have to give me permission then. And stop pouting."

Mari realized he was offering her his flesh hand, and she recalled the first time they met in the ethereal Sleeping Forest. She shivered again at the memory, and accepted his hand. He pulled her upright, his eyes smoldering like hidden fire under his low-set black brows, and she felt her throat dry up under their quiet ravishing of her. "I don't pout," she seethed.

"You are now."

Mari narrowed her eyes in an attempt to glare at the gunman, but gave up, huffing as she looked away. He frightened her. Not just his appearance, or his swiftness, or what she'd learned from Cloud what Vincent was. She wasn't really sure what else it was, but it made her feel out of control and unknowing of her own mind, and that terrified her. Plus, he annoyed her. Maybe.

"Now," Vincent said, smoothly lifting his head and looking at the house. "I will go question Tifa as to why she really wanted me here, because you are quite well indeed."

-o-o-o-

Tifa smiled, discreetly watching the entire scene with her heart fluttering in anticipation. When she saw Vincent start toward the house, she quickly went to the counter and grabbed her coffee mug, and sat down just as he unceremoniously entered.

"Don't play innocent," he said, crossing his arms over his chest as he towered over her. "I know you, Lockhart. What are you up to? The mage is perfectly fine and you know it."

Hiding her lips behind her mug, Tifa looked up at him. Vincent didn't look entirely displeased, she noted with satisfaction. "Oh come on," she said, putting her mug down. "I'm just--"

"I know what you're 'just trying' to do," Vincent interrupted smoothly, leaning down with one hand on the back of her chair and another on the table in front of her. "You're trying to hook me up with the mage. Tifa...you know this can't happen." He looked slightly frustrated now, his hair draping back over one eye. "I can't do it."

Unintimidated and exasperated, Tifa scoffed. "Please," she said. "Let it go. Thirty-three years, Vincent. She's dead. Look what she did, and look what she helped make you to be. Why the hell do you still love her, for hell's sake? Live for now, Vincent, not for yesterday! Loving someone isn't that hard for you, obviously, because for over thirty-three years you've been loving someone who didn't care about you in the same way!" She slammed the palm of her hand into the table and shot to her feet, turning from him and walking back to the counter.

Vincent slowly straightened. "I can't love again," he said quietly. "Not after her. And if I did, what would I do once the woman died of mortality, and I was left to live alone without her for eternity on this cursed fucking planet?" He tried to remain calm, but the last words he spat like a snake's venom from his mouth. "And were I mortal again, I would still be what I am...this monster, this creature that's no longer human at all. Who could love that?"

Tifa's eyes were fixed on Mari, who was standing in the snow, vaguely touching her shoulder where Vincent's hand had been. "She could, Vincent. Give yourself a chance. You're still human."

There was momentary silence, then Vincent's voice chilled with bitterness. "Then why don't I feel human?"

Before Tifa could answer or even turn her head, he was gone.

 

[Lady of Shadows]

-o-o-o- Ten -o-o-o-
Dark Shadows






Mari started awake, cold sweat beaded like heavy dew all over her body. The room was suddenly unfamiliar and frightening, unreal and full of jagged shadows. The nightmare was still pounding through her, the faces of Cloud and Tifa as they died jerking a terrified sob from her throat.

It was early March, with a late-season storm blasting her window with sleet and wind. Mari huddled down, shaking all over, unable to get the thought of her two friends being run through with longswords. Their dying words had been: "Mari...why did you have to care so much? You have killed us" and Mari had been rooted to the spot, unable to move or even speak as they fell dead at her feet.

At least it wasn't the dream she'd had where Denzel had been thrown over a cliff, or the other dream where Marlene's spine had been cracked in half over the knee of some great montrous person whose face Mari could never make out. Those repetitive dreams Mari could not shake off during the day, especially when she was around the unknowing children whose happiness was usually so contagious.

The dreams had started hitting her so suddenly that it angered her. She had healed, she thought, and was caring deeply about her friends and going about each day with a renewed sense of life and hope. It felt so wonderful to be giving her heart again in little bits and pieces, carefully, savoring it every time as though it was to be her last. And now these nightmares had started, sometimes occurring in clusters, sometimes at random so that she never knew when to expect them.

Mari got up that morning, tired but alert, and went about her business as usual. It almost pained her to look at Tifa, and she was glad for the respite when she was able to quit working at the bar for the evening and do whatever she wanted.

"I think I'll take the staff and just walk around a while," Mari told her with a wan smile. "It's stopped sleeting, and I need a little fresh air."

Tifa looked at her curiously; by this point, she knew that the mage's evening walks and short journeys were normal, but she saw something strange in her eyes. "Mari," she said lowly, "is everything okay? You're really pale." Marlene and Denzel looked up from where they were watching the television in the living room, carefully listening now.

Mari shrugged. "It's nothing," she said. "I've been having some nasty nightmares again, is all...I don't remember much about them. They're driving me insane, and I think some fresh air will do me good." Yeah, I don't remember much except you bleeding all over me and dying...

Tifa failed to point out that Mari had been taking such walks almost every day for the past week, since the weather had slowly begun to shape up. "You think we should get Vincent back here so he can monitor these nightmares?" she asked in concern. "When you were sick, all he had to do to stop your nightmares was put his hand on your head. Are these the same kinds of nightmare? Or worse?"

Mari twisted up her mouth, thinking for a moment--trying not to think of Vincent touching her. "Well, they're different. I dreamed really twisted and horrible things when I was sick. These are just..." Just what are they, anyway? Worse? Omens? Premonitions? My mind messing with me?

Tifa wisely decided not to press it much further, to Mari's relief. "Do you want Vincent here to stop them? Maybe he could figure out what's causing them."

The mage shrugged again, now shuddering inside at the strangely pleasant thought of Vincent touching her. "It isn't neccessary," she replied, trying to slap on a reassuring tone to her voice. "Maybe I'm eating or drinking too close to bedtime or something? I don't know, Tifa, but I'll be fine." No I won't...I'll never be fine. Don't leave me, any of you...

Tifa gazed at her with the wisdom of one who had seen and fought much in her twenty-two years. "If you're sure," she said. "But I think having Vincent here to stop them for you would be easier."

"I'm not fond of people watching me while I sleep," Mari said with a wry grin. "Or touching me when I don't want them to."

Tifa grinned. "He would sleep until one of your nightmares would wake him up. That's what he did when you were sick."

Mari wished the conversation was over with. "That's kind of embarrassing. There's no need to put him to the trouble unless they get worse or more frequent, I guess."

"Well, let me know if they start getting worse." Tifa placed a hand on Mari's shoulder and gave her an encouraging smile. "Please."

How could they possibly get any worse?

The walk, which took her all over Edge and did not bring her back until late evening, did not calm her rising panic. What if they're premonitions, really? I can't risk that. I don't want to see them die, not when I've just started to trust myself and trust the new life I have. I can't do this. Maybe I really am cursed, and everyone I love dies. I just can't do it.

She was too deep in her fearing thoughts to see the three black shadows whipping behind a building paralell to her.

I need to leave here before it happens to them. I can't live through this again. I know it's going to hurt them, leaving like this...but I just have to. They've got to understand. Mari returned home and went to bed without another thought, except the brief pang in her heart when she turned to tell Tifa and Cloud and the children goodnight. She had already made up her mind, and she didn't want them knowing where she was going. She sat up and waited, packing her clothes in her knapsack, waiting numbly for them to go to bed.

-o-o-o-

Shadowmongers. You will die tonight.

Vincent almost lazily loaded the Cerberus, his thoughts causing him to nearly tangle his hand in the dangling silver pendant of the three-headed dog that hung from the gun. I wonder if Silverwing has heard any more on them than I have. I am surprised at not seeing her in the Sleeping Forest or Gongaga anymore. The Shadowmongers have gone from Gongaga to Kalm so far, even ravaging the chocobo farms. A thousand souls stolen so far. The Shadowmongers must be here. And if they are, I will find them.

He cocked the Cerberus and gracefully jumped down from the rooftop he was crouching upon. With silent feet he moved, gliding unseen through the shadows, his every sense pricked up with the lust to destroy. Never feeling, never hesitating, never stopping, just pressing on in the same cold and calculated manner he had been taught in the ranks of the Turks and had perfected on his painful journey to destroy Sephiroth.

The shadows were still, dark-blue and purple with the soft gleam of the waning snow. Not a soul moved outside, not a stray animal could be seen. In his element, Vincent walked as one with the shadows, his eyes scanning for any change or movement. Others might not be able to see the peculiar swirling he knew to look for, but he knew though he had never seen one of the beasts before. He hadn't been walking through the sleeping Edge before he found what he was looking for in an alley. If nobody else had been able to find it, he knew he would, and all the better for happening upon it so quickly. Or had it appeared for him?

A massive, hulking black beast with a whiplike tail and a long ridge of spikes down its back. It was darker than a black hole, impossibly dark, but its eyes gleamed with ferocious hunger. It was crouching low but it wasn't giving any indication that it saw Vincent; it was bending eagerly over a small heap on a dry spot against the wall.

Vincent aimed with deadly precision. The beast still had not seen him, but it was now growling at whatever animal--or human--it had caught. It never heard or felt the smooth firing of the gun, but it yelped once and faded in tendrils of black matter that fully disintergrated within seconds.

"That's one down," Vincent muttered, now allowing himself to be pleased with the shot. Now, for the unfortunate creature that it had in its grasp...He strode toward the crumpled heap, and bristled when it uttered a low, painful whimper.

He stopped just before it and stared down, then blinked in shock. The heap was a young woman, curled up in a fetal position on top of a thin blanket. She was twitching as though in a nightmare, her red cloak covering her and her matching hat hiding her entire head from that angle. It was Mari Silverwing.

Vincent inwardly reeled. What if he hadn't gotten to her in time to kill the Shadowmonger? And how in hell did she become so stupid as to stop in an alley to sleep?

Putting the Cerberus away, he bent down and picked her up in his arms, but she didn't stop twitching. She began to writhe like a snake, her brows furrowed and her mouth twisted as though she was in pain. "No, Tifa...don't die...please don't die..." she slurred. "Yes, I do care about you and Cloud too much...but...don't let this be my third punishment...oh gods, the blood...I tried to escape before it was too late..."

Damned Shadowmongers. "Wake up, Mari," he said sternly as he leaped up to a low rooftop. "You're dreaming. Wake up." Giving himself time to shake her a little, he looked down at his surroundings and did not see another swirl in the shadows. Not yet, anyway. Mari stopped twisting and her mouth softened, but her brows remained drawn tightly even as she slipped back into dreamless slumber. Sighing, Vincent debated on whether to take her back to Cloud and Tifa, or to take her back to his small dwelling. The nightmares need to be rectified, first of all. And it would seem Silverwing left the house for a reason, however foolish it could possibly be. She is not the smartest person around...

He argued with himself for another minute before deciding to take her to his house, as they were closer to it by this time. He leaped from snowy rooftop to snowy rooftop, surefooted and lithe even with the burden of a person in his arms. His lower body propelled him; he needed no use of his arms and hands at the moment. When they reached his house, which was a dark and obscure two-story wedged between two apartment buildings, he jumped down and managed to unlock the front door without much struggle.

The house was devoid of light, at the time it was, but Vincent easily knew his way around by now. He had purchased the small but pleasing house just after Sephiroth's return, though he still liked to wander and see different things rather than keep to the place all the time. It was nice to have somewhere solid and constant to return to, he couldn't argue with that. He carried Mari up the curved staircase and into his bedroom, where he gingerly laid her upon his bed.

"Sleep in peace, Mari," he whispered, laying his hand on her forehead, which curved perfectly with his palm. The tension on her face instantly dissolved, but Vincent continued to gaze down at her, watching the tranquility wash over her lovely face. He hadn't seen her since that morning when Tifa had tricked him into coming over, thinking the mage had gone ill again, but Mari hadn't changed except that she looked stronger. He had thought of her often, bright thoughts chasing the darkness that so deeply pervaded his mind and heart, and now here she was, asleep in his bed.

Hadn't he had a little fantasy about just that only a few nights ago, when he had allowed himself to relax enough to experience such thoughts? It amused him, and at the same time it bothered him. He couldn't think such things or feel that way about the mage. He had seen how much she feared him, and he knew she was still trying to pick up the pieces of her life.

But so am I, damn it.

Vincent moved to the high window by the bed, and sat down on its narrow seat. The ice-white moon was a waxing crescent that hovered low over the rooftops, and stars were dashed across the sky like spilled salt. He could feel a vague draft coming in through the cold windowpanes, but it didn't bother him. Nothing bothered him now, except that he was finding himself wishing he could climb into the bed next to the sleeping woman. Something about her drew him to her, and it was starting to annoy him. He was the champion at controlling his feelings, so why couldn't he now?

He had saved her life once again. Mari's own panicked foolishness had put her in danger two times now, and Vincent wanted both to smack some sense into her and to just hold her and not let anything hurt her again.

Why am I thinking like this? he thought irately, gazing over at the calm figure taking up his space on the four-poster bed. I know I am deprived, but I'd rather not get into this sort of business, now or ever.

But he immediately contradicted himself with a light scoff as he found he couldn't take his eyes away from Mari. Looks like you might already be doing so, Valentine.

 

[Lady of Shadows]

-o-o-o- Eleven -o-o-o-
Haunted





Vincent was still sitting in the window when the sun rose. As the light warmed the glass and himself, he looked back at Mari's peacefully sleeping form. His pulse quickened, just as it had all the night long whenever his eyes fell upon her. There is no time for this, he thought to himself irritably, looking away again. But he had told himself that for hours now, which he realized bitterly as he gazed out at the pink sky shot through with gold.

The girl needed more training, and he figured he would be the one who would have to do it. The thought annoyed him, though he wasn't sure why. He needed to go to Kalm and Gongaga and possibly further, but what if something happened to her while he was gone? Maybe he should just tell Cloud and Tifa to keep a much closer watch on her, or maybe he should just slap common sense into her himself...

The sun bathed Mari in liquid gold, and she stirred. The gunman forced himself not to look over at her anymore until she was fully awake, but it was a hard thing to do. She yawned, then yelped in fear as her eyes opened and focused on the room around her.

"Where am I?" she whispered to herself. The bed creaked slightly as she sat up; Vincent felt her eyes train on him and her breathing shallowed.

"You lose composure easily," he merely remarked, still keeping his eyes on the sky.

"Is...is this your house?" Mari asked, befuddled. "How did I get here?"

Vincent idly grasped the metal Cerberus pendant hanging from his gun. "It's indeed my house," he said, now staring at his watery reflection in the window. "And you seem to have run away from home. You were asleep in an alley and a Shadowmonger was just about to kill you. Once again, it's fortunate I was there, or you would be dead." Now he pivoted to face her; she slightly cowered. "For a trained mage, you are not smart," he said with a voice of steel. "Why did you run from Cloud and Tifa, and when did these nightmares start up? You are not alert and that has been proven to me more than once to me, starting from the night we met in the Forest."

Mari shrank from him, though her eyes flamed with anger. "It's none of your business," she replied bluntly. "And the nightmares began not long ago. I was just walking and I guess I just...wait a minute, what do you mean I'm not alert?"

Vincent said nothing, but suddenly leaped from his seat with the Cerberus instantly aimed at her head. Mari gasped in her throat and scrambled, clumsily shooting a weak Fire1 spell at him from her right hand as she dropped backwards off the bed for shelter. Vincent caught the fireball in his metal hand and extinguished it with a curl of his wrist, then hid the gun away again. Striding around the bed, he found the mage bristling like a wolf, breathing heavily and her hands glowing.

"Well, you're a little better than you were before," he said wryly. "But it still proves my point. You're not alert to what's around you. You can't possibly deny that." He decided to ignore her defensiveness on why she ran from her home, as it seemed to be a habit of hers, according to Cloud, one that she always ended up regretting and had nightmares over.

Mari uttered a low curse and rose on shaking legs. "Next time you want to scare me to death, Mister Valentine, spare the scaring part and just kill me, okay?" She brushed her skirt off, the magic retreating from her hands. "And yeah," she added sourly, "You're right. I know I need work. But you have to remember that I only started training when I was seventeen, and Sheena died when I was twenty."

Vincent closed his eyes in a long blink, as though it equaled to a shrug. "Not a good excuse," he said. "There are trainers and masters in other locations, and you seem to travel enough, so why haven't you found one? Your mind is too fixated on other things to bother, Silverwing."

He was far from intimidated from the lethal glare she sent him. "So, you must be interested in knowing that the Shadowmongers have reached Edge." Vincent walked away and back to the window, where he looked down at the street. "It's just what I figured. I was hunting for them last night, and that is when I found you, under the very paws of one. Kalm and Gongaga are riddled with them, and a few mages and other magic wielders have been able to dispatch some of them. As I have nothing else to do besides constantly save you, I will be going to both towns to take care of the beasts myself."

Behind him, Mari grimaced. "You wouldn't understand if I told you," she said lowly. "But I don't intend to anyway. All the same, thank you for saving me...again." Her growling tone lightened into one of utter shame, and Vincent turned around. She had hung her head, staring at the floor. The gunman walked up to her, compelling her to meet his gaze, as much as she didn't want to in her embarrassment.

"I would understand, red mage, because I think I already have it figured out," he said, his own tone softened down. "But as you said, it's none of my business. Just understand that you have to keep your mind and body sharp, or there will be a time when I am not there to save you, and you will be killed through your own foolishness."

A spark flared through Mari's eyes again, but it was gone just as quickly. "I understand," she said quietly. Vincent could see more words in her gaze, questions she would not ask and truths she would not admit to. He didn't know if she knew how entirely vulnerable she looked at that moment, but some unfamiliar part of him just wanted to take her in his arms.

"Um...do you...do you need help with the Shadowmongers?" she said now, lowering her eyes back to the floor as her entire face stained pink. "I swear I won't mess up, and that I'll stay alert. I was just fine when I killed two of the creatures in Gongaga before. I kind of owe it to you, anyway." Her shoulders straightened as she attempted to regain her dignity before him.

Vincent considered her for a moment. Silverwing was undoubtedly powerful, but her non-lucid moments could cost her her life and possibly the lives of others. He had heard of her attack on the Shadowmongers in Gongaga a couple months earlier, which befuddled him more on why she would let herself become so vulnerable that one almost killed her.

She needs to stop running away from what's in her mind and face it, he thought, then suddenly felt a dark pang that silently told him he needed to do the same. He brushed it off and nodded his assent, for he had a feeling she would follow him anyway out of stubborn spite, and he might not be able to save her if she got into trouble again, even if Cloud and Tifa protected her all they could.

"I am still not used to traveling or fighting with others," Vincent said. "But you could be of help, if you promise me one thing: keep your mind in the present." He felt another dark pang and tried to ignore it.

"I promise," Mari said, still not looking at him.

Vincent hesitantly laid his hand on her shoulder, and her summery eyes found his again. "You have been through a lot, mage Silverwing," he said. "That I understand. I also understand that you do not want to lose Cloud, Tifa, or the children, and you're running away because you fear that. You'd rather run than see them taken from you. I understood such when I heard your words in your nightmare last night. But while these thoughts are in your mind like this, and the thoughts about your family and your guardian, you cannot let your mind go foggy and then panic. That is why you faltered when your guardian's home burned down, and why you ran in and tried to save her. If you didn't burn alive then, you would have suffered and died from the magic poisoning and eventually crushing you from the inside out. Do you want that to happen again, or have something else kill you?"

Mari set her attractively angular jaw. "No."

"Good." Vincent unintentionally gave her shoulder a light squeeze, and a surprised torrent of tingles shot through him; he removed his hand, and Mari's gaze turned curious and almost imploring. But he couldn't quite admonish himself for the act, because he really did understand her. If only she would be able to understand him, but nobody really did except for Yuffie and Cloud. "If you keep that in mind, you will do well. I will help you if you help me, Mari. The Shadowmongers are something that is springing from the will or mind of something else, which you probably already know. We need to find out what that something is."

Mari ducked past him and plucked her cloak from the foot of the bed. "Have any theories, Mister Valentine?" she asked, her voice stronger now.

The light tension snapped and faded in the air between them. "As of yet, no. I will do my own research until a WRO--World Restoration Organization--" he added as Mari's eyes registered lack of recognition, "meeting is held, which shouldn't be far from now. We will leave at this time tomorrow morning. Until then, go back home. Cloud and Tifa will be missing you."

Mari looked a little disappointed. "I figured we'd be going this morning," she admitted sheepishly.

"Eager?" Vincent asked, and didn't wait for an answer. "Good, but you need to get ready. I will come to Seventh Heaven at this time tomorrow morning and get you."

Mari nodded, and buckled up her cloak as she started out the door. She paused so quickly that Vincent almost bumped into her as he followed. "Thank you, Mister Valentine," she said meekly.

"If I didn't know any better, I would think you were calling me that as a sort of joke," Vincent sniffed, not unkindly. "Please, call me Vincent. If we are going to be traveling together, it would be better to know each other on a first name basis. Just don't call me Vinnie."

Mari breathed a soft laugh, and the gunman felt his pulse quicken yet again. "No problem, Mist--I mean, Vincent."

He showed her to the door and said goodbye to her as she ventured out into the pink-hued snow, and watched her until she was out of sight in the milling morning crowd.

Don't lie to yourself. You don't deserve her.

He frowned at the window, folding his arms at his chest. I deserve nothing, but I want her. Lucrecia...I can't do this...please forgive me. For everything. I want to be made whole for the first time in my damned life. Don't let me add her to my list of sins...what do I do now?

-o-o-o-

"So, I decided to go for one of my evening walks, kind of late I know, and I ran across Vincent."

Tifa grinned. "Oh really?" she said, amused. "The moonlight must have drawn you together. Or pheromones." She innocently took a sip of her coffee to stop herself from laughing at the very look on Mari's face.

"Something like that," the mage said discreetly. She didn't want to worry Tifa with the whole story of running off and almost getting destroyed by a Shadowmonger. "Anyway, we go back to his house--"

"Oooh yes," Tifa chuckled, and Mari scowled at her.

"Nothing happened, you crazy. Anyway, like I was saying--"

"You two performed a little mattress mambo that lasted 'til dawn," Tifa filled in.

Mari groaned and thumped her fists on the table. "No," she retorted. "We talked so long that we didn't keep track of the time, and next thing we knew, the sun's all the way up..."

"So what did you two talk about? Sex? You talked out sex?"

"TIFA!!!"

"Sorry! I really can't help it!" Tifa leaned back in her chair and laughed, her face red with delightful boldness.

"He wants to improve some of my skills," Mari said, content to change the track of the subject. "Magic, alertness, things like that. We're journeying to Kalm and then to Gongaga, starting tomorrow, to hunt down Shadowmongers and try to learn more about them. I hope that's okay, because I'm going even if it's not." She peered cautiously into Tifa's suddenly unreadable face and was prepared to argue.

"I can't stop you, Mari," Tifa said, completely serious now. "If he wants you to go with him, then go with him. Just be careful." She put down her mug and smiled. "I know you will be, but you know how I am."

Recalling the vicious dreams of losing her friends, Mari felt momentary pain. What if she was needed in Edge, and couldn't get back in time to save them? It would be her fault...but then she tuned out that guilty fear in her mind and mustered up the strength to return Tifa's expression. "Don't worry," she said. "I'll be fine."

"You'll be in excellent hands, anyway," Tifa said, then snickered. "In more ways than one, I imagine..." She got up and bolted for the bar before Mari could even get to her feet.

Like he would even want me, the mage thought darkly. Little did she know, the gunman was thinking the same about her.

 

[Lady of Shadows]

-o-o-o- Twelve -o-o-o-
The Glint of Steel




Mari was hardly nervous when she slipped downstairs in the pale blue light and saw Vincent already there, waiting for her. Cloud and Tifa bid the silent pair goodbye, and the gunman strode off into the dawn with the mage at his side. In fact, Mari was excited about traveling, especially with this frighteningly interesting man...this lovely male-creature that could supposedly transform into one of several monsters in the blink of an eye. She couldn't stop herself from stealing glances at him whenever she could, making sure he didn't notice. She wanted to be left alone in her discreet observation of him, the sleek way he walked, the things he was hiding within him and under all those clothes.

He really was beautiful, not only physically but also in a tragic way that seemed to cling to him. She watched him with almost morbid fascination.

The gunman seemed so out of place, his face cold and indifferent as she was used to by now, looking foreboding against the early spring morning. Dark against light, deep sadness against pastel hope. Mari felt a twinge of sorrow for him, fully understanding how he must want to hide everything from the world, making himself numb in the process. She was still that way, mostly. But being around him seemed to release her pain, if just a little.

By mid-morning, the pair had hitched a ride on a truck that was heading into Kalm. The driver warned of the fruits from the southern land that he was delivering, so Vincent and Mari perched carefully and made sure not to smash any of the plump food that was packed carefully in crates. The mage had never seen such beautiful fruit before, and she couldn't help but touch them with the wonder of a child.

"They're making me hungry," she muttered, rubbing her stomach as it began to complain loudly. She hadn't eaten much breakfast in her excitement, though she knew from experience what a mistake that could be. She blushed, hoping the gunman couldn't hear the growling sounds coming from her.

"It won't be long now," Vincent said, watching the dusty road behind them. "We should be in Kalm in another two hours. I find this way to be cheaper than driving myself, because I'm kind of rusty at it. And I don't like chocobos."

Mari, unable to tear her eyes from him, nevertheless sneaked her small hand in the crate in front of her and plucked up a smooth purple fruit. She dropped it, blushing again as his ruby eyes slid to look blankly at her.

"What? I'd leave gil for him," she mumbled, jerking her thumb behind her to motion to the truck driver inside the cab. The piercing gaze didn't leave her, and for some reason, she felt herself melting under it. "What are you staring at?" she asked, composing her face into one as unreadable as his.

A grin twitched at one corner of Vincent's mouth, cracking his icy facade. "It's nothing," he replied. "But I'm beginning to see more of your personality. It's amusing."

Mari scowled, dropping her gaze. "Meh. I'm not going to ask what you mean by that. You should show more of yours, Mister Valentine. It's pretty hard to decipher."

Vincent's grin faded and he looked to the road again. Mari noticed that his shoulders were slightly slouched, and they hadn't been a moment before. "I'd like to keep it that way, if it's all the same to you," he said to the air. "And it's Vincent."

Nothing more was said, but an uncomfortable silence hung between them. Not sure what to think, but understanding his words anyway, she leaned back and watched the sky pass dizzily over her as the truck continued on to its destination. The long-haired gunman was a puzzle, that was for sure.

But then, she thought vaguely, so must I be.

At last, the town of Kalm was reached. It was eerily quiet, and as Vincent tensed and looked around him, Mari sat up and felt the familiar heat of magic surge through her, and she wondered if he felt it too. The truck shuddered to a stop, and the amount of gil given to him wasn't disclosed to Mari, but Vincent came away with his metal hand full of fruits.

"Sneaky," she smirked as he handed her two of the same purple fruit she had longingly picked up earlier.

"Heh. At least I do it without being seen," Vincent said slyly. "Let's go reserve a room at the inn, then we will wait."

Mari blinked at him, tucking the fruit into the travel bag slung over her shoulder. "Wait--? For what?"

Vincent was already striding ahead of her. "Shadowmongers don't appear in daylight, madam. And what is it right now?"

The mage narrowed her eyes and followed him, forcing her face back into a mask but unable to hold back the blush that betrayed how silly she felt. "Oh, it's the middle of the night, Vincent," she said sarcastically, using her staff to poke his dusty footprints before her.

Vincent booked a room for one night at the inn, having to pay 300 gil for it without a blink. "One bed?" the concierge asked brightly, glancing from Vincent to Mari and back again.

Mari quickly looked at the gunman; his face was stained pale pink. "Two," he said.

"Agh." The young concierge leaned on her palms on the counter. "I thought you two were a couple, if you know what I mean. I'm afraid the only rooms available at this time have one bed per room."

Vincent looked down at Mari, and they sized each other up for a moment. It wouldn't be the first time they had innocently shared a bed, and there wouldn't be much sleeping anyway, since they would be hunting Shadowmongers. "Fine." The gunman handed over the appropriate gil, and the concierge was more than satisfied.

"Room 3," she smiled, handing Mari the cardkey. "I'd advise you get around in the daylight, and stay indoors once dusk sets in. These Shadowmongers seem to be breeding or something. There's been five more deaths in the past two days, and yet Kalm remains flooded with people who don't listen." She shook her head sadly and went on about her business, leaving the gunman and the mage to glance resignedly at each other and head upstairs.

It was a small room, but clean and cozy with a neatly-made big bed. Mari immediately went to the bed and flopped down on it, her back muscles screaming with relief after being rammed and vibrated to hell and back on the truck. "Ohhh...this is nice," she said, dropping her bag and hat and allowing herself to utter a moan as she stretched out.

Vincent strode up to her and yanked her boots off. "Shoes off the bed," he said in almost a scolding tone. "And sprawl all you like, but you'll be keeping to yourself when we do sleep. No manhandling in your sleep, please."

Feeling more comfortable than she had ever felt before, Mari hissed. "Fuck you," she said, then uttered a squealing yelp as Vincent evilly ran his fingertip up and down the sole of her bare foot.

"You don't want to provoke me," the gunman smirked. "You can rest a while, if you'd like to."

Strangely lightheaded, Mari closed her eyes. "I'll provoke you, all right," she muttered, and before she realized it, she was fast asleep.

The sun was setting early as a hand lightly shook the mage's shoulder. "Mari. Let's go." When Mari mumbled in half-conciousness, Vincent rolled his eyes and pulled her to a sitting position, supporting her lolling head. "Come, you've been asleep since early afternoon. The hunt is beginning."

Mari wrenched open her blurry eyes and focused on him. "Oh," she said froggily, slowly sitting up on her own. "I'm sorry, Vincent. I didn't intend on sleeping that long." She clambered out of his powerful arms and grabbed her boots and hat off the floor.

Vincent watched her intently, eyes glowing. "Don't worry about it," he assured. "We could be out here all night, who knows."

They hunted until three-o-clock the following morning.

Mari found herself strengthening, cutting off the absorbive trains of thought and emotion to cast the spells correctly and instantaneously. Her staff moved almost on its own accord in her hand, and her free hand kept itself glowing as she and Vincent traveled the moonlit rooftops. There was a breeze that seemed full of ice, the stars trembling in mingled fear and excitement just as Mari's body was. Fortunately, unlike the first time she had encountered the Shadowmongers, nobody else was out in the path of danger. Her blood sang with the thrill of the hunt, in an almost vengeful, carnivorous way.

More than once did Vincent cast admiring eyes at her, and she noticed with a quickening of her pulse that increased her flaming adrenalin. She began to see the swirl of shadows when he did, working harmoniously with the gunman as he pointed the three-barreled muzzle of his gun at the beast and shot it to windblown threads; she would keep his back, watching for any Shadowmongers that could possibly creep up on them. The beasts usually did not, for they saw the gun Cerberus ahead of time and skulked from it in fear. She found that almost any spell she knew would work on them, but Fire2 was her preference because of the firey show it gave.

Vincent merely shook his head when she showed him why she enjoyed using Fire2. "You remind me of one of my comrades," he said. They strode through alleys and down empty streets, retreating back to the rooftops often for a better vantage point.

When they didn't see another huge-pawed Shadowmonger for two hours, the pair crouched together on either side of a cold chimney, tirelessly watching the purple-shadowed town below them. The moon lowered in the sky, its light never dimming from its zenith's power, and Mari was enchanted by how natural Vincent looked silhouetted against it.

"So...what do you think of me?" she asked, her staff laid across her knees.

Vincent looked at her, his eyes almost purple in the light. "You have proved your power to me tonight," he said. "Perfectly alert...for once."

Mari glared at him and raised her staff, but a sudden bleak gust of air behind her brought her to her feet and face to face with the massive faces of two Shadowmongers, whose bodies neither caught or reflected any amount of moonlight. "VINCENT!"

The gunman's weapon raised; a flash of metal dangling from the gun, and one of the beasts yelped in terror and scrambled away. As the Cerberus's smooth shot rang out and obliterated the monster, Mari's leaped backwards as the other lunged in a panic at her. She sailed backwards off the roof, pointing her staff at the Shadowmonger and casting a shimmering fireball straight into its dripping jaws.

The mage tucked her feet under her to land, but her breath was knocked out of her as a flash of red came down and snatched her before she could reach the ground. "Dammit, watch the hat!" Mari said appreciatively, once Vincent had landed on another rooftop with her in his arms. "Thank you."

Vincent uttered that pleasing "Hm" sound in his throat again before putting her to her feet. "Are you all right?" he asked, his face grim but his eyes gleaming.

"I couldn't be better," Mari replied, realizing it was true. The revelation stunned her to the point of swaying on her feet, making Vincent grab her to keep her from falling. "I've never felt this...energized...before. And..." She couldn't place what else she was feeling, and that confused her.

Vincent made her sit down on a the peak of the roof, and crouching beside her, he nimbly removed something from his deadly gun. "I've found one thing out tonight," he said. "These beasts are frightened of my gun, and of the Cerberus symbol that hangs from it." He lifted the glinting pendant on its steel chain, letting it slowly twist and shine sharply in the moonlight. It was intricate and foreboding, the three snarling dog heads reaching up at the top of it. "I would suggest you wear this somewhere on your person, Mari. If the Shadowmongers so much as see it, they should run from you and give you the advantage, without the danger of being attacked suddenly like you just were."

Mari reached out and grasped the gleaming steel, cold against her palm. "I...thank you, Vincent," she said softly, wrapping it around her wrist and letting the pendant conspicuously hang over the back of her hand. "For now, I'll wear it here."

For another three hours they kept their stations, watching and listening intently for more Shadowmongers, but there were no more left in Kalm. Every street and every alley had been covered, every rooftop seen. The deepening cold was getting to Mari, despite her warm clothes and hat, and she shivered so that her teeth chattered uncontrollably, yet she didn't dare ask Vincent if the two of them should end the hunt. Instead, she sidled closer to him and pressed against his side, hoping the act wasn't as personal as she thought it was.

Vincent looked at her, a corner of his mouth twitching again. "Cold?" he asked, reaching behind her to wrap his ample cloak around her shoulders, his hand stilled tensely on her upper arm.

"N-no," she shuddered, enjoying the touch far more than she should have. But her body wasn't listening to her, and the gunman easily felt her trembles. He decided they would take one last inspection around the town, and then go back to the inn.

When they did reach their warm room at last, Mari's leg muscles were so badly cramped by suddenly being introduced to heat that she groaned and rolled onto the bed, careful to remove her boots this time. She managed to remove her hat and cloak and gratefully slide under the covers, her blood still pounding in her veins. Vincent wordlessly unwound the red dressing from his head and looped it around one bedpost, then unbuckled his cloak and carefully draped it over the back of a nearby chair. Mari inconspicuously watched him, her ears roaring at his better-revealed attractiveness and foreboding posture, as he turned off the lamp and stealthily climbed into the other side of the bed.

"Still cold?" came Vincent's soft voice after a few minutes.

As much as she wanted to tell him she was, there was no use in lying. She was more than warm now, including her ears. "No," she replied, flushing further. "Good night."

"Good night," said the gunman thoughtfully.

Neither of them slept, separated from the other by less than a foot, their backs to one another.

 

[Lady of Shadows]

-o-o-o- Thirteen -o-o-o-
Cautious Hearts





"Good reflexes. But you still can't dodge this...!"

Mari uttered an undignified squeal as Vincent plunged at her with impossible speed, grabbing her by the waist before she could leap aside, and pulled her to him. Her breath left her with only one look to his shadowed eyes, which suddenly dulled as he realized what he was doing and let her go. "Not fast enough, mage," he said.

Maybe I wanted you to catch me, Mari thought, and nearly said it. "How can I dodge you when nothing can stop you?" she asked, raising her brow. "You're too fast." She hadn't moved away from him, and unheedingly gripped his metal arm as she swayed on her feet.

Vincent's almost cocky gaze instantly turned to one of alarm as he glanced down at his arm, which her hand tightly gripped. Feeling a pitch of fear inside her, Mari quickly let go and backed away, steadying herself as she did so. Her moments of physical unbalance were expected after using so much magic, but that was the first time since they left Kalm for the more distant Gongaga that she had had to actually latch on to him for support. Why didn't I grab his good arm or something...you idiot!

Mari had quickly discovered that the barest touch to the metal arm made the gunman flinch, and she wondered if it pained him. She remembered asking Tifa once about the cold golden metal, but the other woman had no idea if that was his arm or if it was merely a gauntlet hiding something hideously malformed. She respected and feared Vincent enough not to stare or ask him about it, but sometimes she forgot about her hands' actions.

Vincent's tense face relaxed as he seemed to disregard the touch altogether. "It is because of my strength and speed that your reflexes must improve," he said as though nothing had happened. "I would not harm you, but others would." He subconciously hid the metal arm under his cloak, and Mari pretended not to notice.

"So, what's your tally?" Mari said, letting her muscles coil like springs as Vincent's body made the barest shift toward her. "I killed fourteen Shadowmongers in Kalm and I've killed seven here so far."

"Twenty in Kalm, ten here," Vincent said lazily. "If it continues that way, you owe me fifty gil."

"WHAT?" Mari cried, freezing. "Ohhh no you don't. I'll kill more than you and then you'll owe me fifty gil. You're getting none out of me!"

"Alert!" Vincent ordered, diving at her in that inhuman way again. Mari quickly aimed her staff and threw a harmless training spell at him, which he barely missed with a jerk of his shoulder. He paused beside her, knees slightly bent, his good hand at the ready. "Much better," he said approvingly, then soundlessly tackled her to the floor, knocking the staff out of her hands.

"Argh, get off!" Mari growled, struggling as he pinned her wrists at her sides. He had moved so fast that it took her a second to register what had happened. "That's not fair, Vincent!"

The gunman rose, crouching over her with his elbows resting on his knees. "Welcome to the real world," he said. "Nothing is fair." His eyes darkened as he looked at her, and she saw his eyes wander down her body whether he meant to or not.

Mari shivered in the wake of his eyes. She was calmed down yet dimly excited at the same time, just as she was every time she looked at him or saw him looking at her, which had been quite often lately. "You know I'm going to kick your ass in the hunt," she said, trying to break herself out of her own feelings.

Vincent snorted. "Try me," he replied.

Their second night in the quieter town of Gongaga that was so familiar to Mari, she destroyed five more Shadowmongers, and Vincent killed an even ten. She grumbled and muttered the entire way back to the inn, and wished the gunman would forget about the bet, but he didn't. She sat on her bed, propping her staff up against the wall at its head, and suddenly Vincent stood before her with his good hand out just as she was undoing her belts.

"Pay up," he said triumphantly.

Mari adjusted her gil pouch under her belts until it hung behind her. "Nope." Not only did the pouch contain her gil, it also hid an Ultima materia that she had bought without Vincent's knowledge. She wanted to practice using it and improve her powers, and prove to this superhuman-like man that she could do it herself.

Vincent didn't blink. "I won, rather fairly I must add." The expectant hand in front of her didn't move.

The mage merely rolled her eyes. "Hey, you said it yourself -- nothing is fair. Poor you." She shrugged without pity.

With a deep growl, Vincent tackled her, rolling her to the hard floor. "Hand it over!" he ordered, pinning her once again and trying to reach her gil pouch as she thrashed under him.

"You can pry it out of my cold, dead fingers!" Mari retorted, laughing. "You'll never take me alive!"

They continued to wrestle for a minute, thumping and bumping, Vincent's breath never even growing to a pant. He was overtaking her very easily. Without warning, he grabbed both her small wrists in his metal hand and wrenched them over her head to hold her still. "What are you laughing at?" he asked, eyes glinting like fresh blood at the mage. He had never heard her laugh before, and something inside him flipped over and over at the beautiful sound.

Mari was laughing softly, her cheeks bright pink at her efforts to try and overthrow him and escape. "You," she said with a smile.

The red eyes narrowed evilly as a small grin curled his upper lip. "I'll give you something to laugh at, madam." He watched with utter satisfaction as Mari's eyes bulged in shock for a split second, then squeezed shut as she shrieked with laughter.

"Vincent, no! S-stop! Please stop!" The mage writhed as Vincent's good hand traveled over her stomach and sides, discovering her numerous ticklish spots. His metal hand held her firmly as his knees locked around her thighs, rendering her helpless.

Vincent chuckled. "Then let me have the fifty gil and I'll stop," he said, enjoying the musical sound of her high, sweet laughter, and the way she threw her head back.

Mari trembled, trying to control herself. "F-fine, Vincent...just..." She couldn't continue talking, struggling desperately not to laugh.

"I can't hear you," Vincent said deviously, reaching under her shirt and loosened belts to torture her vulnerable skin even more.

"I...you're such a sadist...AHHHH!" Mari wailed, laughter ripping out of her as the gunman's skilled fingers dug into her ribs on one side, then the other side. "Take it, take the gil! Just...s-stop! I can't take it!"

A little disappointed that he couldn't continue the game even more, Vincent relented and grasped her gil pouch as she arched her back to give him access to it. He let go of her wrists and she rolled over to protect her abdomen, panting heavily into the floorboards. "Now I'm really going to kick your ass," she wheezed, hoping he wouldn't find her materia.

Vincent counted out his fifty gil and stood up to place Mari's gil pouch on the nightstand between their beds. "Don't count on it," he smirked. "I'm going to sleep now. Good work on the hunt." If he'd noticed the Ultima materia, he didn't betray the knowldedge that he did.

Mari wearily got to her feet, her skin tingling wildly from Vincent's mischeivious touches. She finished removing her belts and climbed into her bed, wishing for the gunman's warm body to be next to her like it was in the inn in Kalm. With the lights off, she could hardly see a thing. She wondered if Vincent was looking over at her, but she didn't dwell on the thought for long, for she soon fell into a deep sleep.

Mari awoke with a start, gasping for air. She gulped it into her lungs and wiped her sweaty palms on the blanket, eyes darting around the room. The dream was so vivid, burned into her mind; Vincent crying helplessly as blood flowed out of him, the left side of his chest wet and sticky when he put his shaking hand to it...he slumped to the floor, shaking with agony, but he couldn't die. He turned glassy eyes toward her, begging for her to kill him. But, like in her other nightmares, Mari couldn't do a thing; she was paralyzed. A woman had then appeared, long brown hair pulled up in a wrap behind her head, her long white lab coat splattered with Vincent's blood. She smiled vaguely at Mari, her eyes impossibly sad, as she stood over the twitching gunman.

"Red mage," the woman said bleakly. Her face was even peppered with sprayed blood. "I'm so sorry. Look what I have done. You have to heal him, or he will suffer for eternity without being able to pass on from this world...because of me."

Mari throatily cried out at the woman, but was still unable to move. "I can't!" she shouted frantically. "I can't move! Who are you? Help me!"

Vincent groaned, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. Blood pooled under him, dark and shiny. "It is my sin," he rasped. "One of many sins I can never atone for."

"In this way, I can't do anything for him," the woman said blankly. "It is I, Lucrecia, who caused it all. Red mage, you have to do this, or you will have sinned as much as I have."

"I CAN'T!" Mari screamed. The woman turned away and began to disappear into the shadows, and lusty Shadowmongers appeared, circling Vincent and preparing to eat him alive but not let him die...

Mari now trembled, trying to push the horrible dream out of her mind, but it stuck to her like some blood-sucking pest. She quietly threw back the covers and slipped to her feet, gingerly crawling into the fellow bed and finding Vincent's softly-rising and falling chest in the darkness. No blood, no agony, she confirmed as she placed her hand on his left breast.

Vincent didn't stir as the mage continued to tremble against her will, meekly curling up against him under the blanket. Her shaking body drew cold tears to her eyes that she tried to hold back as she began to piece apart the terrible dream. The woman was obviously Lucrecia Crescent. She had physically ripped his heart out but wasn't allowing him the bliss of death, forcing him to live forever, always dying inside but never having any peace. This is what he must feel like inside...all the time, Mari thought grieviously, trying to find his face in the pitch of the room.

But how was she supposed to do anything about it? How could she heal him? Mari let the few tears fall, dampening her cheeks. She was barely recovering from similiar pain, and she wasn't even sure how she was doing it. But then, the realization struck her so hard that her mind reeled.

He's healing me. Not with magic, not with medicine, but by himself. Keeping her hand on his chest, Mari timidly hunched up, feeling his heart gently beating against her. She was close to Cloud, Tifa, and the children, but not like this. Not on such a deep level.

She awoke, peacefully this time, to pale sunlight streaming into the room. Vincent was standing by the window, quietly talking on his phone. He looked completely alone, just as he had tried to keep himself for so long. Mari cautiously rose, walking up behind him as he ended his call.

"Hey..." she said awkwardly, holding her hands behind her back because she didn't know what else to do with them. She didn't dare touch him. How could a bad dream have turned her so much to him, attuned her so intensely to what he was feeling and who he was? He was her friend and comrade, but so suddenly and perfectly she was involved in his past and in his future.

Vincent stiffened slightly, which Mari dimly expected, but it still hurt a little after their closeness had built up so much over the past several days. "That was Cloud. He's in Junon for a delivery, and he was told two Shadowmongers were seen there last night, killing. We need to go there to eliminate them." His voice was distant.

Swallowing the nervous lump in her throat, Mari moved around him, squeezing herself between Vincent and the window. His warm body was in front of her, and the sun-warmed glass was behind her. She felt she should say something to explain her uninvited intrusion to his personal space, but just like when she fought with magic, she pushed out all thoughts to remain alert to the matter at hand. He was staring out the window, his posture rigid and his eyes unable to hide the sudden onslaught of pain within him. She could see it perfectly.

"Vincent." She leaned up, softly brushing her lips against the gunman's stern jaw. She felt him shiver, and she did it again, this time planting a soft kiss there. His eyes slid shut, his mouth slightly parted and his eyebrows drawn down as though in anguish.

"We ought to get going," he murmured, his voice seeming to come from elsewhere.

Mari retreated, nodding her head and still trying to shake everything from her. "Yeah, we need to," she agreed. "Just don't make any more bets with me, okay?" She forced cheerfulness into her voice but wouldn't look Vincent.

Vincent sniffed. "Heh, you give up too easily," he sighed, and Mari couldn't help but wonder if he meant something entirely different than bets.

 

[Lady of Shadows]

Sorry for the wait, guys! My computer and DSL decided to go kablammy at the same time, but I'm back now


-o-o-o- Fourteen -o-o-o-
Alive



The Junon Shadowmongers had killed five people, but the monsters soon found themselves to be the hunted; and soon enough, among the dead. Under rain-swollen, leaden clouds that hid the moon, Vincent and Mari hunted down the beasts in the listening quiet. They'd both had time to think about things, and that was what they were doing now as they cautiously walked down a broad street.

The almost constant close contact with Mari was like something eating Vincent alive in both pain and pleasure, making him keep his distance enough that she noticed with silent worry. Vincent wasn't sure whether he liked this painfully pleasurable feeling or not, but just from knowing he'd felt it before for someone else concerned him. So long ago, in the dim past beyond the horrific events that had made him what he was now.

I can't do this.

Hadn't he told himself that often enough? He was so tired of the guilt, the fear, the darkness pushing him ever downward until he felt like gravity had gotten much stronger, trying to suck him underground. Mari was giving him a new reason to exist, so why was it so hard to feel anything for her? She was much closer to him than any of his former-AVALANCHE friends were, maybe because she understood him when none of the others did--or was it because they didn't want to? She wasn't afraid of knowing him enough to understand him, as little as he thought she did. And he greatly appreciated it.

But still, their friendship was escalating at a rate that he couldn't control, and that frightened him. Waking up to her cuddling him in Gongaga had frightened him, and so had her kiss. She had done her best to remain detatched from him afterwards, but that unnerved him more than the actual acts had. He'd almost had his hopes up, for them now to be dashed. It crushed him, and it confused him that it did, since he couldn't bear to be that close to her again anyway.

Vincent couldn't stop his fear and hesitation from reaching his normally unreadable face, and it made him keep his distance from the mage even more. Mari continued to build up her skill under his rather distant instruction, staring at him as though she could read his mind.

They were both so absorbed in their nervous thoughts about one another that they didn't see the Shadowmonger until it struck Mari with its paw. She was thrown into the brick wall of a nearby house, massive claw marks on her stomach spraying a shower of blood everywhere. She slumped to the ground with an agonized grunt as the monster roared its blood-curdling triumph, summoning six others of its kind to its side.

Breaking out of his deep thoughts with a sharp stab of fury, Vincent felt the sleeping form within him awaken with a violent start. It overwhelmed him within seconds, forcing him down to his knees as it sucked all strength from him to make itself known. You haven't awakened in so long, Chaos...don't let me scare Mari away...I beg you...

The clouds gently opened, sending down a soft, cold rain. Vincent growled in a new voice, rising to his feet in a burst of green and red light. The Shadowmonger hung back, bristling, and Mari fearfully backed into the brick wall. The protomateria in Vincent's chest glowed bright white in its power as he straightened, spreading huge black wings and clenching clawed hands, and he felt the raw power explode through him in one wonderful surge. For a moment he knew nothing else in his tunneled vision but destroying the angry Shadowmongers with one swipe, but when they shrieked and faded out like weak dust, he knew hurt worry as the injured Mari scrambled away around the corner of the building, leaving a blood trail behind her.

Enriched with Chaos's power, Vincent quickly leaped after her with a loud snap of his wings. When he was not in Chaos form, he hated every memory of being such a creature, and now he knew he was really going to hate the memory of Mari fearing him like this. She cried out and cowered against a wall, too weak to summon magic. The sheer terror in her eyes burned him like hot knives forcing into his heart, but he kneeled down beside her and spread his wings over them like a great umbrella, sheltering her from the chilly rain.

Mari stared uncertainly at him as he watched her, his pupil-less yellow eyes silently begging her to not fear him, to not hate him. His dread began to fade to mere sadness and he laid a clawed hand on her belly, trying to ignore her twitch of fright as he easily healed her wounds. The sadness tore through him until he could barely think at all, even when the mage's fear finally abated and she touched his hand.

"Vincent--?" Her voice was low and hesitant, so vulnerable.

She thought I was going to kill her. The great pain in his eyes must have been apparent, for she drew up to him and reached up her hand to caress his blue-hued face, around which stood his foreboding scarlet headdress of long horns and spikes. "Oh...Vincent." Her eyes softening, she leaned up and brushed her lips against his cheek. She is just fooling herself. What's wrong with us?

In one sweeping motion, he picked her up in his arms and sprang into the wet air, flying back to the inn with the girl clinging to his monstrous body and the pain clinging to his heart.

-o-o-o-

"Do you want me to leave, Vincent?" Mari asked, her voice so quiet that the gunman knew she was afraid she would lose her great amount of composure. When he didn't answer, her eyes darkened and she looked away. "I'm sorry if I upset you in Gongaga, and I'm sorry if I upset you here as well."

Vincent turned away, looking out the window as the great orange sun sank below the cloud-corded horizon. He just couldn't look at her beautiful face anymore without the pangs of strange feeling pounding at him like hailstones. "I don't know what I want," he said softly. "I'm not sure I've ever known. I think it would indeed be best if we went home separately. I might do something that we'd both sorely regret. And I will not let that happen." I might fall in love with you. I want you here with me...too much. But he just couldn't say that part.

Mari lowered her head, staring at the floor. "No," she said lowly. "You will never let anything happen that might be good, will you? Nothing that will bring you out of your misery. I'm going to go take a shower, and then I'll be gone before the sun finishes setting. Thanks for helping with my skills and for fighting with me in Kalm and Gongaga. And...thank you for saving me last night."

She strolled from the room without another word, leaving Vincent to watch the darkening sky. He sat down on the windowseat and sighed to himself as a few stars began popping into sight, twinkling against the lavender field. What did he want, truly? Did he want to let go of his past, or did he never want to open up like that again? Did he want Mari, or didn't he? That feeling inside him made him feel alive, but his mind was madly rejecting it...was this his only chance, or did he even want another chance?

He didn't realize how long he'd been sitting there, until suddenly Mari uttered a furious growl from the bathroom. Vincent jumped to his feet, but he hadn't reached the bathroom door when it suddenly opened and slammed back against the wall. The mage stood there, dripping wet and rigid, hastily wrapped in a bath towel. Her eyes were sparking with anger, and her lips her twisted back in a snarl. She looked much different than she had seemingly just minutes before; Vincent could have been amused if the situation had been different.

"You know what?" she snapped, balling her hands into fists at her sides. "I don't get why you're pushing me away so fast, and I don't care! Hell, I've done it often enough to people. But there's no reason for it now, and I'm not going to put up with it. Why can't you let it go, Vincent? LET IT GO! BE HUMAN AGAIN! THERE'S A REASON TO LIVE AND YOU NEED TO GET ON WITH IT! LUCRECIA OBVIOUSLY DIDN'T LOVE YOU ENOUGH, BUT I CAN! And I don't care about your so-called demonic forms!" Quickly losing composure, she sprang at Vincent, swinging her fist at him. She barely missed as he stepped back, which angered her more, ignoring the hollow depression that darkened his ruby eyes.

"How much about me do you know?" he asked, his face grim. "And who told you?"

"Tifa, I'll have you know," Mari snapped. "But I asked her, because I wanted to know more about you. You interested me, a lot. She told me all she knew, which she said was little. You can't even open up to friends you've known for three years, can you?"

Vincent's shoulders dropped. "You should talk," he said bitterly. "And I'm not interested in feeling. Since you've learned so much about me without my knowledge, I will tell you this. I am still alive to atone for my sins, for if it wasn't for me, none of the events of the crisis would have happened. I can no longer feel, because it ruins all--"

"Yeah, I knew you were blaming yourself for all that, but afraid of a little feeling, gunman?" she shrilled, swinging the other at him with all the skill of a two-year-old, and growing more angry as the ebon-haired man easily sidestepped her. "I was too, you know that? I was terrified of feeling again! And now that I am, you have to damn well ruin it for both of us! I'm closer to you than I ever was to anyone, and getting close to people is just something I don't do! What the hell is wrong with you, Vincent?" Her voice cracked. "Tell me! Don't be afraid!"

Vincent dodged her flying fists, which were beginning to glow with the same spell he had seen her practice in the middle of the night, and latched on to her shoulders to keep her still. "Damn it, Mari, stop it!" he commanded, almost pleading as she struggled. "Stay still! You don't understand any of this, and you never will!" His voice rose, completely unnatural for him, and he shook her.

"Yes I do, Vincent! You won't understand yourself! You act like a damn zombie and you don't have to! Vin--!" Mari gasped, jerking against his grip as her face blanched. "Let go, you're hurting me!"

The gunman instantly released her, stunned as tiny rivulets of blood formed where his metal hand's fingertips had been. The blood trickled into the white edge of her towel, blushing it crimson. She physically calmed down at once, but Vincent could see that she was desperately fighting back tears, and he felt an ugly twist of shame deep inside him.

"I...I'm sorry," Vincent murmured, quickly casting Cure. "I didn't mean to hurt you." Curse this clawed hand...

Two crystalline tears dropped from Mari's eyes, and she quickly lowered her head and let her hair curtain her face so they wouldn't be noticed. But Vincent had seen them, and the shame and guilt now felt like a knife twisting in his gut. "Sometimes...I still forget about the sharpness of the hand," he said awkwardly, touching Mari's ivory shoulder as the lacerations faded to pale pink marks. "Don't cry."

The mage's breath was shaky, but she didn't speak. Vincent waited, wishing she would say something, anything. He didn't want her angry with him, but he didn't want her to love him, either. When Mari finally lifted her head, strands of hair were plastered to her sticky cheeks, and her eyes were so beautiful and dark in their pain. "I'm not crying," she whispered uselessly, unable to control her body but too proud to admit to weakness.
Taken aback, Vincent felt a tiny wave of amusement rise inside him and he smiled knowingly. "There is no harm in it," he said softly. His hand curved up the line of her shoulder to her neck, rubbing softly to comfort her, but treating her flesh as though it was made of glass.

Mari's hand reached up, curling behind Vincent's scarred neck, tangling itself in his hair. He tried to hold back his moan of immense pleasure at the touch, but could barely do so. Just for a few seconds, they were the only people in the world. Softly, irresistably, Mari stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the lips. "Chaos scared me, but only for a minute," she whispered. "Once I realized you were in control, I no longer worried. You really are quite beautiful in that form."

Then, just as quickly, she released him and hurried from the room, her head down and her hands tightly clutching her towel around her body. Vincent remained rooted to the spot, so surprised that he couldn't even bring himself to think. Everything left him at once, then fell back into him with a crushing feeling that perfectly drained him to where he had to sit down on the edge of the bed to pull himself together again.

But I'm not even human...and I am beautiful in the form of Chaos, one of the most terrible monsters ever to be known in the worlds? Vincent rested his head in his metal hand, closing his eyes and trying to block out the thoughts that were battering down the fortress of his mind. What the hell am I supposed to do now? I don't have feelings for her, not really...I can't tread these waters now. Never again.

His head snapped up, and he stared at the blood on the razor-sharp fingertips of his hand. "Yes I do," he contradicted aloud, as though in awe. I do have feelings for her, and I think I have since I first laid eyes upon her.

His thoughts blackly whirled. You amazing idiot. Why do this and torture yourself more? Destroy the memory of Lucrecia, the only woman you ever loved? This one will just betray you as much as she did, if you love her...

He slowly wiped the blood on his cloak, which he just as slowly removed and cast onto the bed behind him. Maybe she and Tifa were right. Lucrecia is that--a memory, and a well-made projection in a seaside cave. And maybe Mari would not betray me like Lucrecia did, but...what am I do to? Mari thinks she cares about me, and says she feels close to me. I do not deny that I care about her, but is it possible to love? What is love to a creature--a complete freak--like me? I cannot give her what she needs.

He quickly looked up as a slight shadow passed by his door on the way to the stairs. He had to act now, if he was going to, or she would be gone and he would miss the opportunity. "Mari," he said quietly.

The shadow stopped, and hesitantly appeared in the doorway. Mari was fully dressed and looked ready to leave, trying not to let words inhibit her. "Yes?" she said, her voice still a little unsteady. She wouldn't look at him.

"Come here." Slightly pained and even a little nervous, Vincent watched her move toward him as though drawn by an invisible force, finally meeting his eyes as she reached him. She hates me...she has to hate me.

"Vincent," the mage murmured. "I'm sorry for snapping at you, but I just wish you would realize that people care deeply about you and want to see your pain end. Me, especially. We all have sins to atone for, remember that. Not just you. The whole mess thirty-three years ago wasn't your fault. You couldn't possibly have stopped someone who was so fixated on someone else and thought she was doing good--"

"Silence," Vincent said softly, touching the side of her face with his flesh hand. Her words struck him so hard that he knew exactly what to do, with a clarified mind and a sudden rush of life. "Just come here." He drew Mari to him, finding her completely willing, and gently captured her fragile face in his hands. He tenderly placed his lips on hers, hesitantly, then emboldened himself as she gladly received him; the kiss slowly deepened, pulling her very life into himself.

Mari's breath caught. She ran her hand through his thick hair, caressing his scalp, and the pleasant sensation thrilled through him once more. His knees closed around her legs, pressing her body even closer to him. He couldn't stop kissing her, and the mage didn't seem to want him to stop...why wasn't she rejecting him?

Her arms completely encircled his shoulders, her fingers plowing into the ebony silk on his head and lightly running the fingernails over his skin. Her body relaxed and her lips begged ever more from him; and so he gave, purring with utter pleasure. His own arms went around her waist, and he could feel her heart jumping against her breast. He could feel it radiating from her body: she wanted him. She needed him. He couldn't fathom the thought, but right now he didn't even want to think at all.

"Mari..." he whispered into her mouth. With a sudden thought that frightened him to his core, he realized that he might need her...desperately. After thirty-three years of nothingness, here was something that was hitting him like a tsunami. She was giving him his humanity back. "Mari, I was wrong. You do understand me."

"Vincent." She was pressing forcefully against him; his head swam with dazed pleasure and bewilderment as he allowed himself to be laid on his back with Mari on top of him, their lips and bodies firmly locked together. The blackness inside him began to lift, to pale, to fade to life. It was as though the young mage was healing him from the inside out.


"This is the first time I've ever..." she began, her voice trailing off in a pale moan. Here she was, assertive, and here he was shy. Her first kiss, and his first in quite a long time.

Vincent broke his mouth away and brushed his finger over her tear-moist lips. "I wouldn't know... you're a natural."

The crescent moon outside his open window beamed down its soft light, but neither sharp-eyed gunman or mage took notice of the strange horse-shaped shadow that passed over it and disappeared like a dream.

 

[Tec00n]

I started reading this today and I have to say that this is good .