After Meteorfall
Midgar was not destroyed, and the planet did not die: The impending disaster was absorbed by Lifestream. After an eternity of living from battle to battle, our fellowship was suddenly idle.
It’s not that we didn't have plans. Tifa would return to cooking and serving lunch in her Seventh Heaven. Cloud, on the other hand, could probably not continue as a mercenary. He would have to look for more mundane work. As would Vincent, unless, perhaps, he joined the militia at Nibelheim. (He wore their uniform, and a craftsman from the old days donated the armor.) Barrett was invited back to Corelle, hailed as a favorite son. Cid was now eager to join Shera in Rocket Town, and Nanaki could expect a hero's welcome in Cosmo Canyon. Lord Godor was waiting for Yuffie, ready to welcome her with open arms, eyes peeled for materia.
Me? I wanted to reconnect with my children, all four of them. However, I was still a terrorist in the eyes of my parents, and just another stranger to my boys. Would I be a returning hero, or cast out again, as unsuitable even for motherhood?
Granted: no one would be interested in my neurotic sort of heroism. I couldn't measure up to the comrades who fought alongside me at the North Crater. Not as courageous, nor as skilled. But surely I was entitled to a homecoming, too.
The doubts that crowd my mind (and jangle my nerves) had to be overcome to finish the task at hand. Every one of us had shortcomings that could have aborted the whole quest. Some nearly did. Aerith never made it to the finish line alive, yet she still contributed at the end, just as she had planned, through the Lifestream. The more personal weakness we overcame, the more miraculous the outcome seemed, at least to me.
This diary was begun in the stateroom on the Highwind, and has been re-written since. I'd gone deep into self-curing that time and remained out until daylight, healing some four hours. I could have slept another two days. When I'd reconnoitered with the group, we'd been hovering over Midgar since Meteorfall and were preparing to give the planet a quick once-over, before everyone went separate ways.
While Meteor never actually struck, we could see that damage was widespread throughout the neighborhoods on the upper plate. The conflicting gravities roiled the atmosphere over Midgar, creating strong whirlwinds, even some significant tornados. The city had already been peppered by Diamond Weapon, and was badly shaken by the recoils of the Sister Ray mako cannon, so the storms threw swirling clouds of debris around the city. Reeve urged all residents to seek cover below the plates; anyone foolish enough to disobey was likely killed in the chaos.
In the quiet after Meteorfall, people cautiously sought out their homes to survey the damage, while we watched from the Highwind. It was comforting to see survivors taking stock of their surroundings and preparing to rebuild. The city was almost unrecognizable from above, but each district was at least peaceful; a few would certainly rise again. Reeve could lead the return to normalcy.
For my own peace of mind, I needed to know my children were safe and well. Reeve checked on the kids, and learned they were unharmed. He was told that my daughters had been evacuated either to the Northern Shore with their father, or to Foothills with my parents, and the boys were taken to Kalm to stay with Mrs. Gainesborough and Marlene.
My relief knew no bounds. It was too late to even pray for the children. I had been disabled during the crucial moments of danger; they would believe I'd abandoned them. My first instinct was to seek them out, let them know I had been protecting them. I would eventually reclaim them, this time prepared to deal with anyone who got between us. While Midgar might be a dangerous place, I could certainly rise to the challenge, having survived a near-execution, as well as the final battle against Sephiroth. And I had my friends.
It wasn't apparent that we were instrumental in the salvation of the Planet. The people never understood that Sephiroth intended to annihilate all human life on the Planet. Armageddon was hidden away in the North Crater. Except for the crew of the Highwind, no one was aware of the battle. Lifestream (liberated when we destroyed Sephiroth) moved very visibly in and around Midgar, and would rightly be credited with the rescue. A few higher-ups from Shinra were privy to our work, but we could not count on our safety among the common people, who considered Avalanche the terrorists responsible for Meteorfall.
Nevertheless, my soul longed for a home in the ruins. Midgar would still be the perfect place to rebuild my relationship with the girls. I consider myself a Renaissance-sort of person, enduring by my own wits and skills. The only thing preventing my independence in the past had been frail health. Thanks to Hojo, that would no longer be a problem. This isn't to say I would never be ill, only that I have a fighting chance, same as anyone else. My weak constitution was compensated by youth, an extremely strong will and pro-active nature. I always tried to hold my own against the rest of the world, and I believe I managed. Why else would Hojo want to use me for breeding for SOLDIER, if not to take advantage of my fighter genes?
Never having been a gentle, "girly" girl, I could begin anew without husband or other family, for that matter. Love doesn't conquer all; it doesn't even come close. Now I was on my own, and I looked forward to it.
There was the little seaside hut outside Wutai; Lord Godor gave me the place to make a home. And a sweet chalet on Gold Coast was time-shared by all our fellowship. Furthermore, each of us was wealthy enough to purchase property anywhere on the Planet. I could easily buy a condo near Shinra headquarters. Previously such a place would be well out of reach, even with my husband's salary and mine combined. Now it was simply a matter of choosing and nesting. With all the stores of items we gathered along the way to the North Crater, we were collectively worth about 29 million gil. And that was before we reckoned the materia. Consult with Yuffie, if you'd like a valuation of that: millions and millions, most likely. You should count your fingers and check for your jewelry and personal electronics afterwards.
My comrades had allowed me squatter's rights to the stateroom. Even so, it looked unoccupied: it's not my custom to claim an area with decorations. I prefer to inhabit a place, and then let my lifestyle add to the surroundings. In short, my kit and weapons--my stuff--were on my body, same as my clothes.
I lost a lot of belongings to my ex-husband, to Hojo’s faked laboratory fire, and the hardships of the road, but I also had the ability to more than compensate any loss suffered before Meteorfall. Not many citizens around the planet could make that claim, with the Shinra economy in ruins. Besides, I am not the sum total of a bunch of things.
On top of all that, our time on the road taught me to live sparingly, enjoy food and cleanliness when I could get them, and to ignore any inconvenience that was less than fatal.
So I awoke comfortable with the idea of moving on. I joined the others, and we watched the emergent activity for a while, and then dispersed to various parts of the Highwind. After I posted an entry to my journal, I again checked through the windshield of the cockpit for our position. We'd passed over the ocean beyond Junon, with Lucrecia's waterfall in the distance. It sparkled in the sunlight, rainbows shooting through the mist as we moved slowly over the Central Continent. I would have to wait until we were back over Midgar, and that could take hours.
No matter. I would spend the time exchanging good wishes and farewells with my companions. First, I searched for Yuffie. Did she realize that Godor would probably now arrange a suitable partner for her? They were ninja nobility, if such a thing could be said to exist in today's world, and their line must not die childless. (Ninja nobility: an oxymoron if ever was one. And Yuffie almost a princess! Well, sort of.) At any rate, I wanted to see her reaction when I suggested she faced an arranged marriage in Wutai. That is, if she hadn't already planned some minor torment for me. We had honed our punking and teasing into a fine sport to ease tension and fear on the road. Coudn't wait to find her.
Vincent’s Decision
While I was searching for Yuffie, Captain Cid intercepted me. I should find Vincent before we flew over Nibelheim. He sounded serious and somewhat hesitant. What was the fuss? Surely our Mr. Valentine would return to his son and whatever family remained. I searched high and low. Low and high, actually -- he was standing on the upper deck, wind blowing his hair and mantle. It was quite a sight. My heart skipped a beat, seeing him in full hero mode! Too bad no one got a photograph.
I approached to shout some final farewells. And was once again stopped by Cid.
"Give them a minute, Jo. Unfinished business." He pointed past our hero.
Cait Sith was also on deck, his back to a nearby wall, talking and gesturing. Vincent stood facing the wind, not even acknowledging the cat. After a few minutes, I walked over to them.
"Fini, we decided that you should not venture on your own." Cait was putting on a no-nonsense tone, resulting in a ridiculous parody of Reeve's authority. The wind wasn't helping the impression, either.
"Indeed?" It came out in a most unlady-like snort. "You, God and who else? You're joking, right? Go back to your girls, Reeve! Midgar is mine just as soon as we pass over it." Oh, brother. We were all going to be hoarse from screaming over the whistling air currents and the engines.
"Be reasonable, Fini. You'd best stay with us. The streets are dangerous, with looters and gangs battling to establish territory."
"That’s your job, Mr. Commissioner. See to it to that order is maintained, to protect people like me, so we can rebuild." Sheesh, if I couldn't survive a few criminals after Sephiroth, who could? At that moment, Vincent slipped his cape over my shoulders, in a courtly, elegant motion. I beamed at him, but he looked oddly pensive, almost anxious, leaving me wary, if only a little too late.
"Josephine, enough of this argument in the howling winds. A strong gust will surely sweep you off the deck. Cid, it's settled. She'll come with me for now."
"Nothing is settled, Buster!" But I didn't have time to say more. Cid produced my weapons and handed them to Vincent, who wrapped them into the cape with me, effectively creating a cocoon pinning my arms. Any real thrashing about, and I would be sliced by the unsecured, razor-sharp broadheads. He'd snookered me. Again.
"Bye, Jo. Don’t be a stranger, Sweetie!" Cid patted my cheek, gloating in my irate impotence. I wanted to spit, but Vincent was already rising to the railing and we were over in an instant.
The two of us landed with an audible thump on a grassy plot in an orchard. My human transporter immediately extracted the weapons and restored them to their rightful places on my person. He then slung his cape back onto his own shoulders and put his armored limb around mine. The extra arrows needed to be set safely into the quiver, but my arms were impeded by the massive metal claw. I couldn't shrug it away, so I turned my frustration on him.
"Vincent, this thing is heavy. And where are we now? For crying out loud, have you lost your mind?" I sputtered. There was no point in struggling; the deed was done. I looked into his face for a clue, but his eyes were reddish-brown, and he was calm. With great effort, I closed my mouth and waited for an explanation.
"We were merely wasting time with pointless discussion. Reeve would not permit you free passage through his city until he could be convinced of your safety. Would you prefer to stay with him?" This was a valid question; I did not want to live with Reeve and his twin “girls,” whatever their status. Best to avoid that setup.
We’d landed in the middle of a plantation, and since there was no one else in sight, another tack occurred to me: play on his chivalry. I put both hands on his shoulders, looked wide-eyed up into his face, and pleaded in a low, controlled voice. No whining, just the sound of pure reason.
"Vincent, you, of all people, should know I don't want to be here. Please, let's recall the Highwind, and I'll work out something with Barrett and Cid. It doesn't have to be Midgar; that was just an idea. The kids are too far from Nibelheim to reach them easily. This is Nibelheim, isn't it?"
With a sly smile, he swept his arm around, indicating the orchard.
"These fruit-lands are located just outside the town, most recently forming part of the militia's base. Provided by my son, or more correctly, our family, some years before Sephiroth burned the village. We can stay here at the manor that was owned by my parents. You are familiar with the winery, no doubt?"
"Fruitland's Finest wines? We kept a stock of nearly every variety. All great stuff. My husband especially favored the cognac." Now it was easy to recognize that the tidy rows of trees gave way to vineyards in the foothills. And the winery was right behind. From the mountains to the river was a vision of modern agriculture, orderly and fertile. I wondered that I had not noticed it before. Our group had passed through in Dio's sand buggy, searching for Sephiroth. It was different season, and we were pre-occupied with our quest. Seemed like centuries ago.
A small crowd approached us, red and black uniforms visible in the distance. Vincent hailed them with his armored claw, pulling me closer with his other arm. He spoke evenly, almost nonchalantly to me.
"Allow me to make the introductions. We will be honored guests; I kept them abreast of our progress during my visits." Now his eyes were deep chocolate and smiling, waiting for my approval. I sighed ruefully. Fatigue was already setting in again, and the cold air chilled me to the bones. I would need to rest and recharge. There was nothing left to say, and nothing else to do. Surely this stopover could be easily borne, at least for a while.
It then occurred to me that perhaps this would be my proper homecoming. A welcomed guest! Not too many places would hail me as a returning hero. I began to relax, and smiled back.
I can be such a trusting fool around Vincent.
I approached to shout some final farewells. And was once again stopped by Cid.
"Give them a minute, Jo. Unfinished business." He pointed past our hero.
Cait Sith was also on deck, his back to a nearby wall, talking and gesturing. Vincent stood facing the wind, not even acknowledging the cat. After a few minutes, I walked over to them.
"Fini, we decided that you should not venture on your own." Cait was putting on a no-nonsense tone, resulting in a ridiculous parody of Reeve's authority. The wind wasn't helping the impression, either.
"Indeed?" It came out in a most unlady-like snort. "You, God and who else? You're joking, right? Go back to your girls, Reeve! Midgar is mine just as soon as we pass over it." Oh, brother. We were all going to be hoarse from screaming over the whistling air currents and the engines.
"Be reasonable, Fini. You'd best stay with us. The streets are dangerous, with looters and gangs battling to establish territory."
"That’s your job, Mr. Commissioner. See to it to that order is maintained, to protect people like me, so we can rebuild." Sheesh, if I couldn't survive a few criminals after Sephiroth, who could? At that moment, Vincent slipped his cape over my shoulders, in a courtly, elegant motion. I beamed at him, but he looked oddly pensive, almost anxious, leaving me wary, if only a little too late.
"Josephine, enough of this argument in the howling winds. A strong gust will surely sweep you off the deck. Cid, it's settled. She'll come with me for now."
"Nothing is settled, Buster!" But I didn't have time to say more. Cid produced my weapons and handed them to Vincent, who wrapped them into the cape with me, effectively creating a cocoon pinning my arms. Any real thrashing about, and I would be sliced by the unsecured, razor-sharp broadheads. He'd snookered me. Again.
"Bye, Jo. Don’t be a stranger, Sweetie!" Cid patted my cheek, gloating in my irate impotence. I wanted to spit, but Vincent was already rising to the railing and we were over in an instant.
The two of us landed with an audible thump on a grassy plot in an orchard. My human transporter immediately extracted the weapons and restored them to their rightful places on my person. He then slung his cape back onto his own shoulders and put his armored limb around mine. The extra arrows needed to be set safely into the quiver, but my arms were impeded by the massive metal claw. I couldn't shrug it away, so I turned my frustration on him.
"Vincent, this thing is heavy. And where are we now? For crying out loud, have you lost your mind?" I sputtered. There was no point in struggling; the deed was done. I looked into his face for a clue, but his eyes were reddish-brown, and he was calm. With great effort, I closed my mouth and waited for an explanation.
"We were merely wasting time with pointless discussion. Reeve would not permit you free passage through his city until he could be convinced of your safety. Would you prefer to stay with him?" This was a valid question; I did not want to live with Reeve and his twin “girls,” whatever their status. Best to avoid that setup.
We’d landed in the middle of a plantation, and since there was no one else in sight, another tack occurred to me: play on his chivalry. I put both hands on his shoulders, looked wide-eyed up into his face, and pleaded in a low, controlled voice. No whining, just the sound of pure reason.
"Vincent, you, of all people, should know I don't want to be here. Please, let's recall the Highwind, and I'll work out something with Barrett and Cid. It doesn't have to be Midgar; that was just an idea. The kids are too far from Nibelheim to reach them easily. This is Nibelheim, isn't it?"
With a sly smile, he swept his arm around, indicating the orchard.
"These fruit-lands are located just outside the town, most recently forming part of the militia's base. Provided by my son, or more correctly, our family, some years before Sephiroth burned the village. We can stay here at the manor that was owned by my parents. You are familiar with the winery, no doubt?"
"Fruitland's Finest wines? We kept a stock of nearly every variety. All great stuff. My husband especially favored the cognac." Now it was easy to recognize that the tidy rows of trees gave way to vineyards in the foothills. And the winery was right behind. From the mountains to the river was a vision of modern agriculture, orderly and fertile. I wondered that I had not noticed it before. Our group had passed through in Dio's sand buggy, searching for Sephiroth. It was different season, and we were pre-occupied with our quest. Seemed like centuries ago.
A small crowd approached us, red and black uniforms visible in the distance. Vincent hailed them with his armored claw, pulling me closer with his other arm. He spoke evenly, almost nonchalantly to me.
"Allow me to make the introductions. We will be honored guests; I kept them abreast of our progress during my visits." Now his eyes were deep chocolate and smiling, waiting for my approval. I sighed ruefully. Fatigue was already setting in again, and the cold air chilled me to the bones. I would need to rest and recharge. There was nothing left to say, and nothing else to do. Surely this stopover could be easily borne, at least for a while.
It then occurred to me that perhaps this would be my proper homecoming. A welcomed guest! Not too many places would hail me as a returning hero. I began to relax, and smiled back.
I can be such a trusting fool around Vincent.
Nibelheim: The Militia and the Manor
The Nibelheim Militia
The leader, who also looked to me to be the senior officer, reached out expansively to Vincent, giving him a hearty hug and repeatedly patting his shoulder afterward. He was a large, middle-aged man, standing directly (and rather pointedly) at the side of a similarly dressed woman. For her part, she grabbed my comrade's arms, pulling him close and kissing his lips. Unsettled by all the sudden emotion, I fell back a bit and averted my eyes, but Vincent seemed to expect the show of affection, accepting it somewhat passively, but with good humor.
I tried to keep myself out of the scene. After all, these were people from Vincent's early days. Was it before or after he joined Shinra? I wondered. He'd mentioned military training when he first joined us, in the basement in Nibelheim, but I'd assumed he meant TURKS. I tried to step back a little, hoping to learn some answers in their manner.
But the uniformed lady had already taken both my hands and eagerly pulled me forward. I prepared to duck a kiss, but she was eyeing my weapons.
"Is this the archer? We may have some work for her here. Right, Walt?" The gregarious lady nudged her partner, who gave me the once-over and grinned at my friend.
"She's pretty, Vince. Looks like a keeper to me." The man had taken my elbow, but I pulled away, nervously shaking my head and trying to smile. Trouble already?
"Uh, no. Just here for the short-term, to keep me out of possible trouble in Midgar." I hoped to make light of the whole embarrassing situation. Vincent simply smiled, complacent with his friends' assessment.
He drew me to his side again and said, "Hildy; Walt; this is Josephine Lindorm, our dedicated healer. Josephine, these are friends from my pre-Shinra youth, Hildegarde and Walter Randolph. His sister Eleanora is also a friend of mine." Hugs again, each of them kissing my cheek. Real friendly bunch, this militia. I hoped I didn't seem standoffish, but I was grateful that no one else tried to embrace me. Maybe it was just Vincent's old friends trying to make me feel welcome, but I didn't want them to have the wrong impression of my relationship to their buddy.
The rest of the soldiers remained respectfully at attention as we greeted. Then all proceeded to the compound. It felt strange to walk shoulder to shoulder with so many armed strangers, and not as a prisoner. The vibe was still cautious, as if the rank and file were assessing us visitors. Guarding or protecting? Whatever. Their turf, after all.
Deliberately maintained to look like, and ostensibly to function as, a winery, the base was a beautiful replica of the sort of town one would find in an old woodland community or alpine foothills. Picturesque chalets surrounded a central lodge -- a mansion, really -- all rough-hewn timbers and white stucco exterior. Inside the woodwork and fireplaces felt at once luxurious and intimate.
Maybe I just really needed a nap in front of one of the comfy blazes that were stoked to perfection, heating the great rooms of what looked very much like a ski resort. No snow, not at the moment anyway, just cold, damp, early spring weather. And no tourists, unless one counted Vincent and me.
The warmth made me sleepy, very sleepy. Our hosts took notice and steered me up one side of a graceful central stairway to a sparsely furnished bedroom, also fully paneled and bragging a fireplace just as big as those that warmed the Great Room. They offered me a change of clothes and promised to check in with me later. I barely stripped away my weapons before dropping on top of the coverlet, and was out in a few seconds.
My weapons were gone when I awoke. Nothing else was touched, though, and I figured they had a right to remove any possible danger from outsiders. All was forgiven just as soon as I noticed the adjoining private bath. I had a full suite to myself! First a long, hot shower. Then a leisurely search for my comrade. No hurry at all.
Preparations for the Feast
The towels were thick and fuzzy, a real luxury after the ones we got at the inns, if we ever got any. I snuggled it around my torso and lazily sauntered into the bedroom. There I found Vincent, sans armor, on the edge of the bed, with my everyday shirt in one hand and his red cape in the other. Strange enough to see him without all the bulky metals, but even more so, sitting there holding my unwashed top. It embarrassed me that I left it out, but there didn't seem to be any hamper for dirty laundry. Oh, well, not like it was dripping in sweat or grease. Just no longer fresh, maybe a tad stinky.
"Hello? Did they bunk us together?" My voice did not surprise him, and he turned slowly toward me, looking serious, his eyes' beautiful ruby color deeper than ever.
"Josephine, bathing again? You are washing away your very essence." He sounded disappointed, as though he really meant it. I giggled involuntarily, then recovered as much dignity as I could, wearing only a towel.
"What's it to you? And it's only my first shower. Just one, and it was lovely, with unlimited hot water and Turkish towels. See? May be I'll start a new fashion around here. Seriously, I really hate to put on my old things now." My feminine top was at least clean, to go with my freshly-shampooed hair. All the cleanliness was beginning to make me feel giddy and I flushed with the pleasure of it all. "Hildy offered one of her uniforms, but I didn't feel comfortable wearing it right away. Maybe later when I need something fresh."
Vincent stepped up very close to me and lifted my chin with his knuckle. Felt pretty darned cold after my hot shower, and I flinched just a little bit. He raised an eyebrow, and smiled, but did not release his hold.
"At the moment you don't smell like you. Just soap and shampoo. Also, Josephine, remember that, before long, you will need to rest some more. You are not fully recovered from the last battle with Sephiroth. Go easy on the alcohol and do not revel into the early hours. Don't make me rescue you from another drunk."
That just wasn't funny any more. I changed the subject.
"Hey, aren't you coming to the dinner? And you didn't answer my first question." What was up, now? It wouldn't be much of a party without Vincent there to ease the awkwardness and make the introductions. Maybe I'd give it all a miss. The prospect of an evening meal with strangers was just plain unappetizing.
"These arrangements were according to my wishes." Guess mine were not factored into the equation. I didn't have time to voice my displeasure before he continued, dropping my chin and turning toward the windows.
"Certainly I will attend; my family is preparing the feast. But remember, this is both a military base and a winery. These people work and play very hard. You ought not to be left alone; there will be some lone wolves among the ranks. And, please, personal favor: wear more than a towel. A word to the wise." Now he was smiling again. "Dinner is in one-half hour; you can join me in the dining room when you are ready." He folded his cape over the valet by the closet. Then he unwound his scarf, and set it on the dresser. He left without combing -- or even checking -- his unruly mop in the mirror. Clearly, that was all the preparation he felt necessary.
Vincent never seemed to reek of sweat or dirt, at least not as much as I did. For the first time since we met, it occurred to me that there simply was never any decay about him, not the normal sloughing of dead cells. Not even dandruff! Must've been part of the thirty-year sleep, or maybe the Jenova treatment? No doubt, the family would accept him any way he presented himself.
Nevertheless I felt like the consummate outsider, and would need to dress appropriately for dinner, so as not to offend our hosts. And I wondered what they would think of our sleeping arrangements. All danger now in the past, we were no longer on the road surrounded by enemies. Nor was there any need to share a bed; this mansion would surely have many rooms with plenty of furniture. Obviously, my self-appointed guardian would continue to keep me close at hand. I sighed and returned to my preparations. After all, we had nothing but time.
The woman staring back from the mirror was a mass of long hair and weathered cheeks--actually burnt in battle. That would heal once I got the full rest I needed. Ridiculously ruddy for a woman my age, I thought as I twisted the back locks into a knot, up off my neck. The clean, dry hair begged a few touches of makeup, but it had been so long, I wasn't up to the application. And the last time I wore any cosmetics and perfume was for my disasterous foray into the North Shore tavern, the night-out that first triggered Chastity Belt. I wriggled into the girly top, and spoke to my reflection, remembering the unwelcome greeting.
"Hey, Baby. You don't look so sad to me." Why is it drunks always call women that, even one way too old to be any guy's baby? Oh, well, a few glasses of some really decent wine would make me feel a decade younger. Maybe I'd be the lone wolf, prowling around for prey.
The aroma of kitchen preparations wafted up the grand central stairways. Whatever they were cooking was already making me hungry. And I could afford every calorie I would no doubt stuff down.
And Fruitland's Finest wines! I certainly hoped Vincent wasn't going to monitor and control my imbibing. That would be criminal, given the circumstances.
Couldn't wait to get a glow going.
The leader, who also looked to me to be the senior officer, reached out expansively to Vincent, giving him a hearty hug and repeatedly patting his shoulder afterward. He was a large, middle-aged man, standing directly (and rather pointedly) at the side of a similarly dressed woman. For her part, she grabbed my comrade's arms, pulling him close and kissing his lips. Unsettled by all the sudden emotion, I fell back a bit and averted my eyes, but Vincent seemed to expect the show of affection, accepting it somewhat passively, but with good humor.
I tried to keep myself out of the scene. After all, these were people from Vincent's early days. Was it before or after he joined Shinra? I wondered. He'd mentioned military training when he first joined us, in the basement in Nibelheim, but I'd assumed he meant TURKS. I tried to step back a little, hoping to learn some answers in their manner.
But the uniformed lady had already taken both my hands and eagerly pulled me forward. I prepared to duck a kiss, but she was eyeing my weapons.
"Is this the archer? We may have some work for her here. Right, Walt?" The gregarious lady nudged her partner, who gave me the once-over and grinned at my friend.
"She's pretty, Vince. Looks like a keeper to me." The man had taken my elbow, but I pulled away, nervously shaking my head and trying to smile. Trouble already?
"Uh, no. Just here for the short-term, to keep me out of possible trouble in Midgar." I hoped to make light of the whole embarrassing situation. Vincent simply smiled, complacent with his friends' assessment.
He drew me to his side again and said, "Hildy; Walt; this is Josephine Lindorm, our dedicated healer. Josephine, these are friends from my pre-Shinra youth, Hildegarde and Walter Randolph. His sister Eleanora is also a friend of mine." Hugs again, each of them kissing my cheek. Real friendly bunch, this militia. I hoped I didn't seem standoffish, but I was grateful that no one else tried to embrace me. Maybe it was just Vincent's old friends trying to make me feel welcome, but I didn't want them to have the wrong impression of my relationship to their buddy.
The rest of the soldiers remained respectfully at attention as we greeted. Then all proceeded to the compound. It felt strange to walk shoulder to shoulder with so many armed strangers, and not as a prisoner. The vibe was still cautious, as if the rank and file were assessing us visitors. Guarding or protecting? Whatever. Their turf, after all.
Deliberately maintained to look like, and ostensibly to function as, a winery, the base was a beautiful replica of the sort of town one would find in an old woodland community or alpine foothills. Picturesque chalets surrounded a central lodge -- a mansion, really -- all rough-hewn timbers and white stucco exterior. Inside the woodwork and fireplaces felt at once luxurious and intimate.
Maybe I just really needed a nap in front of one of the comfy blazes that were stoked to perfection, heating the great rooms of what looked very much like a ski resort. No snow, not at the moment anyway, just cold, damp, early spring weather. And no tourists, unless one counted Vincent and me.
The warmth made me sleepy, very sleepy. Our hosts took notice and steered me up one side of a graceful central stairway to a sparsely furnished bedroom, also fully paneled and bragging a fireplace just as big as those that warmed the Great Room. They offered me a change of clothes and promised to check in with me later. I barely stripped away my weapons before dropping on top of the coverlet, and was out in a few seconds.
My weapons were gone when I awoke. Nothing else was touched, though, and I figured they had a right to remove any possible danger from outsiders. All was forgiven just as soon as I noticed the adjoining private bath. I had a full suite to myself! First a long, hot shower. Then a leisurely search for my comrade. No hurry at all.
Preparations for the Feast
The towels were thick and fuzzy, a real luxury after the ones we got at the inns, if we ever got any. I snuggled it around my torso and lazily sauntered into the bedroom. There I found Vincent, sans armor, on the edge of the bed, with my everyday shirt in one hand and his red cape in the other. Strange enough to see him without all the bulky metals, but even more so, sitting there holding my unwashed top. It embarrassed me that I left it out, but there didn't seem to be any hamper for dirty laundry. Oh, well, not like it was dripping in sweat or grease. Just no longer fresh, maybe a tad stinky.
"Hello? Did they bunk us together?" My voice did not surprise him, and he turned slowly toward me, looking serious, his eyes' beautiful ruby color deeper than ever.
"Josephine, bathing again? You are washing away your very essence." He sounded disappointed, as though he really meant it. I giggled involuntarily, then recovered as much dignity as I could, wearing only a towel.
"What's it to you? And it's only my first shower. Just one, and it was lovely, with unlimited hot water and Turkish towels. See? May be I'll start a new fashion around here. Seriously, I really hate to put on my old things now." My feminine top was at least clean, to go with my freshly-shampooed hair. All the cleanliness was beginning to make me feel giddy and I flushed with the pleasure of it all. "Hildy offered one of her uniforms, but I didn't feel comfortable wearing it right away. Maybe later when I need something fresh."
Vincent stepped up very close to me and lifted my chin with his knuckle. Felt pretty darned cold after my hot shower, and I flinched just a little bit. He raised an eyebrow, and smiled, but did not release his hold.
"At the moment you don't smell like you. Just soap and shampoo. Also, Josephine, remember that, before long, you will need to rest some more. You are not fully recovered from the last battle with Sephiroth. Go easy on the alcohol and do not revel into the early hours. Don't make me rescue you from another drunk."
That just wasn't funny any more. I changed the subject.
"Hey, aren't you coming to the dinner? And you didn't answer my first question." What was up, now? It wouldn't be much of a party without Vincent there to ease the awkwardness and make the introductions. Maybe I'd give it all a miss. The prospect of an evening meal with strangers was just plain unappetizing.
"These arrangements were according to my wishes." Guess mine were not factored into the equation. I didn't have time to voice my displeasure before he continued, dropping my chin and turning toward the windows.
"Certainly I will attend; my family is preparing the feast. But remember, this is both a military base and a winery. These people work and play very hard. You ought not to be left alone; there will be some lone wolves among the ranks. And, please, personal favor: wear more than a towel. A word to the wise." Now he was smiling again. "Dinner is in one-half hour; you can join me in the dining room when you are ready." He folded his cape over the valet by the closet. Then he unwound his scarf, and set it on the dresser. He left without combing -- or even checking -- his unruly mop in the mirror. Clearly, that was all the preparation he felt necessary.
Vincent never seemed to reek of sweat or dirt, at least not as much as I did. For the first time since we met, it occurred to me that there simply was never any decay about him, not the normal sloughing of dead cells. Not even dandruff! Must've been part of the thirty-year sleep, or maybe the Jenova treatment? No doubt, the family would accept him any way he presented himself.
Nevertheless I felt like the consummate outsider, and would need to dress appropriately for dinner, so as not to offend our hosts. And I wondered what they would think of our sleeping arrangements. All danger now in the past, we were no longer on the road surrounded by enemies. Nor was there any need to share a bed; this mansion would surely have many rooms with plenty of furniture. Obviously, my self-appointed guardian would continue to keep me close at hand. I sighed and returned to my preparations. After all, we had nothing but time.
The woman staring back from the mirror was a mass of long hair and weathered cheeks--actually burnt in battle. That would heal once I got the full rest I needed. Ridiculously ruddy for a woman my age, I thought as I twisted the back locks into a knot, up off my neck. The clean, dry hair begged a few touches of makeup, but it had been so long, I wasn't up to the application. And the last time I wore any cosmetics and perfume was for my disasterous foray into the North Shore tavern, the night-out that first triggered Chastity Belt. I wriggled into the girly top, and spoke to my reflection, remembering the unwelcome greeting.
"Hey, Baby. You don't look so sad to me." Why is it drunks always call women that, even one way too old to be any guy's baby? Oh, well, a few glasses of some really decent wine would make me feel a decade younger. Maybe I'd be the lone wolf, prowling around for prey.
The aroma of kitchen preparations wafted up the grand central stairways. Whatever they were cooking was already making me hungry. And I could afford every calorie I would no doubt stuff down.
And Fruitland's Finest wines! I certainly hoped Vincent wasn't going to monitor and control my imbibing. That would be criminal, given the circumstances.
Couldn't wait to get a glow going.
Celebrations
Vincent's Homecoming Feast
At first it looked like chaos, rather than an orderly dinner party. Vincent fit in very well with his black clothes, but then, so did I with just my girly top and jeans. The rest of the guests were either uniformed or casual, and were milling about, attentively watching the others and occasionally leaving for the kitchen. Apparently everybody contributed to the preparation and serving of the meal. After a while, one could see that each person would do his or her part and then settle in to eat. I could not see any actual pattern, but it was clear each was expected to participate in both the production and the enjoyment of this banquet. At any other time, I would be in there with the rest of them, working the kitchen and serving the table. This was not my production, though, and the local population were celebrating their homecoming hero, doing it up right.
There was a small line of well-wishers visiting with Vincent, who was holding court next to a few empty places at the center of the table. Each person would either shake his hand or quickly embrace him, or both. Most said nothing at all. For his part, Vincent serenely accepted the affection. I tried to attach myself to the end of the queue, hoping no one would notice me.
I was intercepted by a tall, dark soldier, proffering a tiny glass of aperitif and directing me to a nearby seat. The handsome man left before I could thank him, so I looked around a while at the busy scene, sipping my wine and passively absorbing the activity.
A little later, the soldier sat opposite me, across the board. Dammit, I knew I had to stop staring at him, because he was watching me, too. Should I know him? Most of the people wandering the room's periphery followed his lead, taking their places around the banquet table. Vincent moved to my side, and lifted the little glass from my hand and drained it. I watched him, dumbfounded. Had I somehow gotten his drink? He bowed close to my ear.
"Josephine, go very slowly. There will be a wine served with each course, and other liquor besides. Not to mention after-dinner drinks. Request only half-glasses and sip just some from each. Alcoholism is a lifestyle here."
He then announced to no one in particular, "Can we have a glass for the lady?" Without waiting for acknowledgement, he sat down and tasted his soup. In less than a minute there was a pretty, uniformed server setting a large glass of white wine next to my plate. The attractive soldier smiled at us and asked, "Fish or fowl?"
"Pamela Valentine, I would like you to meet Josephine Lindorm. Josephine, this is my son Victor's bride." Then it occurred to me that the dark gentleman had indeed seemed disturbingly familiar. I looked again across the table, and he was all smiles, watching my reaction. Flustered for the first time since we immersed ourselves in this orderly commotion, I turned to my dinner partner, my cheeks burning.
"Vincent, I never even thanked him for seating me. What he must think of me now!" Vincent shook his head, and motioned for the man to join us. The fellow simply called across the table to him.
"We'll talk later. You must be famished, both of you. We can meet in the Great Room after dinner." Satisfied, Vincent turned to his soup.
In the end, Pamela brought both fish and fowl, without waiting for our answer. We divided the portions between us and dug in. After he finished his own wine, my companion once again drained my glass. This time, I simply watched, again struck by the strange behavior. Never saw him drink a drop before!
Because Nibelheim is a center for agriculture, I expected nothing less than the wide variety of vegetable dishes that began arriving on platter after heaping platter. These the servers simply set along the center of the table, and everyone helped themselves. There were many, many different varieties, but I took only a few spoonfuls from the closest dish of stir-fried greens. In the meantime a new server refilled my glass with a properly dry chardonnay. I quickly drank half, one eye on my partner.
While both entrees were perfectly prepared, I found the fried fish exquisite. Lightly seasoned and crispy all the way through, it was different from the seafood I often ate on the Northern Shore above Midgar. We never fried anything. This was excellent and gone way too soon. I looked about for a server and a new one appeared at my elbow.
"Dessert?" Already? I thought things were moving along rather fast, but this was, after all, a military base. These people were simply efficient, even while eating. We both watched as Vincent emptied my half-glass of chardonnay in one quick swig. I shrugged.
"No dessert, thanks. Could I have a cup of black coffee?"
"Liqueur preference?" Wow! I was beginning to love this place. A tiny, single serving bottle of chocolate creme was delivered with my cup. Vincent touched my wrist and gave me a meaningful nod. He seemed amused, and I blushed again, immediately wary, and looked around.
It was reassuring to note that he was also finished with his dinner, although he declined dessert or coffee. The rest of the diners were still on the main course, eating with gusto but, compared to us, they were showing polite restraint. Mortified, I turned back to Vincent.
"What happened? Are we gluttons or what?"
"We are returning from battle, and have forgotten our table manners. No matter. These people are used to hearty appetites in road warriors." But I was embarrassed at being caught off guard. I said nothing more and gave myself to sipping my coffee. My concerns were baseless, however; no one was watching us. The dinners were quickly gone, replaced by a variety of desserts, and more steaming beverages. A few were accompanied by other tiny bottles, and the air soon filled with the warm scents of coffee, chocolate, anise, creme de menthe and amaretto.
Obviously, I was going to get along very well here, at least at mealtimes.
Fruitland's Victory
Dinner ended just as quickly as it began. Vincent took my arm and propelled me to the adjacent Great Room, where the diners were filing in through the multiple entryways. The handsome soldier couple joined a good looking, older woman in front of a roaring fire. There was a group of teenaged girls nearby, watching their every move, all the while gossiping among themselves.
"Josephine you've already met Pamela and my son Victor. This is his mother Eleanora Randolph, a very good friend of mine from the old days. You two may find that you have much in common. Nora raises chocobos on a seaward ranch outside Nibelheim." The lady handed me a warm drink, and gave Vincent a quick hug. He returned it and moved on, leaving me sniffing the excellent cognac and staring shyly at his family.
"Did you recognize Vincent's son?" His ex was looking at me, amused by my earler discomfort. I had a ready answer.
"Well, yes, after a minute. But he looks enough like you to stymie me at first." Actually they all looked rather similar. Was it because I was already drunk? The inaugural sip of brandy almost startled me by stinging first my tongue, and then my throat. The heat spread to the rest of my insides, making the first mild shock a decidedly pleasant preamble to the rest. I blinked back tears and smiled. Just the way I liked it. It'd been years since my last brandy!
"Good, eh? It's my pet product, my namesake." Victor grinned at me. Apparently my reaction to it was common. I almost mentioned that Fruitland's Victory was probably sitting at that moment in my ex-husband's liquor cabinet. Instead I kept quiet, and raised the glass to him in tribute.
Pamela suddenly bristled at Eleanora. "You shouldn't ambush people like that. The burning catches people off guard."
"Oh, Pammy, she recognizes what it is. From what I've seen so far, Josephine knows her way around the vines." The lady nodded to me approvingly, and raised her own snifter.
Knowing one's way around the vines. How quaint.
"I'm not an expert, but Fruitland's Finest is practically the only brand I've ever drunk." Drunk was right. The fireplace was beginning to heat the room and my head was swimming; way past time to slow down. I looked for a place to set my glass, and was rewarded with a new one, just as warm and full as the last.
Now the little flock of young women were watching me. A pretty, petite gal pushed away from the others. She walked up to me and cut right to the chase.
"Is it true you single-handedly lured Vince into Avalanche?" Where did that come from? It wouldn't do to allow that sort of rumor to rise.
"Uh, no. We didn't actually meet one-on-one until he joined us. Even then, we didn't see him until the day after we finished clearing out the Shinra Mansion." Now I was on guard, and nervously tickled my lips with the snifter's contents. With the greatest effort I could muster, I didn't quite sip the brandy. Instead, I continued to fake it, even though it was becoming more delicious with each taste. Could the vapors themselves intoxicate me?
Where was Vincent when I wanted him to corroborate my recollections? The rest of the young ladies crowded around, peppering me with schoolgirl-ish questions. What was it like in the Mansion; wasn't it scary in the basement? They said they'd heard about our operations there, and a delighted, giggly shudder ran through the group. How did we kill what was already dead? He said he had to shave off a lot of hair; what did he look like before? He's cute now, didn't I think? Did I notice the family resemblance? What did I think about their winery and base? Would I stay and join them in the militia?
At the last two questions, Eleanora abruptly shooed them away, exclaiming, "Fini must be exhausted; don't bother her yet with such nonsense. We can call you Fini, can't we? Your name's like mine: a little too long for friends."
I swirled around to look once more for my missing dinner companion, to rescue me from my own drunkeness. He was nowhere in the Great Room. Party's over, I thought. Eleanora steadied me with one hand, removing the snifter with the other. After studying me a few more seconds, she smiled and returned my drink.
"Deserted you, did he? He's like that, you know." Surprised by the frank assertion, I looked straight at her for the first time. She met my gaze, her brown eyes reminding me a lot of my friend Tifa. Only this lady was darkly beautiful, much like Vincent himself -- and many others in the lodge. There was a certain look to the local people, making me mentally compare Tifa's long, dark hair and Cloud's bright, spiky blond cut. He'd said he was a loner as a child. Was his mother an outsider, like me? If so, a little discretion was in order.
"Vincent keeps to himself. We all do. Shinra really messed up everyone's lives. Similar to what happened here." That said, I clammed up. No one's grief ever compares with that of another: I wouldn't want to intrude, and didn't want any details. Everyone's story has some pretty sad chapters, and no doubt Eleanora's had hers, too, especially where it involved Vincent. She nodded and indicated the bevy of beauties that seemed to belong to her. Arson orphans? Many young people lost family when Sephiroth torched Nibelheim. The girls continued watching us intently, but asked no more questions.
Did I offend already? I should learn to keep my opinions to myself: stick to the facts. My feelings were probably irrelevant to the people around this town. For the first time since we landed in Nibelheim, I began to regret missing my chance to settle in Midgar alone. The happy crowd began to seem unpleasant, full of strangers who could judge me.
At that point, I simply set down my drink, said "Forgive me; I seem to be already in my cups," and headed out to find my room.
Encounter in the Guest Room
The main foyer and grand double stairway was quite cold, compared to the Great Room and dining hall. It felt good to be brought back to reality, and I drew a deep breath of chilly air. How much did I actually drink? Probably didn't eat enough to offset the alcohol, I decided. A hot bath, warm bed and several hours' sleep should clear up any resulting inebriation.
The paneled room was visibly cheered by a small fire. Must have been newly lit, because the suite wasn't yet fully warmed. I sprinted into the cold bathroom, suddenly uncomfortable with all the drink.
During the banquet, my companion had knocked back just about every glass I so much as tasted. It seemed impossible I was drunk, although Himself might have gotten a little happy, if that word could ever apply to Vincent. The bath again beckoned me, so I stripped and began to fill the tub. Couldn't wait to soak again. Then I remembered my embarrassment over the soiled top and collected the clothes from the floor to put in a bag or pillowcase. They were going to think I really was a pig, what with bolting down the meal and leaving dirty laundry all around.
"Please don't tell me you are preparing another bath, Josephine!" This time there was real annoyance in Vincent's tone. He gently pulled me aside, entered the bathroom and abruptly shut the valve. Startled by his sudden presence and vocal attitude, I stepped in behind him and grabbed a towel to wrap around me.
The hot water safely staunched, my roommate slipped off his shirt and moved closer to the fireplace. I remembered the dirty laundry and took a pillowcase from a window seat. Aha! This was just like my parent's place, with built-in storage everywhere, being used in just the same way. Bet there was even a laundry chute. Must be pretty standard with big houses, I thought. Nearly giggled, until I remembered my irate buddy. A little too much alcohol equals inappropriate reactions. Oh well, maybe he'd be faring no better.
"The hell? What bug's bitten you?" I came up behind Vincent and tapped his bare shoulder. Strange to see absolutely no armor, no cape, no scarf, not even shoons. His feet looked small without them.
"No one needs that much bathing. Especially not you." He turned and drew me onto the hearth. The fire felt good, after the pre-emption of my hot bath.
"Look, if it's too noisy when I'm running the water, it can wait. I'm just a little tipsy and wanted to relax before going to bed." Now I felt sheepish, admitting I drank too much after all his warnings.
But Vincent was in a very forgiving mood. He almost smiled and spoke very softly. Usually his voice rasped, even when low, but now his tone and words were silky smooth. Was it the drink?
"I warned you about alcohol and lone wolves. You weren't listening, were you?" What wolves, I wondered. The only ones seriously plying me with alcohol were women. Where were the wolves? I was going to ask Vincent to clarify, but stopped when I saw the ruby color of his eyes. He was actually encouraging me to stare into them. Or maybe I coudn't help myself; the brandy, the gorgeous crimson irises, that wonderful meal, and now, my usually grouchy guardian practically purring at me.
Once again he lifted my chin with his knuckle. Then he kissed my lips deeply enough to hurt, almost bruising them, and long enough, and sweetly enough, to make me forget to breathe. When I remembered and finally took some air, he was finished, drawing back and gazing at me. He seemed to be waiting.
Oh.
I decided he could make the next move.
He tugged gently at the towel, releasing the tuck, and let it fall to the floor. Then he reached up to undo my hair, purring again in that silken tone.
"There. Now would you like to help me with my things?"
Yeah, I was thinking I might like to do that.
At first it looked like chaos, rather than an orderly dinner party. Vincent fit in very well with his black clothes, but then, so did I with just my girly top and jeans. The rest of the guests were either uniformed or casual, and were milling about, attentively watching the others and occasionally leaving for the kitchen. Apparently everybody contributed to the preparation and serving of the meal. After a while, one could see that each person would do his or her part and then settle in to eat. I could not see any actual pattern, but it was clear each was expected to participate in both the production and the enjoyment of this banquet. At any other time, I would be in there with the rest of them, working the kitchen and serving the table. This was not my production, though, and the local population were celebrating their homecoming hero, doing it up right.
There was a small line of well-wishers visiting with Vincent, who was holding court next to a few empty places at the center of the table. Each person would either shake his hand or quickly embrace him, or both. Most said nothing at all. For his part, Vincent serenely accepted the affection. I tried to attach myself to the end of the queue, hoping no one would notice me.
I was intercepted by a tall, dark soldier, proffering a tiny glass of aperitif and directing me to a nearby seat. The handsome man left before I could thank him, so I looked around a while at the busy scene, sipping my wine and passively absorbing the activity.
A little later, the soldier sat opposite me, across the board. Dammit, I knew I had to stop staring at him, because he was watching me, too. Should I know him? Most of the people wandering the room's periphery followed his lead, taking their places around the banquet table. Vincent moved to my side, and lifted the little glass from my hand and drained it. I watched him, dumbfounded. Had I somehow gotten his drink? He bowed close to my ear.
"Josephine, go very slowly. There will be a wine served with each course, and other liquor besides. Not to mention after-dinner drinks. Request only half-glasses and sip just some from each. Alcoholism is a lifestyle here."
He then announced to no one in particular, "Can we have a glass for the lady?" Without waiting for acknowledgement, he sat down and tasted his soup. In less than a minute there was a pretty, uniformed server setting a large glass of white wine next to my plate. The attractive soldier smiled at us and asked, "Fish or fowl?"
"Pamela Valentine, I would like you to meet Josephine Lindorm. Josephine, this is my son Victor's bride." Then it occurred to me that the dark gentleman had indeed seemed disturbingly familiar. I looked again across the table, and he was all smiles, watching my reaction. Flustered for the first time since we immersed ourselves in this orderly commotion, I turned to my dinner partner, my cheeks burning.
"Vincent, I never even thanked him for seating me. What he must think of me now!" Vincent shook his head, and motioned for the man to join us. The fellow simply called across the table to him.
"We'll talk later. You must be famished, both of you. We can meet in the Great Room after dinner." Satisfied, Vincent turned to his soup.
In the end, Pamela brought both fish and fowl, without waiting for our answer. We divided the portions between us and dug in. After he finished his own wine, my companion once again drained my glass. This time, I simply watched, again struck by the strange behavior. Never saw him drink a drop before!
Because Nibelheim is a center for agriculture, I expected nothing less than the wide variety of vegetable dishes that began arriving on platter after heaping platter. These the servers simply set along the center of the table, and everyone helped themselves. There were many, many different varieties, but I took only a few spoonfuls from the closest dish of stir-fried greens. In the meantime a new server refilled my glass with a properly dry chardonnay. I quickly drank half, one eye on my partner.
While both entrees were perfectly prepared, I found the fried fish exquisite. Lightly seasoned and crispy all the way through, it was different from the seafood I often ate on the Northern Shore above Midgar. We never fried anything. This was excellent and gone way too soon. I looked about for a server and a new one appeared at my elbow.
"Dessert?" Already? I thought things were moving along rather fast, but this was, after all, a military base. These people were simply efficient, even while eating. We both watched as Vincent emptied my half-glass of chardonnay in one quick swig. I shrugged.
"No dessert, thanks. Could I have a cup of black coffee?"
"Liqueur preference?" Wow! I was beginning to love this place. A tiny, single serving bottle of chocolate creme was delivered with my cup. Vincent touched my wrist and gave me a meaningful nod. He seemed amused, and I blushed again, immediately wary, and looked around.
It was reassuring to note that he was also finished with his dinner, although he declined dessert or coffee. The rest of the diners were still on the main course, eating with gusto but, compared to us, they were showing polite restraint. Mortified, I turned back to Vincent.
"What happened? Are we gluttons or what?"
"We are returning from battle, and have forgotten our table manners. No matter. These people are used to hearty appetites in road warriors." But I was embarrassed at being caught off guard. I said nothing more and gave myself to sipping my coffee. My concerns were baseless, however; no one was watching us. The dinners were quickly gone, replaced by a variety of desserts, and more steaming beverages. A few were accompanied by other tiny bottles, and the air soon filled with the warm scents of coffee, chocolate, anise, creme de menthe and amaretto.
Obviously, I was going to get along very well here, at least at mealtimes.
Fruitland's Victory
Dinner ended just as quickly as it began. Vincent took my arm and propelled me to the adjacent Great Room, where the diners were filing in through the multiple entryways. The handsome soldier couple joined a good looking, older woman in front of a roaring fire. There was a group of teenaged girls nearby, watching their every move, all the while gossiping among themselves.
"Josephine you've already met Pamela and my son Victor. This is his mother Eleanora Randolph, a very good friend of mine from the old days. You two may find that you have much in common. Nora raises chocobos on a seaward ranch outside Nibelheim." The lady handed me a warm drink, and gave Vincent a quick hug. He returned it and moved on, leaving me sniffing the excellent cognac and staring shyly at his family.
"Did you recognize Vincent's son?" His ex was looking at me, amused by my earler discomfort. I had a ready answer.
"Well, yes, after a minute. But he looks enough like you to stymie me at first." Actually they all looked rather similar. Was it because I was already drunk? The inaugural sip of brandy almost startled me by stinging first my tongue, and then my throat. The heat spread to the rest of my insides, making the first mild shock a decidedly pleasant preamble to the rest. I blinked back tears and smiled. Just the way I liked it. It'd been years since my last brandy!
"Good, eh? It's my pet product, my namesake." Victor grinned at me. Apparently my reaction to it was common. I almost mentioned that Fruitland's Victory was probably sitting at that moment in my ex-husband's liquor cabinet. Instead I kept quiet, and raised the glass to him in tribute.
Pamela suddenly bristled at Eleanora. "You shouldn't ambush people like that. The burning catches people off guard."
"Oh, Pammy, she recognizes what it is. From what I've seen so far, Josephine knows her way around the vines." The lady nodded to me approvingly, and raised her own snifter.
Knowing one's way around the vines. How quaint.
"I'm not an expert, but Fruitland's Finest is practically the only brand I've ever drunk." Drunk was right. The fireplace was beginning to heat the room and my head was swimming; way past time to slow down. I looked for a place to set my glass, and was rewarded with a new one, just as warm and full as the last.
Now the little flock of young women were watching me. A pretty, petite gal pushed away from the others. She walked up to me and cut right to the chase.
"Is it true you single-handedly lured Vince into Avalanche?" Where did that come from? It wouldn't do to allow that sort of rumor to rise.
"Uh, no. We didn't actually meet one-on-one until he joined us. Even then, we didn't see him until the day after we finished clearing out the Shinra Mansion." Now I was on guard, and nervously tickled my lips with the snifter's contents. With the greatest effort I could muster, I didn't quite sip the brandy. Instead, I continued to fake it, even though it was becoming more delicious with each taste. Could the vapors themselves intoxicate me?
Where was Vincent when I wanted him to corroborate my recollections? The rest of the young ladies crowded around, peppering me with schoolgirl-ish questions. What was it like in the Mansion; wasn't it scary in the basement? They said they'd heard about our operations there, and a delighted, giggly shudder ran through the group. How did we kill what was already dead? He said he had to shave off a lot of hair; what did he look like before? He's cute now, didn't I think? Did I notice the family resemblance? What did I think about their winery and base? Would I stay and join them in the militia?
At the last two questions, Eleanora abruptly shooed them away, exclaiming, "Fini must be exhausted; don't bother her yet with such nonsense. We can call you Fini, can't we? Your name's like mine: a little too long for friends."
I swirled around to look once more for my missing dinner companion, to rescue me from my own drunkeness. He was nowhere in the Great Room. Party's over, I thought. Eleanora steadied me with one hand, removing the snifter with the other. After studying me a few more seconds, she smiled and returned my drink.
"Deserted you, did he? He's like that, you know." Surprised by the frank assertion, I looked straight at her for the first time. She met my gaze, her brown eyes reminding me a lot of my friend Tifa. Only this lady was darkly beautiful, much like Vincent himself -- and many others in the lodge. There was a certain look to the local people, making me mentally compare Tifa's long, dark hair and Cloud's bright, spiky blond cut. He'd said he was a loner as a child. Was his mother an outsider, like me? If so, a little discretion was in order.
"Vincent keeps to himself. We all do. Shinra really messed up everyone's lives. Similar to what happened here." That said, I clammed up. No one's grief ever compares with that of another: I wouldn't want to intrude, and didn't want any details. Everyone's story has some pretty sad chapters, and no doubt Eleanora's had hers, too, especially where it involved Vincent. She nodded and indicated the bevy of beauties that seemed to belong to her. Arson orphans? Many young people lost family when Sephiroth torched Nibelheim. The girls continued watching us intently, but asked no more questions.
Did I offend already? I should learn to keep my opinions to myself: stick to the facts. My feelings were probably irrelevant to the people around this town. For the first time since we landed in Nibelheim, I began to regret missing my chance to settle in Midgar alone. The happy crowd began to seem unpleasant, full of strangers who could judge me.
At that point, I simply set down my drink, said "Forgive me; I seem to be already in my cups," and headed out to find my room.
Encounter in the Guest Room
The main foyer and grand double stairway was quite cold, compared to the Great Room and dining hall. It felt good to be brought back to reality, and I drew a deep breath of chilly air. How much did I actually drink? Probably didn't eat enough to offset the alcohol, I decided. A hot bath, warm bed and several hours' sleep should clear up any resulting inebriation.
The paneled room was visibly cheered by a small fire. Must have been newly lit, because the suite wasn't yet fully warmed. I sprinted into the cold bathroom, suddenly uncomfortable with all the drink.
During the banquet, my companion had knocked back just about every glass I so much as tasted. It seemed impossible I was drunk, although Himself might have gotten a little happy, if that word could ever apply to Vincent. The bath again beckoned me, so I stripped and began to fill the tub. Couldn't wait to soak again. Then I remembered my embarrassment over the soiled top and collected the clothes from the floor to put in a bag or pillowcase. They were going to think I really was a pig, what with bolting down the meal and leaving dirty laundry all around.
"Please don't tell me you are preparing another bath, Josephine!" This time there was real annoyance in Vincent's tone. He gently pulled me aside, entered the bathroom and abruptly shut the valve. Startled by his sudden presence and vocal attitude, I stepped in behind him and grabbed a towel to wrap around me.
The hot water safely staunched, my roommate slipped off his shirt and moved closer to the fireplace. I remembered the dirty laundry and took a pillowcase from a window seat. Aha! This was just like my parent's place, with built-in storage everywhere, being used in just the same way. Bet there was even a laundry chute. Must be pretty standard with big houses, I thought. Nearly giggled, until I remembered my irate buddy. A little too much alcohol equals inappropriate reactions. Oh well, maybe he'd be faring no better.
"The hell? What bug's bitten you?" I came up behind Vincent and tapped his bare shoulder. Strange to see absolutely no armor, no cape, no scarf, not even shoons. His feet looked small without them.
"No one needs that much bathing. Especially not you." He turned and drew me onto the hearth. The fire felt good, after the pre-emption of my hot bath.
"Look, if it's too noisy when I'm running the water, it can wait. I'm just a little tipsy and wanted to relax before going to bed." Now I felt sheepish, admitting I drank too much after all his warnings.
But Vincent was in a very forgiving mood. He almost smiled and spoke very softly. Usually his voice rasped, even when low, but now his tone and words were silky smooth. Was it the drink?
"I warned you about alcohol and lone wolves. You weren't listening, were you?" What wolves, I wondered. The only ones seriously plying me with alcohol were women. Where were the wolves? I was going to ask Vincent to clarify, but stopped when I saw the ruby color of his eyes. He was actually encouraging me to stare into them. Or maybe I coudn't help myself; the brandy, the gorgeous crimson irises, that wonderful meal, and now, my usually grouchy guardian practically purring at me.
Once again he lifted my chin with his knuckle. Then he kissed my lips deeply enough to hurt, almost bruising them, and long enough, and sweetly enough, to make me forget to breathe. When I remembered and finally took some air, he was finished, drawing back and gazing at me. He seemed to be waiting.
Oh.
I decided he could make the next move.
He tugged gently at the towel, releasing the tuck, and let it fall to the floor. Then he reached up to undo my hair, purring again in that silken tone.
"There. Now would you like to help me with my things?"
Yeah, I was thinking I might like to do that.
Jenova's Joke, Or Hojo's Revenge
And so our little dance began. Caught completely off-guard, I was slow to respond to his advances. And Vincent was surprisingly direct. I wondered if he could be as drunk as I. But he knew what he wanted, and didn't seem the least bit hesitant or questioning. He smiled a little half-smile, looking pleased when I finally reciprocated with a timid return-kiss, trying to avoid his evening stubble. He gloried in my surprised submissiveness, returning my little peck with an urgency that again crushed my lips and chin.
Frankly, that sort of thing was not even on my radar. When I left the Great Room, all I had wanted was a hot bath and the bed to myself.
Still, once peeled, my shyness (whatever was left after the initial astonishment) evaporated. And finally his insistence on sharing the bedroll over the past few weeks made sense.
My partner was now more serious than ever, murmuring short explanations.
"Whatever it would take to keep you at my side, I was willing to do it." Just then, I was willing to forgive any past hurt and anybody, especially Vincent, as long as he kept his arms comfy-tight around me.
"Did you think I was imprisoning you to make you miserable?" Well, I certainly wasn't miserable now. Or feeling restrained against my will. At the moment, couldn't get close enough to him.
Again he was purring, that rare twinkle in his eyes. "You were becoming irritated at the very sight of me. I was afraid I would drive you into another's arms."
Oh, really? Who would that be? I asked, but it was a coy question. I knew who, and Vincent didn't answer, except to shush me. He caressed and cuddled some more until I was ready for just about anything he had in mind.
Self-healing had removed every scar, every blemish from my body. I was glad to have a youngish physique and the corresponding stamina, more so because the rigors of the road left me slimmer than I'd been since my teens. Not skinny by anyone's definition, but healthy. Must have been all that hiking, or maybe it was the treatment, whatever that was, begun by Hojo.
Regardless of how I got there, my body was still my body, minus all the wear and tear of the previous decades. There even remained some of the lines I had when I was young. For instance, there's a tiny, shallow crease between my eyebrows, a little to the right. Not really a frown line, as long as I don't frown. Maybe just a character line, still there, along with the ones that also appear when I scrunch up my face to laugh or smile.
So, I still looked like me. But some things were different; stronger, maybe heartier would be a good general description of my insides. Unfortunately, Jenova and the mako infusion were indiscriminate, not picking and choosing, and surely not consulting me beforehand.
Then came the punch line. And it wasn't funny.
Things were warmly romantic, and I was getting lost in the bliss, when my eyes popped open wide, really wide, and I heard myself gasp. Vincent drew back immediately. He looked a little sheepish, then he searched my face. He continued to speak in a low, soothing whisper, kissing me gently and stroking my chin and cheek.
"Well, Josephine, that shouldn't surprise you."
"But. But I..." Again with the sputtering. I was embarrassed and outraged. No one needs to lose their virginity twice in a lifetime!
Of course. Why hadn't I guessed? Everything else had healed. Except for a very brief, almost (though not quite!) sympathetic sniff at my bewilderment, Vincent continued to soothe me with his silken words and caresses. I felt betrayed, tricked by the Jenova treatment. He, on the other hand, seemed to have expected such a development.
With his leisurely, almost infinite patience and gentleness, persistence triumphed, and we were able to enjoy the rest of our evening together. It was one of those unexpected little coups that would continually surprise me about Vincent. He guessed that it could be a possibility, and knew just what to do.
"How could you have known? You're an expert on such things?" I was only half joking, the problem safely in the past, and our idyllic evening rescued from Jenova's interference.
"Josephine, didn't Reeve give you a record of Hojo's experiments? He had a file compiled regarding those done on my own body..."
"But how do you know about mine? What did he show you?"
"That would have been very indelicate of Reeve; it didn't happen. You did get a file. You ran it, didn't you?" He was almost scolding; he already guessed the answer.
"It upset me to watch it, so I stopped. Hojo went on and on about the conditions prior to the experiments and the projected results. Reeve was with me at the time, so we shut it off."
"And you never played it again. It doesn't take a genius to conclude that he was preparing you for breeding. And not entirely in vitro or with just anybody. He wanted to enjoy you himself; you were going to be his Latest Lucrecia."
"But I thought I was, already."
He hesitated. "Josephine. Hojo never tricked Lucrecia. She actively and willingly participated in Sephiroth's conception." That never occurred to me. My theories included subterfuge, like he used on me. At that moment, I despised Lucrecia; she was no better than Hojo. Vincent saw my reaction and voiced his disapproval.
"That was over thirty years ago. Hojo was younger, a powerful up-and-comer in Shinra, willing to do anything and use anybody to further his designs. Don't judge her too harshly, until you have all the facts. And you know, Josephine, we may never get all the facts. The files are incomplete; at least, mine are." He seemed peeved by my sudden anger, and we stopped the discussion. I didn't want the evening ruined by ancient history. Surely, of all the people on the Planet, we should know that no one can live in the past and remain sane.
In an effort to recapture our previous intimacy, I reached up to him. His hair looked soft and shiny, and I began to run my fingers through it. This time it was smooth, recently combed, free of snarls. Vincent watched me, whispering that he remembered when I groomed him in the stateroom of the Highwind.
"You see, Josephine? You are not my mother." I chuckled silently and buried my face into a handful of the shiny stuff. Clean, as always. When did he ever bathe or primp? I never saw. I'd have to ask him, some day. Just not yet; I was afraid that I knew the answer.
He cuddled me until I became sleepy. Then we kissed some more and wished one another peaceful dreams. Couldn't help but wonder if any dream could be peaceful after the night's revelations. Viewing the files went to the top of my "to do" list. After a good night's rest, at least.
With a few satisfied sighs, I began to doze, cuddled against my new lover. For the first time since we met, I actually enjoyed sleeping in Vincent's arms.
Frankly, that sort of thing was not even on my radar. When I left the Great Room, all I had wanted was a hot bath and the bed to myself.
Still, once peeled, my shyness (whatever was left after the initial astonishment) evaporated. And finally his insistence on sharing the bedroll over the past few weeks made sense.
My partner was now more serious than ever, murmuring short explanations.
"Whatever it would take to keep you at my side, I was willing to do it." Just then, I was willing to forgive any past hurt and anybody, especially Vincent, as long as he kept his arms comfy-tight around me.
"Did you think I was imprisoning you to make you miserable?" Well, I certainly wasn't miserable now. Or feeling restrained against my will. At the moment, couldn't get close enough to him.
Again he was purring, that rare twinkle in his eyes. "You were becoming irritated at the very sight of me. I was afraid I would drive you into another's arms."
Oh, really? Who would that be? I asked, but it was a coy question. I knew who, and Vincent didn't answer, except to shush me. He caressed and cuddled some more until I was ready for just about anything he had in mind.
Self-healing had removed every scar, every blemish from my body. I was glad to have a youngish physique and the corresponding stamina, more so because the rigors of the road left me slimmer than I'd been since my teens. Not skinny by anyone's definition, but healthy. Must have been all that hiking, or maybe it was the treatment, whatever that was, begun by Hojo.
Regardless of how I got there, my body was still my body, minus all the wear and tear of the previous decades. There even remained some of the lines I had when I was young. For instance, there's a tiny, shallow crease between my eyebrows, a little to the right. Not really a frown line, as long as I don't frown. Maybe just a character line, still there, along with the ones that also appear when I scrunch up my face to laugh or smile.
So, I still looked like me. But some things were different; stronger, maybe heartier would be a good general description of my insides. Unfortunately, Jenova and the mako infusion were indiscriminate, not picking and choosing, and surely not consulting me beforehand.
Then came the punch line. And it wasn't funny.
Things were warmly romantic, and I was getting lost in the bliss, when my eyes popped open wide, really wide, and I heard myself gasp. Vincent drew back immediately. He looked a little sheepish, then he searched my face. He continued to speak in a low, soothing whisper, kissing me gently and stroking my chin and cheek.
"Well, Josephine, that shouldn't surprise you."
"But. But I..." Again with the sputtering. I was embarrassed and outraged. No one needs to lose their virginity twice in a lifetime!
Of course. Why hadn't I guessed? Everything else had healed. Except for a very brief, almost (though not quite!) sympathetic sniff at my bewilderment, Vincent continued to soothe me with his silken words and caresses. I felt betrayed, tricked by the Jenova treatment. He, on the other hand, seemed to have expected such a development.
With his leisurely, almost infinite patience and gentleness, persistence triumphed, and we were able to enjoy the rest of our evening together. It was one of those unexpected little coups that would continually surprise me about Vincent. He guessed that it could be a possibility, and knew just what to do.
"How could you have known? You're an expert on such things?" I was only half joking, the problem safely in the past, and our idyllic evening rescued from Jenova's interference.
"Josephine, didn't Reeve give you a record of Hojo's experiments? He had a file compiled regarding those done on my own body..."
"But how do you know about mine? What did he show you?"
"That would have been very indelicate of Reeve; it didn't happen. You did get a file. You ran it, didn't you?" He was almost scolding; he already guessed the answer.
"It upset me to watch it, so I stopped. Hojo went on and on about the conditions prior to the experiments and the projected results. Reeve was with me at the time, so we shut it off."
"And you never played it again. It doesn't take a genius to conclude that he was preparing you for breeding. And not entirely in vitro or with just anybody. He wanted to enjoy you himself; you were going to be his Latest Lucrecia."
"But I thought I was, already."
He hesitated. "Josephine. Hojo never tricked Lucrecia. She actively and willingly participated in Sephiroth's conception." That never occurred to me. My theories included subterfuge, like he used on me. At that moment, I despised Lucrecia; she was no better than Hojo. Vincent saw my reaction and voiced his disapproval.
"That was over thirty years ago. Hojo was younger, a powerful up-and-comer in Shinra, willing to do anything and use anybody to further his designs. Don't judge her too harshly, until you have all the facts. And you know, Josephine, we may never get all the facts. The files are incomplete; at least, mine are." He seemed peeved by my sudden anger, and we stopped the discussion. I didn't want the evening ruined by ancient history. Surely, of all the people on the Planet, we should know that no one can live in the past and remain sane.
In an effort to recapture our previous intimacy, I reached up to him. His hair looked soft and shiny, and I began to run my fingers through it. This time it was smooth, recently combed, free of snarls. Vincent watched me, whispering that he remembered when I groomed him in the stateroom of the Highwind.
"You see, Josephine? You are not my mother." I chuckled silently and buried my face into a handful of the shiny stuff. Clean, as always. When did he ever bathe or primp? I never saw. I'd have to ask him, some day. Just not yet; I was afraid that I knew the answer.
He cuddled me until I became sleepy. Then we kissed some more and wished one another peaceful dreams. Couldn't help but wonder if any dream could be peaceful after the night's revelations. Viewing the files went to the top of my "to do" list. After a good night's rest, at least.
With a few satisfied sighs, I began to doze, cuddled against my new lover. For the first time since we met, I actually enjoyed sleeping in Vincent's arms.
The Damascene Band
Reveille in Nibelheim
I awoke facing a dark fireplace: definitely not cheering or romantic. Morning was the first time, too, that I noticed the eight-foot windows, streaming with the bright sun. We hadn’t used the coverlet or quilts, so the sunbeams alone warmed me. The drapes were fully open. It would seem we didn’t remember to shut them the night before.
We never wore night-clothes on the road, but then again, neither did we sleep in the all together. My nakedness felt very strange in the full morning light, and I resolved to shower immediately and wear the uniform lent me by our hosts. While it was nice to have a plan, I still reached for Vincent, hoping he would have other ideas.
His side of the bed was empty, and his clothes gone with him.
Suddenly bereft of my lover, I nevertheless remembered that yesterday I would have been tickled pink to find the bed was mine alone.
Once that minor shock passed, I reconciled to a morning by myself. As usual when things did not go my way, I would “change gears” and reorient. The best therapy for me is always work, housekeeping, hunting and archery practice. Yeah, a combination of the four. If I remained in the militia, there would no doubt be plenty of work for me, but probably not just yet. This mansion and the other buildings were already under the care of experts, spotlessly clean and properly appointed, to say the least. Frankly, on the road I'd had enough of hunting to last a lifetime. So archery remained the only choice, at least until I had a better idea of how I felt about all that had recently happened.
It worried me that I felt depressed, almost weepy, on such a beautiful morning. Never did we say anything to one another that would lead to any sort of union, temporary or otherwise. Nor was it expected or even wanted. Not the clingy sort, I don't think, either of us. But I still craved a cuddle and some breakfast in bed with my lover. Even a "Thank you--Goodbye!" would have been nice. But it didn't happen.
“He’s like that, you know.” Of course. I remembered.
Clearly we did not share the same values. Truth was, I had no idea what Vincent's values were, except that he was always beating himself up over supposed sins and trivial transgressions. He would, I guess, be the shadow, the phantom, "coming and going like the wind," accountable to no one but himself. Feeling guilty, but still continuing on as always. It seemed bizarre that he would even consider any sort of intimacy appropriate with that attitude. But what "that attitude" was, what he was really thinking, I doubted I would ever know.
After my shower, some basic grooming (combing through all that long wavy hair!), and a short period of tidying, I was ready to move on. My clothes had disappeared with the nighttime, and I first wandered about wearing my towel. The loaned jumpsuit was made for a fairly curvaceous person. And that person would be Pamela Valentine, not Josey Lindorm. Even her name sounded curvier. Rather snug in the butt and loose in the bust, it pretty much showcased my figure flaws, although the length seemed fine. It would do until I found my other things. I hoped they were being laundered, and planned to look for them later in the day.
The bright sun beckoned. To be honest, my hangover needed some fresh air and activity. Wine sometimes does that to me: not so much a headache, as a queasy stomach and a voracious appetite. Heck of a combination. I wandered down the central foyer looking for breakfast.
It was too late to join in morning mess; the place was deserted. In the dining hall there were still pots of hot beverages and some leftover pastries. I ate a tiny bite of a muffin that tasted of cheese and fruit, and decided it would be better to wait until I could buy a hot meal.
First, I would locate and reacquire my equipment. Then I could plan some sort of itinerary.
Armament and Transport
The armory was housed in the prettiest chalet in the compound, one that would be more appropriate as a honeymoon cottage in a resort. The quartermaster looked askance until I introduced myself.
"You sure?" He grinned and pointed to my name patch.
Apparently Mrs. Valentine removed only the unnecessary (or maybe no longer correct) insignia. Should have checked, but I honestly gave it no thought. I let out a short laugh, and the soldier echoed it.
"They told me to watch for you, Ms. Lindorm. We have your recurve, arrows and broadheads. You want them all, or are you looking for target practice? May as well tell you that we have no archery here, although the rifle range is just outside the compound, to the west."
This was going to be much easier than I thought. The arrows were transferred to me, along with the rest of my kit. If I had to hike, I would need the broadheads, as well as target tips, so I collected everything they had.
"I know where to practice, thanks. Hey, what's with the handgun?" It was in the same cubby as my other weapons. The quartermaster went back again and returned with Quicksilver.
"Vincent told us this was yours, if you wanted. Right now, we don't have extra ammunition for it, though, just what he left." While I could easily carry the handgun, I finally decided to leave it in the armory. Not enough rounds to justify the weight of the weapon itself. And I hated the noise and acrid smoke of firearms. Sweet of Vincent to think of me; I said as much, thanked the soldier, and left.
By the time I walked from the compound towards the village, my mood had lifted. I was pleased to see the same sparkling morning as when Vincent and I first shook hands in front of the inn, many months ago. Just for nostalgia, I looked around the town, strolling past the Shinra Mansion and out towards Mt. Nibel. The Mansion looked deserted and completely derelict; apparently no one thought it presented a good rehab project. I did, though, and made a mental note to look into it later. A soldier stood guard in front of the main entrance, but I decided any questions I had could wait until later.
It was soon clear that a trip to Mt. Nibel and the reactor was out of the question. I had no desire to walk in the bitter cold of the hills. The breeze was absolutely glacial and in no time my feet were freezing. I trotted back into Nibelheim and stopped for a quick cocoa at the inn to warm my insides.
When I finally exited east of the village, I headed to where we hid the buggy given us by Dio, owner of the Gold Saucer and the sands below. It had been a peace offering, sort of an apology, to atone for our nasty imprisonment in his desert town. Couldn't believe my good fortune! How did it escape being scavenged by a wandering thief?
A thief like me, for instance. Of course I had no key. The buggy was simple, stripped down to basics, so I reached into the steering column and easily pulled out the wiring.
That's when I first noticed the Damascene band. Twenty years of wearing a
wedding ring caused me to simply accept it on my finger. A love-gift from Vincent? Didn't matter; it had to go back. We'd already been over this once before. The pretty trinket was much too intimate a present for anyone but a life partner. And we were definitely not life partners. One night’s loving does not a marriage make. Besides, no more of that stuff for this lady.
I tucked the band into a side pocket of my quiver; it would be necessary to wear it again after the wiring was done. Otherwise I was guaranteed to lose the darned thing in battle.
A little trial and error with the wires, and I was on my way.
The buggy not only didn't protect me from the hostile creatures I encountered, it alerted them to my coming. Lord, how I hate noisy things! But the weapons maker was a good distance past Gongaga, and I had no intention of walking the whole way.
The inviting sight of Cosmo Canyon ahead gave me a quick twinge of regret, but I had resolved not to stop over anywhere until I reached the other side of the continent. Otherwise, it made a good marker for the half-way point of my trip.
The warm sands were a welcome contrast to the chill winds and dampness of Spring in Nibel. Most of the creatures in the Cosmo area ignored me, but the Skeeskee showed up in flocks to run alongside the buggy, giving up when I raced them outside the desert edges. In fact, I was so sure that the hyper little birds were only interested in trying to beat the buggy that I played with them a while, running the vehicle back to the western river to try again. It was heartening to learn that it wasn't necessary to kill everything I encountered. Finally, I beeped the horn twice, revved the engine, and left them in my dust.
Not all creatures were willing to peacefully coexist: it wasn't their nature. This was especially true of the woodland animals. They were vicious, particularly aggressive; the buggy didn't frighten them, and they targeted me every time I drove through a clearing.
The most annoying enemies were the singing frogs. Usually they couldn't get past my defenses, but since I was alone, any status ailment would have been a disaster if they got lucky. The very thought left me constantly on guard, watching for enemies and ready for a battle. I could feel the shield growing around me as more and more of the pestering creatures came in sight.
After a while, the defensive Glow ignited and I must have been quite the picture, driving the buggy, lit like some sort of animated toy. But then the singing frogs avoided me, and the other enemies were not as troublesome. Larger monsters came up, and I either raced past them or killed them quickly with an arrow. I held Chastity Belt in reserve for a more troublesome encounter, should it ever arise.
There were no really challenging fights. Most of the trip was uneventful, with the movement over the road making me carsick. I figured it had to be because I was alone: the boredom gave me time to think and to notice every little change, inside of me and out. While I didn't regret drinking a single drop of Fruitland's Finest, the dehydration and queasiness definitely seemed to affect the day’s excursion.
After a few hours, though, just when I was fed up to the teeth with driving, the little hut on the peninsula appeared in the distance. The Gold Saucer glittered on the left and the southern sea stretched dark and deep, out to the horizon on the right. The noisy buggy heralded my arrival, and the arms maker came out to meet me.
The Quiz
"Why have you come here?" Zen, of course. A simple, direct answer was required, no explanations allowed.
"To learn the art of archery." Until I actually said those words I had not realized that I'd put Nibelheim behind me, with no real intention of returning.
The Master smiled.
"That is not the truth. Why have you come?"
What a pain in the butt. I knew the proper answers to the question, and they all made me feel hurt and angry. It would be useless to appeal to the Master if I could not answer him truthfully. What would I tell him? That my lover abandoned me, and I needed some reconnoitering? Not this kid. I closed my mouth and shook my head, ready to leave.
"What did you want to ask of me?" That was an unexpected boon. A teacher will not teach unless asked to do so. He was allowing me to ask. Now I had to know my real purpose. Did I want to be taught, or did I want to practice shooting arrows?
"Master, teach me." Might as well see what I could learn.
"Will you learn? Do not waste my time with frivolity. Return to your husband."
The hell?! My brain screeched to a sudden stop. Then I had to do a mental U-turn. He didn't mean my husband, my ex back in Midgar: he meant the owner of the Damascene band that I was once again wearing. I almost let out a laugh, squelched it immediately, but when I recovered my composure, I figured I had blown my only chance to receive instruction. For his part, the arms maker waited out my silliness in serene silence.
"Master, the ring does not belong to me. I intend to return it." If that didn’t sound like chocobo guano, nothing did. But he smiled and nodded, his eyes mild, ready to teach. I shut up and waited.
"Go back and return the ring to the owner. When you are ready, then you may present yourself. Alone. With no baggage."
Except for my weapons and battle items, I carried nothing, much less any luggage. The Master was demanding that I divest myself of anything that would interfere with instruction. It shamed me to admit to myself that I was wrong to seek any learning from the Master. He remembered my last visit: target practice is all I really wanted, some time both to think and to escape thinking. I apologized to him, feeling humble.
Guess my troubles hung about me like a pall. It didn't take Zen discipline to see I was running away from many things, and not just the past. I bowed and apologized again, thanking him for his instruction.
A stolen ring, a stolen buggy and a stolen night of love: even my clothes were not my own. What a strange situation for me. Never took anything that wasn't mine before I joined Avalanche. Now stealing, running, hiding, even killing all seemed normal to me. Hard to remember that most people thought them wrong.
No town belonged to me, not even Kalm, where I was born. Left that when I got married. Left the brothers and sisters, too. With my marriage over, there was no place to go that I considered home. Neither did I have a job, and certainly no career. Not even a hobby, really.
The weapons maker’s brief instruction directed me back to myself. Who and what was I now? I resolved to push aside maudlin thoughts of all I lost: time to move forward.
No, I didn't feel like crying. That must have been the hangover, back in the manor. I hadn't cried a real tear since I met my sons in Midgar, before the final battle in the North Crater. They broke my heart, just by being babies, by being young and sweet, beautiful and healthy. Happy, normal babies were not for me, but for their foster-mothers. The women who were raising them, and doing a good enough job to keep them smiling and laughing: Arisu and Mayumi were their real mothers. The boys laughed with them. They made tinkling music when they all joined in the merriment. I couldn’t; I knew I was the outsider and left.
A very wise man in the Ancient World used to say that if we do not cry all our tears, we cannot enjoy all our laughter. At that moment, standing outside the weapons maker’s hut on the peninsular, I knew I was finished crying. Would I also cease to laugh? Lately, all my laughter had been bitter or ironic.
I doubted that there were any normal emotions left in me. Certainly I never cried again after that meeting. And I'd been such a baby before, tears welling up with any hurt, sadness, joy, whatever. My daughters used to tease me about it, and I fondly remembered their gentle ribbing. All permanently in the past.
It was time to go back to the Fruitlands, to return the buggy, the uniform, the ring. Time to start over, with just myself for company, my clothes and weapons for property.
Oh, and some four to five million gil. Give or take a million.
Restoration
Gold Saucer, Gold Coast or Gongaga?
Of course, Gold Saucer was out. That noisy light show was not my idea of entertainment, much less relaxation. Leave it to the kids, and anyone else who wanted enough sounds and excitement to crowd their thoughts out of their heads.
And it was too much of a detour to the condominium in Gold Coast, although I would have loved to bathe in the warm waters there. Well, not like there wasn't ocean all around the Central Continent. Still, I knew it would be best to head first to Gongaga for a full night's sleep. Didn't get much the night before.
Gongaga was one of the most peaceful towns we visited on the road. A ruined mako reactor will do that to a place. It's where my comrades had taken our leader Cloud, to rest and recover after he was overcome by Sephiroth in the pit of the Temple of the Ancients. I might even have slept in the same bed as he did, and I left at the first light of dawn. No bathing, no breakfast. Cosmo Canyon was the next stop, plenty of food, rest, and even some companionship to be found there.
First, though, I planned to skinny-dip in the western ocean.
Cosmo Canyon was very secluded, away from every other population center, even from any Shinra installation. The surrounding desert was formidable, a challenge that weeded out the casual tourist, leaving only the motivated pilgrim. It ran right down to the ocean on the west. There was a beautiful, green and blue lagoon, completely cut off from all civilization. People rarely went there, certainly never on purpose. It remained a virtually untouched breeding ground for hostile desert and marine creatures.
It was amazingly easy to clear the beach. I found a host of enemies, and they all attacked at once, not having seen many humans. They naturally assumed I was dangerous.
They were right. I shot the largest Beach Plug, killing it instantly and the others rose up together to avenge their companion. Since I worry most about status attacks, I protected myself solely against them, allowing plenty of physical hits. After sufficient battering, my body released Chastity Belt and lit up like a pinball game going tilt. I leveled the front line of enemies, chasing off the rest of the Plugs and a good number of Desert Sahagins, with the subsequent shock wave. The light streamed from my eyes and mouth, and every pore that dripped perspiration. Make no mistake, I was sweating like a prize fighter with a hangover.
With the beach to myself, I washed it all away and extinguished the Glow. It was the first time in years that I could remember swimming in the ocean. I floated on my back, paddled about, and rode the waves to my heart's content. When I satisfied my urge to surf and dive, I lay in the hot sun until the saltiness made my skin itch. Nearby Cosmo Canyon and a quick shower would fix that.
Food and Visitation
Cosmo Canyon was always in distant sight of the lagoon, and my memories of past visits had already begun to tease me with visions of restful nights and simple, delicious food. By the time I readied the buggy, I was practically starving. Pilgrims seeking to sit by the Cosmo Candle could expect a bountiful meal and plenty to drink at various inns and pubs set into the face of the cliffs. Not exactly a tourist trap, the Canyon was a well-appointed destination for those devoted to the preservation of the Planet. It engendered a subdued, peaceful feeling, rather than the frantic search for pleasures usually associated with touring.
Each pilgrim was politely questioned at the gate for purpose or intent. The natives didn't really care whether or not a visitor was a true believer. Just that they needed to be on guard against anyone who would disturb the atmosphere that they carefully cultivated, one of peaceful concern for the natural world.
Okay by me, as long as I was fed and rested. A day at the beach left me sunburned, dehydrated, and tired, with my wavy hair stringy from the seawater and sand. The greeter did not recognize me, or if he did, he welcomed me as a regular visitor. That was fine; I could rest and eat, then visit with my little Nanaki at my leisure. I went directly to the pub, ate a fine vegetarian meal, and took a room in the adjoining inn. Except for my being older and, I hoped, wiser, it felt a lot like staying in a hostel as a student, decades ago. Only with weapons. And a lot more respect from the innkeepers.
Nanaki would no doubt be happy to chat a while with me, before I returned to the Fruitlands. I looked forward to seeing his furry face and listening to his cultured, dispassionate take on the last battle in the Crater and the Lifestream's rescue of Midgar. Maybe we could sit by the perpetual bonfire called the Cosmo Candle and listen to the windmills a while.
Cosmo Canyon was an odd place. Conservation was everything and everywhere. It was necessary to take only a perfunctory shower, because all water was recycled and the used-water holding tank was deliberately dinky, shutting me down after three and a half minutes. The only way to prolong it was to flush the toilet, and at the moment that was unnecessary. Might as well honor the Spirit of the Canyon. No matter, I could shampoo my hair in the morning; it would fit well with my plans. A small price to pay for the tranquility and peace I enjoy in that town. In fact, it wouldn't have been wise to remain there very long, since the atmosphere could take the edge off my battle mien.
So very peaceful in its intent, yet in fact noisy as Hell. The place is almost completely supplied by wind power, and the turbines that surround it run twenty-four hours, day and night. They are very loud, almost drowning out the sounds of the desert winds themselves. The crackling fire of Cosmo Candle cannot compete with them, except when one is sitting very close. The droning makes the perfect white noise for sleepers, though, and left me feeling like the only person on the Planet. It was close to noon when I arose. I cannot think of any time I've ever slept so long and so well in my life.
That's why I felt cheated when I awoke with the same queasiness I had the previous morning. Would have been nice to experience the full healthiness of my new body for once, instead of constantly healing from battle or recovering from a glass or two of beverage. This time I would fill up on a hearty breakfast and hot coffee before I set on the road to Nibelheim. Only problem was that the very thought of hot coffee made me run to the bathroom to empty my stomach. Fortunately, that was a false alarm, and I merely shifted gears and grabbed a very quick shampoo and got dressed. It was well past time to do something about the damned hair.
The last visit our fellowship made to the Canyon, Elder Bugenhagen took only small groups into his cosmologic observatory, while the rest were left to our own devices. Spiritual retreat or not, we toured the place looking for shops, and found a specialty outfitter tucked deep into the cliffs, accessible only with permission of the owner. He opened a passage to the back of his establishment and we bought high-level items and materia that were better suited to our final trip through the North Crater. There were also signs posted for services available only to permanent Cosmo inhabitants. After we met with Bugenhagen in his planetarium, even these were graciously offered.
I presented myself to the shop owner again, and he was kind enough to pretend he remembered me. The resident barber gave me a quick clipping, hacking away all the long locks that were really getting on my nerves. It would be a relief when I once again stepped outside into the desert wind. There was still plenty of hair, rather longish on top, and I suspected that my newly-improved body would regrow it way before I wanted. The most important thing was to keep it short enough so I wouldn't have to tie it back when shooting bow. At the moment it was blowing all around, and still not getting in my eyes, perfect for the trip back and any battles encountered in the desert sands.
The ladder down left me next to the restaurant and bar, and once I got over my acrophobic reaction to the descent, I was ready to eat again. I slipped into the relative darkness and took the table nearest the door.
"Have you decided to become a completely different person, then, Josephine?"
The questioner really startled me, but my answer was automatic. Men always seem to hate haircuts on women, and I collected a full set of comebacks over the years. Not clever, but the guys usually shut up afterwards. Some day I plan to shave my head, to give me the opportunity to collect a few new retorts.
"Nah, I'm still me. Just less hairy. Vincent, what brings you to Cosmo Canyon?"
"Hitch-hiking, since you lifted the buggy from its hiding place." He let out a guffaw and dropped into the seat opposite me. "Seriously, I have been searching for you the last two days. You never said goodbye."
"Neither did you. Well, Roomie, I was just about to order breakfast. Interested?"
Of course, Gold Saucer was out. That noisy light show was not my idea of entertainment, much less relaxation. Leave it to the kids, and anyone else who wanted enough sounds and excitement to crowd their thoughts out of their heads.
And it was too much of a detour to the condominium in Gold Coast, although I would have loved to bathe in the warm waters there. Well, not like there wasn't ocean all around the Central Continent. Still, I knew it would be best to head first to Gongaga for a full night's sleep. Didn't get much the night before.
Gongaga was one of the most peaceful towns we visited on the road. A ruined mako reactor will do that to a place. It's where my comrades had taken our leader Cloud, to rest and recover after he was overcome by Sephiroth in the pit of the Temple of the Ancients. I might even have slept in the same bed as he did, and I left at the first light of dawn. No bathing, no breakfast. Cosmo Canyon was the next stop, plenty of food, rest, and even some companionship to be found there.
First, though, I planned to skinny-dip in the western ocean.
Cosmo Canyon was very secluded, away from every other population center, even from any Shinra installation. The surrounding desert was formidable, a challenge that weeded out the casual tourist, leaving only the motivated pilgrim. It ran right down to the ocean on the west. There was a beautiful, green and blue lagoon, completely cut off from all civilization. People rarely went there, certainly never on purpose. It remained a virtually untouched breeding ground for hostile desert and marine creatures.
It was amazingly easy to clear the beach. I found a host of enemies, and they all attacked at once, not having seen many humans. They naturally assumed I was dangerous.
They were right. I shot the largest Beach Plug, killing it instantly and the others rose up together to avenge their companion. Since I worry most about status attacks, I protected myself solely against them, allowing plenty of physical hits. After sufficient battering, my body released Chastity Belt and lit up like a pinball game going tilt. I leveled the front line of enemies, chasing off the rest of the Plugs and a good number of Desert Sahagins, with the subsequent shock wave. The light streamed from my eyes and mouth, and every pore that dripped perspiration. Make no mistake, I was sweating like a prize fighter with a hangover.
With the beach to myself, I washed it all away and extinguished the Glow. It was the first time in years that I could remember swimming in the ocean. I floated on my back, paddled about, and rode the waves to my heart's content. When I satisfied my urge to surf and dive, I lay in the hot sun until the saltiness made my skin itch. Nearby Cosmo Canyon and a quick shower would fix that.
Food and Visitation
Cosmo Canyon was always in distant sight of the lagoon, and my memories of past visits had already begun to tease me with visions of restful nights and simple, delicious food. By the time I readied the buggy, I was practically starving. Pilgrims seeking to sit by the Cosmo Candle could expect a bountiful meal and plenty to drink at various inns and pubs set into the face of the cliffs. Not exactly a tourist trap, the Canyon was a well-appointed destination for those devoted to the preservation of the Planet. It engendered a subdued, peaceful feeling, rather than the frantic search for pleasures usually associated with touring.
Each pilgrim was politely questioned at the gate for purpose or intent. The natives didn't really care whether or not a visitor was a true believer. Just that they needed to be on guard against anyone who would disturb the atmosphere that they carefully cultivated, one of peaceful concern for the natural world.
Okay by me, as long as I was fed and rested. A day at the beach left me sunburned, dehydrated, and tired, with my wavy hair stringy from the seawater and sand. The greeter did not recognize me, or if he did, he welcomed me as a regular visitor. That was fine; I could rest and eat, then visit with my little Nanaki at my leisure. I went directly to the pub, ate a fine vegetarian meal, and took a room in the adjoining inn. Except for my being older and, I hoped, wiser, it felt a lot like staying in a hostel as a student, decades ago. Only with weapons. And a lot more respect from the innkeepers.
Nanaki would no doubt be happy to chat a while with me, before I returned to the Fruitlands. I looked forward to seeing his furry face and listening to his cultured, dispassionate take on the last battle in the Crater and the Lifestream's rescue of Midgar. Maybe we could sit by the perpetual bonfire called the Cosmo Candle and listen to the windmills a while.
Cosmo Canyon was an odd place. Conservation was everything and everywhere. It was necessary to take only a perfunctory shower, because all water was recycled and the used-water holding tank was deliberately dinky, shutting me down after three and a half minutes. The only way to prolong it was to flush the toilet, and at the moment that was unnecessary. Might as well honor the Spirit of the Canyon. No matter, I could shampoo my hair in the morning; it would fit well with my plans. A small price to pay for the tranquility and peace I enjoy in that town. In fact, it wouldn't have been wise to remain there very long, since the atmosphere could take the edge off my battle mien.
So very peaceful in its intent, yet in fact noisy as Hell. The place is almost completely supplied by wind power, and the turbines that surround it run twenty-four hours, day and night. They are very loud, almost drowning out the sounds of the desert winds themselves. The crackling fire of Cosmo Candle cannot compete with them, except when one is sitting very close. The droning makes the perfect white noise for sleepers, though, and left me feeling like the only person on the Planet. It was close to noon when I arose. I cannot think of any time I've ever slept so long and so well in my life.
That's why I felt cheated when I awoke with the same queasiness I had the previous morning. Would have been nice to experience the full healthiness of my new body for once, instead of constantly healing from battle or recovering from a glass or two of beverage. This time I would fill up on a hearty breakfast and hot coffee before I set on the road to Nibelheim. Only problem was that the very thought of hot coffee made me run to the bathroom to empty my stomach. Fortunately, that was a false alarm, and I merely shifted gears and grabbed a very quick shampoo and got dressed. It was well past time to do something about the damned hair.
The last visit our fellowship made to the Canyon, Elder Bugenhagen took only small groups into his cosmologic observatory, while the rest were left to our own devices. Spiritual retreat or not, we toured the place looking for shops, and found a specialty outfitter tucked deep into the cliffs, accessible only with permission of the owner. He opened a passage to the back of his establishment and we bought high-level items and materia that were better suited to our final trip through the North Crater. There were also signs posted for services available only to permanent Cosmo inhabitants. After we met with Bugenhagen in his planetarium, even these were graciously offered.
I presented myself to the shop owner again, and he was kind enough to pretend he remembered me. The resident barber gave me a quick clipping, hacking away all the long locks that were really getting on my nerves. It would be a relief when I once again stepped outside into the desert wind. There was still plenty of hair, rather longish on top, and I suspected that my newly-improved body would regrow it way before I wanted. The most important thing was to keep it short enough so I wouldn't have to tie it back when shooting bow. At the moment it was blowing all around, and still not getting in my eyes, perfect for the trip back and any battles encountered in the desert sands.
The ladder down left me next to the restaurant and bar, and once I got over my acrophobic reaction to the descent, I was ready to eat again. I slipped into the relative darkness and took the table nearest the door.
"Have you decided to become a completely different person, then, Josephine?"
The questioner really startled me, but my answer was automatic. Men always seem to hate haircuts on women, and I collected a full set of comebacks over the years. Not clever, but the guys usually shut up afterwards. Some day I plan to shave my head, to give me the opportunity to collect a few new retorts.
"Nah, I'm still me. Just less hairy. Vincent, what brings you to Cosmo Canyon?"
"Hitch-hiking, since you lifted the buggy from its hiding place." He let out a guffaw and dropped into the seat opposite me. "Seriously, I have been searching for you the last two days. You never said goodbye."
"Neither did you. Well, Roomie, I was just about to order breakfast. Interested?"
The Planet’s Best Maki
"They make the best maki, all crunchy, cold and yummy. Have some with a warm greens rollup, extra guacamole. I was dreaming about them all night. Excellent."
The owner smiled when he heard, gave me a quick nod and walked over to our table. We waited for Vincent's order.
"I've already had breakfast and lunch. The Turtle Paradise Special, please."
"If you're going to start, I think I will, too. A Lime Rickey would go nicely, thanks. Vincent, you look suspiciously fresh and free of dust. How did you manage to survive on foot alone in the desert?"
"I didn't. Victor and his wife drove me here in their transport. The buggy was gone, and I found your footprints at the hiding place. After the first day, I began to think that traveling alone would not be very safe for a single woman, even one so self-reliant as you. We could have gone together, if only you had asked. I blame myself for being unavailable to you, since I’ve been busy in the mornings. I decided to follow and join you. In turn, my family insisted on accompanying me. When we saw the buggy parked at Cosmo Canyon, they made noises about pressing business elsewhere and dropped me outside the gate.
“You haven’t been to see Nanaki. He was eyeing Dio's toy when I arrived. He said he didn't know you were so mechanically minded. He thought we should visit when we'd connected. Then we watched you climb to the suppliers. I followed, but you'd entered the outfitters, and the merchant told me you were getting your hair cut." When Vincent said that, I shook my newly-shorn locks, just to emphasize their short length. I snorted.
"And here I found you, Vincent, sitting in the dark. I left to get some target practice, and decided to stop over again on the way back. Oh, by the way, here's your ring. Did I rob you in your sleep or something?" I removed the Damascene band, set it in my palm and offered it across the board.
"That's yours. It has always been for you. Walter designed them and Hildegarde made the pair on spec. They were thinking of you and me when they did. The styling was unexpected and striking. It befits you just the way you said it does me." He gently closed my hand and pushed it back to my side of the table.
"Vincent, we've already gone around on this. Save it for your future wife." I watched his face go stony as I said it. His disapproval surprised me, given that we’d already discussed this before, when he seemed to agree with me. Why the sourpuss now?
"Josephine, are you deliberately being dense? That band was designed and sized specifically for you. You once told me that you like it, and I want you to wear it."
"Um, correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't these a matched pair of commitment bands?" How could I put it nicely, without triggering a proposal, insincere or otherwise?
"Yes, that is correct, Josephine, and no, I am not proposing; our union is a fait accompli. Furthermore, you officially sealed the relationship yourself, back on the Highwind. Duly witnessed.”
At that, I doubted his sanity. After all, one who often cultivated long silences—not to mention thirty years in a coffin—could easily hallucinate even as he walked among us.
“Witnesses?”
“One witness only. You can call Yuffie, if you need to verify it.” I certainly was not going to play along by calling anyone’s attention to his fiction of “us.” My answer came slowly, because I was afraid of the answer.
“And what would she say?” Okay, then, let’s hear it. I steeled myself for an elaborate confection, even though the very thought of Vincent lying or having any sort of delusion, except where Lucrecia was concerned, struck me as weird, even rather frightening.
“…that, after the battle with Hojo at the Mako cannon, you woke from your healing. You whispered a sweet nothing about being undressed and then kissed me on the lips.” There was open challenge in his unsmiling face, daring me to call him a liar.
My stomach churned as I stared at him. It felt exactly like one of those hangovers in my youth, when my buddies would tell me about some unheard-of, embarrassing behavior during a drunken blackout. I remembered only waking alone, without clothes, wrapped in a blanket. But I could not doubt that I would kiss him, if slightly addled, and given half a chance.
Vincent calmly punched a number on his PHS and handed it to me. Yuffie’s voice came on almost instantly.
“Vincent, are you okay? What do you need? You never call me! Are you in trouble?” Now he was smiling, waiting for my response.
“Yuffie, this is Fini. Vincent was just telling me a story about being in the stateroom after fighting Hojo…”
“Oh, good! I thought I would go crazy not telling anybody. Fini, can I talk about it now? Are you two an item in Nibelheim? What a riot! You keep me posted, promise? Dad will be sooooo disappointed, you know, but that's okay. We are really getting along great now, but it won’t last. Pretty soon, we’ll be fighting, just like before. Only he won’t treat me like a child anymore, right?
“Hey, Fini. I’m sorry. What do you want to know?”
“We just wanted to know how you were making out back in Wutai. How is Lord Godor? Happy to have you home?” Never felt so lame. We chatted back and forth about being idle, and I let her prattle on and finally run down. After a quick goodbye and love you, little buddy, I closed the PHS and returned it to Vincent.
“I’m sorry I doubted, but I just don’t remember anybody in the stateroom with me after the battle.” Through all the eeriness, I knew I must have indeed made a pass at Vincent. He’s such a cutie, who wouldn’t?
“Then you should consult Cid. Everything is recorded in his Captain’s Log.”
“Please don’t tell me he knows about it, too! I feel like a fool enough already!” Why didn’t I remember anything at all? Cid would make the log available if I asked, and it would be good to get the details of the Battle for the Sister Ray. Maybe it would help me remember.
“I’ve already said that only Yuffie watched us. We were waiting out your self-curing, when you awoke. You kissed me, healing me at the same time, and went right back into deep sleep. It still shames me that you could trick me without even trying, nor even fully conscious. I did not specify your waking behavior when I reported to the others. You can see I forced a promise of silence from Yuffie.
“Is it so terrible that you would want me? Must we keep it secret even now?” He looked mournful when he said that, and I began to feel even worse than just hung over. No real answer to his questions came to mind, so I said nothing. Were we an item in Nibelheim, then? What’s an item, anyway?
The innkeeper brought our drinks and I first sipped, and then gulped the Rickey. I was desperately trying to settle my stomach so I could eat. My meal arrived immediately afterwards, and I could only take little bites. No meat and no dairy, just like when I was pregnant, years ago. That memory caused my lunch to rise in my chest, and I closed my eyes and concentrated on not losing the maki.
“Josephine, what’s wrong; are you sick?” Vincent stood right up and came over to my side of the table to sit next to me. I pulled away from him, but only managed to flatten myself against the wall. It wouldn’t do to get my lunch on him if I vomited. I swallowed back, hard, so I could reassure him.
“I just had an awful feeling, but no, it couldn’t be. False alarm. Guess the sun was a little too hot near the water yesterday. No doubt I got a touch of heatstroke. Maybe I waited too long to eat and re-hydrate.” Vincent looked relieved, so I said nothing more about it. He sipped his Special and watched in silence while I finished my meal. A very light lunch for me, but just then it seemed heavy with avocado and alcohol. Strangely enough, the food managed to do the trick, and the queasiness left. Vincent was again smiling—such a rare sight, it made me think he was up to something. Then he signaled the owner, paid him and led me out into the bright sunlight.
“So, shall we find Nanaki? He would be disappointed if you didn’t see him before we return to the Fruitlands.”
Teenaged Manticore
Our comrade was still basking in the hero's welcome lavished on him by the elders of the Canyon community. Considering he was still just a youngster, the accolades seemed to weigh heavily on him, and he jumped at the chance to leave the others and visit a while, just as we would on the road.
He bounded up to us, and I dropped to the ground and hugged his ruff. Then I whispered that I wouldn't embarrass him with kisses and cuddles, even though I really wanted to. Just to tell him that he was still Little Nanaki to me. After all that happened on the way to the North Crater, he must have felt a lot older than his years. Still hurts my heart to think that the two youngsters lost their childhoods to Sephiroth and the rigors of the road.
The long life of his kind, the Manticores, whatever they called themselves, would always ensure that he was a relative constant, compared with the rest of us. Generally unperturbed by his surroundings and neighbors, Nanaki was well on his way to becoming a highly esteemed citizen of Cosmo Canyon, rather like an elder in his own right.
We sat next to the Candle and discussed possible plans for the future. Vincent said he would not make any: that he was content to watch the future unfold. I felt that my own were too tentative, but I wanted to contribute something positive to the conversation. I related the vision of the gathering around Cosmo Candle that I had while in the Lifestream.
"Sorry, Nanaki, but there were no little Manticores. My feeling was that this was to occur quite soon, within the next few years. Marlene seemed older, but still very much a child. There were little ones everywhere, but they were all human.
"Regardless, you were definitely the center of the other. I saw you, much larger than you are now, massive, probably a lot older, and wearing a full headdress. Those are headdresses you wear, right, not just weapons?
"Here's the good part. You were leading a pair of cubs, each wearing their own little headdress! You took them to the heights north of Midgar and showed them the ruins of the city. It had to be quite far into the future. Midgar was overgrown by what looked like a rainforest, very verdant, lush and beautiful. If there were humans, they would be living as part of the natural ecosystem there." I did not mention that it was possible for humans to be completely gone from the face of the Planet by then.
"So, Fini, we will have to wait to see if anything in those dreams comes true. I'd like to believe that there is someone out there for me. What do you think?"
"You didn't come out of nowhere, and your parents never taught you that you were the last, right? Maybe when there are fewer people messing up the Planet, you can find the others that are out there. They must be hiding far away from humans. After what Hojo did to you, can you blame them?"
We left unsaid the obvious, that people will come and go, since we are not as long-lived as he. No telling where that left Vincent, who had not aged in thirty years, or myself, who was now healing almost as quickly as I was aging. I certainly hoped I wasn't too long-lived, or I would face the same problems as our furry friend.
People were arriving to give thanks and celebrate the elimination of Meteor. The atmosphere was one of quiet, hopeful joy, and everyone was sharing their food, their feelings, and many good wishes with one another.
We enjoyed the party for a short while, then Vincent and I took our leave and walked out to the buggy. We wanted to return to Nibelheim before dark. When we got to the car, Vincent took my arm and turned me toward him.
"Josephine, answer me truthfully. Were any of those children ours?" Surprised by the question, I immediately remembered the baby with its eyes hidden by a mop of hair and nodded.
"One may have been yours, Vincent, now that you mention it, but I never got to know. My own boys could have been there, too, but I didn't recognize them. It was a vision, just a dream of the Lifestream. I can't explain; it wasn't future reality, but something that could happen, given the people and their present circumstances."
The memory of the little one in my arms made me sad for a while. After all, I was sterilized so long ago, and had been well past most of the ensuing grieving. It was not really my decision: my health left me little choice, if I wanted to survive to see my daughters to adulthood. Now I might never see them again, or my grandchildren, either. Everything hung on whether or not they considered me a dangerous terrorist, lunatic, or worse.
The vision itself was upbeat and hopeful, but the memory of it left me depressed and brooding. Well, I wouldn’t let anyone write me out of the Book of Life. And there was more to me than just childbearing.
Maybe I would breed chocobos with Eleanora. She would no doubt be glad to have my experience at her disposal. We could raise more of the elusive Gold chocobos, race them at the Gold Saucer, sell the offspring and make a fortune either way! I made a mental note to call Chocobilly on the ranch east of Midgar.
And I still wanted to tame and ride dragons, as fantastic as that sounded, even to me.
Rehabbing the Shinra Mansion
The Young Guardsmen
"Sorry, Ma'am. Can't allow anyone to move around in there alone." Well. That was an unexpected response to my approach. Since I was one of the original crew that cleared the place, one would think they'd be rather pleased to have me back for the next round.
"Oh, it's all right. Nothing in there I can't handle, I'm sure." So let's be reasonable with him. He probably wouldn't know my history. And if he could possibly know how I felt that morning, he would shut up and get out of the way, for his own safety.
Not hung over--just feeling the usual. The usual, lately, that is. Vincent and I returned to the Fruitlands and turned in our weapons. Then we went straight to "our" room in the main lodge. At least it would seem that it was now our room. Vincent yanked off his clothes and dropped face down onto the bed. And that looked pretty much like what I wanted too, so I followed suit. Came the bright sunny morning, and I was again suffering empty bed syndrome, only without all the night-before fun. This time I found my clothes already laundered, and in a neat pile on the dresser, alongside another red and black stack that looked like they belonged to my roommate.
Wrong. They were two-piece uniforms that fit me a lot better than Pamela Valentine's jumpsuit. After a quick shower, I looked again for the laundry chute, and found it in the bathroom. Towels in, out of sight. Damned nice luxury, that.
Another visit to the armory, and I was on my way to the Shinra Mansion. It was so easy to slip into a routine. Mine would include pursuing the various enterprises that I mentally noted while on the road. Rehabbing the old building had been the first possibility on my list.
The young soldier smiled regretfully, and shook his head. He didn't have the local accent or the look. In fact, he didn't have any regional look at all, except he may have been Samurai. Wutai, maybe? Probably raised chocobos, too: I'd ask Eleanora, or maybe Hildy. He handled his spear casually, as if he didn't intend to ever use it. My radar went off, and I looked at him again. Maybe not casual at all, just very experienced, comfortable with the weapon as a constant talisman or familiar.
"Policy, Ma'am. Right now no one goes in alone." I was becoming exasperated. No one actually owned the place anymore, so who were they to block my entry? Well, if necessary, I'd put the fellow out for a while. Put off by his demeanor--and that spear--I decided to kid around first, to test the water.
"So, you think you can take me?" I hoped to catch him off guard, use a dazer to put him under and grab a quick look. Be back before he woke. Or maybe not. He brightened right up at that suggestion.
"I don't see why not. Let me check." Well, now. What did he have in mind? But the young man had misinterpreted my joking threat. He was actually using his PHS to find another escort, to help him take me through the old building.
Everything in Nibelheim was so much easier than anticipated. After all the months of uphill struggling just to find safe passage from town to town, my expectations were way too overblown. No one was inclined to interfere with my plans, or even to question them.
In a short while, a couple of young women joined us. I recognized them from the after-dinner affair in the Great Room. The petite gal who started the round of questions playfully waved to me with her whip/cat-o-nine-tails weapon. Well, that looked useful. We could keep her in the back row with that thing. On the other hand she wore a wicked looking cat claw, too. Have to see how it all played out. Her companion was a pleasant-looking spectacled girl, carrying an elaborately forged, deep-blue scythe.
Now the only problem was that, while all the young people wanted to tour the Mansion with me, someone needed to remain as sentry. I thought it best to let them sort it out, and before long, the reaper, now a very disappointed-looking young lady, stayed behind. I led the other soldiers down the stairway to the first level, stopping as soon as I saw the layout.
The place wasn't derelict at all; it was full of weapons, ammunition and other cargo crates. The militia had made it their warehouse just as soon as Shinra fell. Two soldiers patrolled inside, moving slowly around to us, asking for our credentials, of which I had none. My name and the new uniform seemed to be all I needed, though, and we were otherwise left to our own purposes. My escort remained respectfully silent unless I addressed them. It was if I were expected to check out the place. Why? I had not mentioned it aloud. The idea made me wary, and I looked them both over again, sparking a round of introductions. The young man bowed.
"Sebastian Cyan, Ma'am, from Junon, originally. Desiree Sunset, this is..."
"I met Fini the other night." She grabbed my hand and shook it hard a few times. Her grip was unexpectedly very strong. I had thought her a petite and delicate kitten, but maybe I would revise that to wiry wildcat. Have to watch that one.
The Basement Beckons
There simply was nothing of interest on the first or second floor. Everything was just as we left it, only now there were boxes of ammunition and other supplies on every available square decimeter of space. Not a creature to be found that didn't belong, but the crates made my inspection impossible. I signed to my companions that we should go, and we prepared to leave.
From the second floor there came a groaning creak, a cracking snap, and one of the patrolmen screamed in pain, shouting for help. This set off the Glow, and I ran up the stairs to the right, following the sound.
The soldier stared in amazement at me, or at the Glow, rather, from his place on the hallway floor. There was no enemy at all, just a jagged hole where the boards had given way under him. His lower leg was at a very bad angle, surely broken. He struggled in a panic to get away from me. I barked an order, hoping to draw his attention from the pain.
"Good! Pull as hard as you can! Come on, pull it!" He was already effectively straightening the break, beginning to set the fracture. Now he looked uncertain, but not fearful.
"Take his upper arms and try to drag him backwards." My escort looked at the situation, recognized what I wanted, and braced themselves against the floorboards, pulling steadily on the injured man. The soldier yelled again, but this time he was trying to stifle it. I took his ankle into both hands and began to cure, while straightening it. It was over in no time and the newly healed man extracted himself from the floorboards, and stood up, gingerly testing the repaired limb and looking very surprised.
All in the light of the Glow. Quite a spectacular scene, what with the screaming, the group effort, and all. We gave each other a moment to calm down, and then there was a minor celebration, with handshakes all around. For the first time since I arrived, I felt accepted as a professional, rather than Vincent’s groupie.
"You can do that yourself, without items? And you didn't chant anything!" Desiree was fascinated. She had a little nervous habit of flexing the claw, opening and closing her fist, rubbing the talons together in a stroking motion that set off small sparks. These kids needed some real action.
"Oh, the healing. Yeah, sure. It's not a spell. I'm afraid I don't quite have the incandescence down to a science yet. That seems to be some sort of chemical reaction. I'll figure it out eventually." Already things were returning to normal, and I remembered the entry to the tower.
"The basement as boring as the rest of the place? I'd like to examine the infrastructure before I leave." Not really. Nothing for me in that musty old building. Just curiosity: Hojo had a laboratory full of records downstairs, and the access was right in sight.
We walked over to inspect the door. Sealed tight, just as if we never entered it, all those months ago. Already the thought of those darned stairs was triggering the Glow again. Oh, well, it should be good for something. I'd punch the door open with it. Probably bounce if I fell forward, anyway. No reason Chastity Belt wouldn't work on floors as well as walls, although it would probably look a little bizarre, especially when I rebounded.
Neither of my companions said a word, and watched passively, while I slammed it open with the Belt. Obviously unused. There was a cargo elevator between the floors: the tower was empty, dank and dusty, looking exactly as we left it. Of course, I don't like elevators any better than stairs. And I wouldn't want a nasty critter to slip in with me, leaving no escape, and no room to draw my bow.
I didn't get to test the ability to land safely. This time, the door popped me backward just as it opened. My assistants looked at me as if I were insane.
"Just plain hate elevators. Not much for stairs either, but at least they won't trap us." Respectful nods. Still thought I was nuts.
We were greeted by a cloud of black bats, and my sudden, obvious panic made the soldiers snicker. Until the nasty things began to suck their blood. Then it wasn't so much fun. The lightning-charged Kitty Whip made short work of several of them, though, and Sebastian killed quite a few with, well, I didn't quite see what.
"Thought you had a spear? What is that thing?" It was already returned to his belt.
"Moon Shard is better for longer range. Sockful-o-Gil is effective on close-up enemies." He whipped the thing around his head again for emphasis, and tucked it back on his belt in one graceful movement. Desiree ducked, shouted "You frickin' scrumper!" and created a few more unprintable names to describe her comrade. Sebastian grinned, pleased with the demonstration. This released a new torrent of impressive abuse. Looked like Captain Cid had competition in the oath-building guild. Mighty foul mouth on the petite, pretty kitten. Uh, tiger cub. No, make that tigress.
"Hey, whatever works. Maybe you should be a little careful with that. We can't afford to lose a soldier. Okay, guys, pay attention to the enemies' attacks. Monster magic will drop you faster than anything physical down here." I let the two of them lead, sweeping away the bats as they descended. With them in front, and the Glow ignited, there was little fear of heights this time. Just a long, stupid descent on an ancient, circular stairway. Who bothers with those picturesque anachronisms anymore? Hate'm. They belong to old horror movies.
When I arrived at the bottom, my companions had already turned toward me, watching in silence. What was with them giving me the fish eye?
"Something wrong? Anybody hurt?" They pointed to my feet. I'd long forgotten about the floating bit. It took me months to realize I was doing it, riding just above the floors, or skimming over the ground. Sometimes in public, I'd float after a scare, or if we were supposed to be hiding. It had nothing to do with Chastity Belt, but was probably defensive. Harmless and rather silly looking, I thought.
"Just nerves. Don't worry about it. Let's go." Desiree let out a long, low whistle, but Sebastian shrugged and moved on. The deeper into the rooms we went, the darker the place got, except for the Glow. I began to lead, patting the walls with my hands, to test for openings or whatever might lead us to the rooms I wanted.
All the doors were open. We weren't fastidious about that sort of thing the first sweep, months ago. Nor would we take time to shut them this go-around. We wandered into the room where we originally found Vincent, but there wasn't much there, just a bunch of dry, rotted bodies and dusty coffins. This visit, I couldn't help but think about the desiccated corpses, which were probably the results of Hojo's failed experiments. Supposedly, if we could identify any of them, we might afford closure to their families. But these were ancient, maybe even thirty years old. Let their families seek them out. Shinra was no longer a threat; if anyone wanted to look into the matter, they were free to do so. Families seemed to just let things go, I thought with a stab of pain in my gut. Then I shook away the blues and pushed out of the room to the end of the corridor, lost in musing over Fate and its vagaries.
A Taste of Excitement
A weird slapping sound brought me back to reality. Sebastian was poking Moon Shard at a Ying Yang, making the boneless bogy shrink and shudder with each stab. I shouted to Desiree, who was preparing the Kitty Whip.
"Get back: leave it to him and his fire-spear. The disgusting thing uses Lightning and just might absorb it! Ice, too, for that matter."
The two-headed almost-humanoid began its ridiculous floppy-dance, striking out at the youngsters. Sebastian gave it plenty of whacks, making good use of Moon Shard's fire element. Otherwise it seemed practically invulnerable, just visibly annoyed. I let the stupid thing pound on the kids a while, and healed them whenever they weakened. They would need to learn a little about fighting down there, before I got too tired to help. Besides, that spear looked like it could do the job.
"Peter puffin, Oedipus-emulator! You worthless progeny of a cheap she-cur! That hurt!" Desiree let out a new chain of swearing each time the thing struck her, but wasn't getting anywhere fast with her magic. At that point in the action, swarms of bats were attracted by the sounds and the fire-and-light show. Things were beginning to look a little desperate, and I expected I would have to start shooting. Still, I wanted to let the kids finish the job themselves.
Desiree enters into her limit break Suddenly the cursing stopped. Screeching like a wounded puma, Desiree slammed the handle of the whip into the floor and spun around, using it as a pivot. Then her speed increased and she extended her legs, rapidly and repeatedly kicking the rubbery Ying Yang. Sebastian and I fell back, giving her room to enjoy the limit break. She beat the monster out of existence with her combat boots and finished by adding the whip to the repertory, clearing out the bats with a couple of electrically charged, overhead sweeps.
Desiree then dropped down to the floor, using her hands to steady herself, looking rather feline in the process. I half expected her to start licking her claw. Sebastian smiled, noting my reaction, then looked back at his partner and barked.
"Hey, none of that here! Wait until we're outside, will you?" She'd produced a lighter and was preparing to smoke a cigarette. Cursing, smoking and battling like a barroom brawler! Who the hell was she? Cid Highwind's kid sister?
She looked so disappointed, I felt the urge to take her mind off the craving for nicotine. "Probably best to wait till we are out of here. Hey, what do you call that break?"
Desiree stopped sulking and muttering under her breath. She looked thoughtful for a half-minute, then spat into the closest dark corner. Grinning evilly, she suggested a very vulgar phrase usually reserved for the dutiful partners of overtly sexy women. I could feel my eyebrows rise up practically to my hairline and I snorted.
"Actually, you call it whatever you want. It's your limit break. If you don't mind, though, can we substitute the slightly more polite Kitty Whipped in civil conversation?" She flashed another smile, somewhat placated. Then she was rolling up the still-sparking cat-o-nine tails, chuckling to herself, and ready to move on.
Just as we entered the Shinra laboratory, Sebastian let out a war-hoop. Desiree perked up and ran toward the shouting. A little drained by the earlier healing, I followed very slowly, ready to just watch the action, third-person style.
When I finally had them in sight, Desiree was ducking the blade of a Ghirofelgo, and cussing up a storm. Sebastian was crouched on the floor, partly covered in blood. The monster had already attacked him, and he was beginning to look exhilarated, ready to move into his own limit break.
Good, I thought, the place would be lit by someone else for a change. After all, my energy wasn't unlimited. Only thing, that someone wasn't Sebastian Cyan. At first the Moon Shard looked brighter. The spear began to gleam, beginning with the honed edge, then the blade, and finally the shaft. The glowing turned a dull yellow, a low flame that turned red, became white-hot and finally a super-heated blue. Sebastian himself took on the bright luminescence, too, roaring like a war god, and gloating in his growing power. Rather than burn his hands, the flame slowly moved up his arms and over the rest of his body, melding both human and spear into a vaguely humanoid blue flare--the spirit of the Moon Shard. The room seemed hardly able to contain him, and both Desiree and I backed away to escape the intense heat.
Then something in the back of my mind clicked. The ammunition upstairs! Oh, Hell's bells. With the heat alone we could all be blown to smithereens. Maybe it would have been better to shut all the doors along the way. For that matter, there probably wouldn't be so many enemies down there if we hadn't left so many doors ajar, months ago.
The gloriously burning-blue god moved quickly to eliminate the rocking Ghirofelgo with three globular missiles tossed, or shot from its arms, directly at the overmatched enemy. Instant incineration, no glowing, no flames. Then our ally wandered away, roaring and looking for more action. That was also, not coincidentally, the end of any curious bats attracted by the noisy commotion.
"Sebastian! That's enough; all clear now!" It couldn't have been Sebastian. He paid me no heed, instead moving toward the entry, and supposedly headed toward the stairs or, worse, an elevator.
So the two of us women rushed around the over-heated super-human, and tried to block the way to the upstairs. Desiree spewed forth an uninterrupted stream of expletives at it, but I was afraid to incite it further. I pulled her behind me and faced it myself, speaking as calmly as I could and still be loud enough to break through the obsessive hunting and growling.
"No. Desiree, stand your ground. He won't hurt us. Sebastian! If you go upstairs, we will all die. You'll burn down the whole mansion. And maybe Nibelheim. Again." I did not look at Desiree, who I assumed would react to that with grief. Wrong. She let forth an uncomfortably high-pitched shriek, from the very top of her lungs.
"Cool it, ya freaking moron! Want to kill us all?" Desiree then spat at the fiery thing. It stopped and began to shrink, the blue flame dying down until all that was left was Sebastian Cyan, staring at us and looking spooked. After a while, I whispered at him.
"No control over that thing?"
He shook his head and looked at Desiree. "I'm sorry. So sorry."
Not again! I barked, "Stop that right now. You'll learn to handle it better, even if you never do get control. You should talk to Vincent Valentine; he has the same sort of breaks. For crying out loud, get over it. Soon." I bet myself mentally that he would never handle the spear so casually again. "Moon Shard has a history, it would seem. You knew about it, didn’t you?"
He puffed out his cheeks and let out a long breath. "Yeah, but it's never happened like that before. I could have killed you both!" I remembered the scene in the nearby caves, when Vincent was upset by his own break.
"Heard that one before. You wouldn't hurt us even possessed by the Moon Shard Warrior. It's a cooperative sort of thing. He's had a piece of you since you adopted the weapon, and wants to play his part. If he goes overboard, you won't allow it again. That's all. Things can happen in battle that go beyond our own selves. Save that burning blue thing for emergencies. You'll be glad to have him then." Don't they teach these kids anything anymore? It can't be all Zen and poetic choreography.
We returned to the laboratory, with them flicking at the bats as we went along. It was clear we couldn't allow any of us to move ahead alone. My perusal of the books and records would have to be quick. Desiree and Sebastian took care of whatever enemies attacked us, while I tore the place apart, looking for clues to my own imprisonment by Hojo.
There were none. Hojo hadn't been in the place for decades, leaving the local dirty work to his aides and proteges. Plenty of records, little relevant information. Now tired and discouraged, I wandered over to the other end of the basement, and looked at the stairwell. Vincent had ascended right up its center, but we would have to climb. An elevator sounded good at that moment. I turned to look for it, but the kids were staring expectantly at me. What the hell?
"Light the way, my lady." Sebastion looked pretty serious when he said it. Did they think I was a lamp?
"Sorry, buddy. Doesn't work like that. We start out in the dark." I flattened against the wall and slowly began to climb. After about ten or twelve steps, the inevitable vertigo ignited the Glow, and my escorts gave a low-level cheer.
Sick to death of the whole spectacle, I knew I needed rest. More than that, it would be necessary to hunt up a viewer for Hojo's file. Already drained by our long excursion, I had to drag myself up the stairs, with each becoming steeper than the next. When we reached the upper floor, I walked without saying anything at all, and the three of us exited the front door in silence. Desiree immediately lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, exhaled and then sighed audibly. She smiled at her girlfriend, who was flapping her hands to dissipate the smoke.
“Ahhhh, that’s the stuff.” Did I detect a purr?
"Hey, you're not done, are you?" Crest-fallen, the reaper looked at her and then back towards me. Flattered by the attention, I nevertheless wondered again if someone planned our little training session. Or, at least, expected it. It struck me as unfair that I might be chosen without my knowledge for such a responsibility. Leave that stuff to Vincent; I had a life to live. Made me think of the next item on my to-do list.
"Yeah. Fun's over, for now. You've got an element? Any further trip into that dump would have to be without fire." Sebastian look guilty. The girl slapped her scythe, causing it to emit a glittery cloud of sparks.
Lightning. Why was I expecting ice? Blue, right. Then I thought of the enemies in the hills and the cave. A sickle would clear away the nastiest of the grounders in short order.
"Where can I reach you, miss? Tomorrow okay? You’ll need some very warm clothes." She beamed at me, and indicated her pal.
"Desiree and I are both locals. They call me Sheol. Here, punch in our PHS numbers. And you can always find any of us in the tavern on weekend nights. Otherwise check with Eleanora Randolph, up at the chocobo ranch west of the base." We all exchanged codes.
"Breeders?" Both girls giggled and shook their heads. Sebastian pushed them aside and pointed at himself with his thumb.
"I'm the only professional. They are just good friends of Nora. We all help with the chocobos. I got my experience with the warriors in Wutai. Best in the West. Used to be the best on the Planet, until your Golds joined the races at the Saucer."
"Hah! Wutai! I knew it. Magnificent birds out that way. Can't wait to see what we've got for stock here. Maybe we can produce some Golds for the militia. See you all soon."
Worrying about the safety of the young soldiers had left me exhausted. Even skimming the ground, my feet could barely take me to the inn across the square, let alone to the Fruitlands. As soon as I entered, the innkeeper bustled over to offer me a chair, and I sank into it, bone weary. He quickly produced a small dusty bottle of some very fine Scotch, and poured us both a small libation.
"To my gracious host." I smiled gratefully, and sipped. Excellent stuff. He drained his glass, so I tossed mine back in one more gulp. The warmth moved down my throat and throughout my middle.
"Sir, you are a gentleman and a scholar." Just something my Dad always used to say. Most people over a certain age understood it to be a compliment. The innkeeper beamed, so I held the glass out for another. Then I reached into my kit and drew out the record file given me by Reeve Tuesti. Hojo could be very long-winded. The viewing might take hours.
"Sir. Would you scare me up a room with a private bath and a reader?"
Questionable Intentions
Flat-Out Unconscious
With two scotches warming my insides, I followed the innkeeper upstairs to the room. Right next to the one we used when we first came to Nibelheim, it was much smaller, cozier, and had a private bath. I nodded my approval, and began to take out the items I would need for the night.
The owner smiled and said, "If you lack something, don't hesitate to call. I'll check with you around sunset, see what you need or if you would like us to send up dinner." I thanked the gentleman and shut the door.
The viewer was situated next to a comfortable chair, but it was obviously intended to be watched from the double bed. I shifted everything around a bit and set the armchair directly in front of the screen, inserted the file and scanned past the spot I'd already seen with Reeve a few weeks earlier.
Once again it shocked me to see myself flat-out unconscious and strapped onto a gurney. The operating theater was fully lit for the production, but there was no audience, only Hojo and an assistant. She was another one of the doctors, but not one who dealt with me on a regular basis. Couldn’t even recall her name.
The two spoke directly to the camera, with the woman reading from notes. Hojo himself talked at length about the preparations for the procedures, all off the cuff, and with a certain amount of pride, if not outright gloating.
I listened with half an ear; this wasn't news to me. I began stripping off weapons and outerwear, because the room was too warm for extra clothing.
"The subject has been prepared with an injection of Jenova cells, and infusions of Mako, following the methodology used on any candidate for SOLDIER. However, in this case, extrapolating from her genetic map, we anticipate that the treatments will result in fecundity, regeneration, prophylaxis and amelioration.
“Additional hypotheses:
“Complete acceptance of the blastospheres, the ova of which were self-donated. At this point we are transferring identical, possibly mono-zygotic, twins, fertilized in vitro.
“Optimized gestation. That is, shortened trimesters, early delivery of the fetuses, and complete, rapid post-partum recovery."
Hojo's voice was beginning to sound like backgound noise, the way it had when I worked in his laboratories. He was always going on about his current experiments, and would talk incessantly to himself, sounding as if he were forever dictating a monograph. I'd heard it all before and was already losing interest; still I forced myself to listen and watch. After a while, the assistant took over the presentation, and began to drone about time lines, benchmarks, and other details expected during the pregnancy. Moving around in the backgound, Hojo performed the procedure, as the doctor described it in minute detail. I knew I was going to fall asleep, but I watched the Professor anyway, for as long as I could, both intrigued by the undertaking and sickened to be the laboratory subject.
Except for being unconscious, my body was handled in the clinical manner he used for any other process. Even though I was still shocked by this outrage, it was easy to forget that it was my own person he was using.
Until he took me by the elbows and gently shook me.
"Wake up, Josephine. Why are you staying here in town?"
An Offer of Wine
I blinked my eyes and the screen was blank, the file ended. No sound, no talking heads, no sheet-draped body in the background.
"Yipes, Vincent! I just dreamed you were Hojo. Must've dozed. Damn. I wanted to finish watching the darned thing. Geez, what a crashing bore. Whoever told him he was a genius?" I yawned right in Vincent's face, then sheepishly apologized.
"Sorry. It'll be a little while before I'm fit for company again."
"I'm not company, Josephine. Why did you take a room in town?" He sounded both impatient and uncertain, still holding me by my arms, waiting for me to recover consciousness. Felt sort of silly, being caught so completely off-guard, so I tried to shake the cobwebs from my brain.
"What time is it?" I looked around, but the windows were dark. Must have slept several hours.
"Well past the dinner hour." The fuzziness was finally leaving my skull and I checked the timepiece on the monitor. Yup, early evening.
"Vincent, what did you want? Why are you here? Is everything okay?"
"As a matter of fact, Josephine, everything is not okay. You did not return to the lodge, and no one knew your whereabouts. Neither did you answer your PHS. Through your cohorts, I traced you to the Shinra Mansion, where the trail stopped." He waited for my answer.
"I came directly here, where I’ve been watching Hojo's file, at least until I fell asleep." I realized I missed another chance to learn more about what the Professor did to me. I looked up into Vincent's face, thinking about the experimental subject, flat on her naked back. Me, that is. The irony was not lost on me. "Dinner time? You know, I'm not really hungry."
He sat me up on the bed, pushed away the chair, and turned off the viewer.
"Josephine, my best guess would be that you are still feeling the effects of liquor. The innkeeper seemed disappointed to learn that I was looking for you. If you insist on your independence, you need to be a little wary, at the very least, of the intentions of men offering alcohol. I warned you about the lifestyle here in Nibelheim."
That hurt. At my age, lectures were inappropriate. "What are you saying? He was a perfect gentleman. You are not being fair to him.”
“The perfect gentleman has a dinner ready to come up to the room, with two goblets and two unopened bottles of wine, a serving of marine crustaceans in butter sauce, and some extremely rich-looking dark and white chocolates. When I arrived to inquire about you, he was headed to the stairs with the tray set for two. You do not appear to me to have ordered dinner, or anything else for that matter.” Scolding again. Vincent could be so tiresome. In fact, the fellow still seemed like a gentleman to me. Wine, crustaceans, and chocolate would make a perfect dinner. Maybe I was hungry, after all.
“You know yourself that I can do stuff in my sleep. Wine, especially a nice, dry white, goes very well with crustaceans, and chocolate sounds like an order I would make, doesn’t it?” On the other hand, I doubted I would have returned to sleeping face down in front of the viewer. “So, where’s my dinner?”
“He said he would send one up with the evening’s special, shortly. Josephine, there is no other guest at this inn, let alone two. You are the only lodger so early in the evening.” Sounded suspiciously like fact, especially delivered with such a sour expression.
“Oh, dear. Must’ve caught his fancy. We are just about the same age, you know.” Vincent picked up my hand, raising the Damascene band to eye level.
“Apparently he was not about to allow a ring to interfere with his plans. Until I made certain to explain that I was looking for a lady of your description wearing the match to mine.”
There came a knock at the door, and Vincent opened it himself, filling the doorway. “Thank you, my good man. I can take it from here.” I heard the transfer of a small pile of gil. Then Vincent took the tray inside the room and pointedly shut the door in the face of our host. I felt guilty that I might have led the poor man on to this rejection, and said nothing during the interaction, unwilling to be a participant. I thought, for crying out loud, can’t a woman buy a drink when she’s alone? Then it occurred to me that I didn’t recall handing my host any cash.
“This time, there’s enough food for two, only a split of Fruitland’s Finest, and warm turnovers for dessert. Makes a much more substantial, not to say healthier, meal for a man and a woman.”
“And no one’s getting lucky afterwards.” I added tartly, feeling grouchy now that chocolate no longer figured into the repast. It still smarted that he probably was right about the innkeeper. Didn’t know if I should be disgusted or flattered by the attentions of the man.
“Oh, no? We shall have to see about that. Do you mind a fairly decent rosé with seafood?”
Evening at the Inn
Directing our attention to the excellent dinner, we ate in silence. Afterwards, Vincent stripped off his top, grabbed the carafe of rosé and poured me one half a glass. Then he drained the rest in one draught. Still always looked absurd to me. I doubt that an entire bottle would inebriate him, much less a split. Again, I was expected to make do with a few fingers. This time it wouldn't matter. I was still loguey from sleeping off the Scotch.
I prepared to undress, but he suddenly caught me up off the bed, gently lay me back down onto the coverlet, and began to untie my boots. From the looks of his efforts, he was not very skilled with laces, or, I surmised, ladies shoes in general. Absurd to watch him struggle with them.
"Vincent, what the hell?" He frowned, engrossed in his effort.
"Just let me undress you. I need the practice."
"Uh, if your performance the other night is any indication, I should say not."
"Josephine, it has nothing to do with--never mind. Shush." So I shushed while he awkwardly removed my things. It was puzzling, but certainly did the trick for me. Without another word, we made full use of our rare privacy. I never doubted for a moment that we were closely watched while at the lodge. Maybe Yuffie had it right; we were becoming an item, even in my own mind, and perhaps in everyone else’s opinion, too.
The early evening's loving was more robust than before. Didn't seem like he needed any practice to me. Very direct again, and yet starting out just as gentle and patient as before. I tried to be a little more forward, or maybe proactive, but Vincent overruled any of my efforts, with disapproving grunts.
Impatience crept into my thoughts: who does he think he is? No one could ever tell me how to act again. And I would be a fool to think I could own Vincent. Each of our trysts was simply that: separate, one-time occurrences. They couldn’t be an ongoing series, since we could never know if there would be another.
But at that instant, right after he closed his deep-red eyes, I was unquestionably his. Even in the warmth of the moment, this began to worry me. Once he was assured of my willing participation, Vincent seemed to begin to burn, slowly and progressively hotter, holding me closer and tighter, drawing his breath in deep rasps. I could feel he was overwhelming me again, and I struggled to maintain a separate identity. It was as if my own personality were evaporating in his heat.
Up until that moment, I hadn't realized that I had been gazing into his lovely ruby irises, and I felt unexpectedly bereft when he closed them. In turn, I shut my own, briefly regaining my sense of self. Then I could feel how just tightly he was clutching me. And he again kissed my mouth deeply enough to almost suffocate me.
I hate that.
No. At that very moment, I love it and want it more than I want life and breath. But even then I knew I would be appalled to later remember losing myself to his embrace and caresses and sounds. While we were much more comfortable with one another this time around, it almost felt like a sort of struggle. The effort to resist his assimilation of me proved draining, almost injurious. I gave up and became lost in the rhythm of his deep breathing. When we were both fulfilled, Vincent relaxed his grip on me, and I immediately fell into the deep, healing sleep.
Negotiations
"Josephine, get dressed, so we can return to the lodge." Vincent was himself ready to go, collecting my uniform and kit.
"No thanks. I've already paid for this room. See you sometime tomorrow." I pulled the coverlet around me and rolled toward the wall, to get away from him.
"I am returning to the Manor, and you cannot remain here alone. That wolf will surely return the moment I leave." At that, I had to giggle and finally laugh right out loud, but there was nothing humorous about it, and the mirth tasted bitter.
"What do you care, Vincent? You will be gone before I wake. Besides, can't you hear? The tavern is filling with patrons. He will be a very busy host, and at this hour he wouldn't pass on the opportunity to help the revelers spend their money. I can assure you that is all he really wants." Vincent was already pulling at my covers. He was dead serious and turned me so we could speak face to face.
"Is that it? You don't like rising alone? You know I do not sleep more than a few hours a night. It would be an unconscionable waste of my time to lie awake in the bed until morning." Rang true enough to me, but I had a question for him.
"Do you mind telling me what you do with your time?" He seemed uncertain, so I quickly added, "Gosh, Vincent. You don't have to tell me, if you don't want."
"I travel, to learn how things have changed over the last thirty years." He looked distant, almost in awe.
"Eh? I should've guessed. Don't bother with the details. I can imagine they fascinate you, but would bore the living daylights out of me. I've already lived through those years, and visited those places. See you tomorrow." I tried to turn over again, but the coverlet was off and being hastily folded.
"Get up and dress. You can't stay here: it's noisy, and I don't trust the innkeeper."
"Honestly, Vincent. Not like I can't just say no. Go. Home."
"Josephine. Dress and return with me. I will be there in the morning when you wake. You have my word. I didn't know it was important to you. You never cared before." For the moment he seemed confused and concerned.
"Maybe because, before, our nights together were against my will. It was never a pleasure.” Right then, that didn’t seem entirely true, and the thought made me sit up. I kicked my feet off the bed, and stood, looking around for my things, which were clumped in front of the viewer.
“I will dress and join you, Vincent, but you cannot expect me to follow you—or wait—or return if you won't even be there for me when I want you. Frankly, that's just stupid: I can't wait around for men. And when I go to sleep with someone, it's nice to see that person in the morning. You don't have to love me; just say Good Morning, or Good Bye, or something, anything." He looked shocked, then thoughtful, yet gave me no answer.
Great item we made. Couldn't communicate well. Could barely stand one another.
Nibelheim Nightlife
The tavern was full, dark and very smoky. It was no surprise that my assistants from the militia were all there, part of a loud and rowdy bunch. Standing at the foot of the stair, surveying the noisy scene, I was glad we couldn't stay, and turned toward the door, hoping to slip away unnoticed.
And ran right into our leering host, who welcomed us with wide smiles and open arms, shouting the top of his lungs.
"Dear friends! Can I interest you in a table and some refreshment before you leave?" He barely managed to make himself heard, and Vincent shook his head and pushed me past him.
A translucent fog of cigarette smoke floated about a foot over the heads of the patrons, the noisiest of which were the group of the young people I met earlier, all sitting around the table nearest the bar. Vincent was right: these people could party very heartily.
One small lady was the animated center of attention, telling and acting out a story. Sure enough, she saw me near the entrance and let out a piercing whistle.
"Fini! Over here!" My escort sighed and spoke directly into my ear.
“I will accompany you. Let’s not take too much time." Seemed mighty big of Vincent to offer me a few minutes with the kids. We worked our way through the standing crowd and pushed up to the table.
A gleeful Desiree was flanked by two taller blondes, one of whom leaned onto her shoulder, punctuating her every sentence with a giggle or a cheer. The girls were wearing shiny, spangled tops and tight jeans or very short skirts, all looking ready for some un-soldierly action. Because I was still in uniform, everyone in the place was dressed for an evening out except me. Even Vincent wore street clothes under his long, dark coat. I felt like a storm trooper, secret policewoman or something sinister.
The other, more subdued blonde actually had one hand on Sebastian, who was glumly nursing a drink at the table. At least they appeared to be together. This lady was an outsider, like me, and remained quietly attentive to others, just listening to all the conversation. She looked a little wide-eyed at us from under a curtain of silver bangs, so I shook her hand, without even trying to holler over the noise. Her guy brightened a little, just enough to acknowledge us, and then returned to his previous pose of ignoring all the merriment, as if drinking were supposed to be a very serious business.
Given the hour, it was practically appropriate that nearly all the patrons were in their cups. They saluted Vincent and me with respectful nods and raised glasses. Still, I got the feeling that our presence inhibited their fun, so I looked for the innkeeper. We found him monitoring the door, watching for new arrivals. He was in his element, as alcohol and gil were flowing freely. Watching his eyes gave me an idea, and I signalled to him. He came running, good-naturely jostling the crowd along the way.
I handed over all the cash I was carrying, and instructed him to buy a round for everyone. We could settle accounts later, if more money were needed. He counted the gil and assured me there was plenty. Then he gallantly opened the door for us, and we were out in the fresh, cool night air.
"Why didn't I think of that before? What a wonderful, sure-fire way to extricate oneself from unwanted revelry! We treat our friends, also allowing the innkeeper to see that we are out of money, and thereby causing him to lose interest in us." Vincent looked dubiously back toward the tavern.
"Surely there must be a less expensive way to make an exit."
"No doubt, but this way, no one will object to our going. We leave everyone happy. And it shuts down any further attempts to squeeze me for more money or time. I'm tired and I’m broke. Works for me!"
Without another word, my partner took me by the elbow and steered me towards the base.
With two scotches warming my insides, I followed the innkeeper upstairs to the room. Right next to the one we used when we first came to Nibelheim, it was much smaller, cozier, and had a private bath. I nodded my approval, and began to take out the items I would need for the night.
The owner smiled and said, "If you lack something, don't hesitate to call. I'll check with you around sunset, see what you need or if you would like us to send up dinner." I thanked the gentleman and shut the door.
The viewer was situated next to a comfortable chair, but it was obviously intended to be watched from the double bed. I shifted everything around a bit and set the armchair directly in front of the screen, inserted the file and scanned past the spot I'd already seen with Reeve a few weeks earlier.
Once again it shocked me to see myself flat-out unconscious and strapped onto a gurney. The operating theater was fully lit for the production, but there was no audience, only Hojo and an assistant. She was another one of the doctors, but not one who dealt with me on a regular basis. Couldn’t even recall her name.
The two spoke directly to the camera, with the woman reading from notes. Hojo himself talked at length about the preparations for the procedures, all off the cuff, and with a certain amount of pride, if not outright gloating.
I listened with half an ear; this wasn't news to me. I began stripping off weapons and outerwear, because the room was too warm for extra clothing.
"The subject has been prepared with an injection of Jenova cells, and infusions of Mako, following the methodology used on any candidate for SOLDIER. However, in this case, extrapolating from her genetic map, we anticipate that the treatments will result in fecundity, regeneration, prophylaxis and amelioration.
“Additional hypotheses:
“Complete acceptance of the blastospheres, the ova of which were self-donated. At this point we are transferring identical, possibly mono-zygotic, twins, fertilized in vitro.
“Optimized gestation. That is, shortened trimesters, early delivery of the fetuses, and complete, rapid post-partum recovery."
Hojo's voice was beginning to sound like backgound noise, the way it had when I worked in his laboratories. He was always going on about his current experiments, and would talk incessantly to himself, sounding as if he were forever dictating a monograph. I'd heard it all before and was already losing interest; still I forced myself to listen and watch. After a while, the assistant took over the presentation, and began to drone about time lines, benchmarks, and other details expected during the pregnancy. Moving around in the backgound, Hojo performed the procedure, as the doctor described it in minute detail. I knew I was going to fall asleep, but I watched the Professor anyway, for as long as I could, both intrigued by the undertaking and sickened to be the laboratory subject.
Except for being unconscious, my body was handled in the clinical manner he used for any other process. Even though I was still shocked by this outrage, it was easy to forget that it was my own person he was using.
Until he took me by the elbows and gently shook me.
"Wake up, Josephine. Why are you staying here in town?"
An Offer of Wine
I blinked my eyes and the screen was blank, the file ended. No sound, no talking heads, no sheet-draped body in the background.
"Yipes, Vincent! I just dreamed you were Hojo. Must've dozed. Damn. I wanted to finish watching the darned thing. Geez, what a crashing bore. Whoever told him he was a genius?" I yawned right in Vincent's face, then sheepishly apologized.
"Sorry. It'll be a little while before I'm fit for company again."
"I'm not company, Josephine. Why did you take a room in town?" He sounded both impatient and uncertain, still holding me by my arms, waiting for me to recover consciousness. Felt sort of silly, being caught so completely off-guard, so I tried to shake the cobwebs from my brain.
"What time is it?" I looked around, but the windows were dark. Must have slept several hours.
"Well past the dinner hour." The fuzziness was finally leaving my skull and I checked the timepiece on the monitor. Yup, early evening.
"Vincent, what did you want? Why are you here? Is everything okay?"
"As a matter of fact, Josephine, everything is not okay. You did not return to the lodge, and no one knew your whereabouts. Neither did you answer your PHS. Through your cohorts, I traced you to the Shinra Mansion, where the trail stopped." He waited for my answer.
"I came directly here, where I’ve been watching Hojo's file, at least until I fell asleep." I realized I missed another chance to learn more about what the Professor did to me. I looked up into Vincent's face, thinking about the experimental subject, flat on her naked back. Me, that is. The irony was not lost on me. "Dinner time? You know, I'm not really hungry."
He sat me up on the bed, pushed away the chair, and turned off the viewer.
"Josephine, my best guess would be that you are still feeling the effects of liquor. The innkeeper seemed disappointed to learn that I was looking for you. If you insist on your independence, you need to be a little wary, at the very least, of the intentions of men offering alcohol. I warned you about the lifestyle here in Nibelheim."
That hurt. At my age, lectures were inappropriate. "What are you saying? He was a perfect gentleman. You are not being fair to him.”
“The perfect gentleman has a dinner ready to come up to the room, with two goblets and two unopened bottles of wine, a serving of marine crustaceans in butter sauce, and some extremely rich-looking dark and white chocolates. When I arrived to inquire about you, he was headed to the stairs with the tray set for two. You do not appear to me to have ordered dinner, or anything else for that matter.” Scolding again. Vincent could be so tiresome. In fact, the fellow still seemed like a gentleman to me. Wine, crustaceans, and chocolate would make a perfect dinner. Maybe I was hungry, after all.
“You know yourself that I can do stuff in my sleep. Wine, especially a nice, dry white, goes very well with crustaceans, and chocolate sounds like an order I would make, doesn’t it?” On the other hand, I doubted I would have returned to sleeping face down in front of the viewer. “So, where’s my dinner?”
“He said he would send one up with the evening’s special, shortly. Josephine, there is no other guest at this inn, let alone two. You are the only lodger so early in the evening.” Sounded suspiciously like fact, especially delivered with such a sour expression.
“Oh, dear. Must’ve caught his fancy. We are just about the same age, you know.” Vincent picked up my hand, raising the Damascene band to eye level.
“Apparently he was not about to allow a ring to interfere with his plans. Until I made certain to explain that I was looking for a lady of your description wearing the match to mine.”
There came a knock at the door, and Vincent opened it himself, filling the doorway. “Thank you, my good man. I can take it from here.” I heard the transfer of a small pile of gil. Then Vincent took the tray inside the room and pointedly shut the door in the face of our host. I felt guilty that I might have led the poor man on to this rejection, and said nothing during the interaction, unwilling to be a participant. I thought, for crying out loud, can’t a woman buy a drink when she’s alone? Then it occurred to me that I didn’t recall handing my host any cash.
“This time, there’s enough food for two, only a split of Fruitland’s Finest, and warm turnovers for dessert. Makes a much more substantial, not to say healthier, meal for a man and a woman.”
“And no one’s getting lucky afterwards.” I added tartly, feeling grouchy now that chocolate no longer figured into the repast. It still smarted that he probably was right about the innkeeper. Didn’t know if I should be disgusted or flattered by the attentions of the man.
“Oh, no? We shall have to see about that. Do you mind a fairly decent rosé with seafood?”
Evening at the Inn
Directing our attention to the excellent dinner, we ate in silence. Afterwards, Vincent stripped off his top, grabbed the carafe of rosé and poured me one half a glass. Then he drained the rest in one draught. Still always looked absurd to me. I doubt that an entire bottle would inebriate him, much less a split. Again, I was expected to make do with a few fingers. This time it wouldn't matter. I was still loguey from sleeping off the Scotch.
I prepared to undress, but he suddenly caught me up off the bed, gently lay me back down onto the coverlet, and began to untie my boots. From the looks of his efforts, he was not very skilled with laces, or, I surmised, ladies shoes in general. Absurd to watch him struggle with them.
"Vincent, what the hell?" He frowned, engrossed in his effort.
"Just let me undress you. I need the practice."
"Uh, if your performance the other night is any indication, I should say not."
"Josephine, it has nothing to do with--never mind. Shush." So I shushed while he awkwardly removed my things. It was puzzling, but certainly did the trick for me. Without another word, we made full use of our rare privacy. I never doubted for a moment that we were closely watched while at the lodge. Maybe Yuffie had it right; we were becoming an item, even in my own mind, and perhaps in everyone else’s opinion, too.
The early evening's loving was more robust than before. Didn't seem like he needed any practice to me. Very direct again, and yet starting out just as gentle and patient as before. I tried to be a little more forward, or maybe proactive, but Vincent overruled any of my efforts, with disapproving grunts.
Impatience crept into my thoughts: who does he think he is? No one could ever tell me how to act again. And I would be a fool to think I could own Vincent. Each of our trysts was simply that: separate, one-time occurrences. They couldn’t be an ongoing series, since we could never know if there would be another.
But at that instant, right after he closed his deep-red eyes, I was unquestionably his. Even in the warmth of the moment, this began to worry me. Once he was assured of my willing participation, Vincent seemed to begin to burn, slowly and progressively hotter, holding me closer and tighter, drawing his breath in deep rasps. I could feel he was overwhelming me again, and I struggled to maintain a separate identity. It was as if my own personality were evaporating in his heat.
Up until that moment, I hadn't realized that I had been gazing into his lovely ruby irises, and I felt unexpectedly bereft when he closed them. In turn, I shut my own, briefly regaining my sense of self. Then I could feel how just tightly he was clutching me. And he again kissed my mouth deeply enough to almost suffocate me.
I hate that.
No. At that very moment, I love it and want it more than I want life and breath. But even then I knew I would be appalled to later remember losing myself to his embrace and caresses and sounds. While we were much more comfortable with one another this time around, it almost felt like a sort of struggle. The effort to resist his assimilation of me proved draining, almost injurious. I gave up and became lost in the rhythm of his deep breathing. When we were both fulfilled, Vincent relaxed his grip on me, and I immediately fell into the deep, healing sleep.
Negotiations
"Josephine, get dressed, so we can return to the lodge." Vincent was himself ready to go, collecting my uniform and kit.
"No thanks. I've already paid for this room. See you sometime tomorrow." I pulled the coverlet around me and rolled toward the wall, to get away from him.
"I am returning to the Manor, and you cannot remain here alone. That wolf will surely return the moment I leave." At that, I had to giggle and finally laugh right out loud, but there was nothing humorous about it, and the mirth tasted bitter.
"What do you care, Vincent? You will be gone before I wake. Besides, can't you hear? The tavern is filling with patrons. He will be a very busy host, and at this hour he wouldn't pass on the opportunity to help the revelers spend their money. I can assure you that is all he really wants." Vincent was already pulling at my covers. He was dead serious and turned me so we could speak face to face.
"Is that it? You don't like rising alone? You know I do not sleep more than a few hours a night. It would be an unconscionable waste of my time to lie awake in the bed until morning." Rang true enough to me, but I had a question for him.
"Do you mind telling me what you do with your time?" He seemed uncertain, so I quickly added, "Gosh, Vincent. You don't have to tell me, if you don't want."
"I travel, to learn how things have changed over the last thirty years." He looked distant, almost in awe.
"Eh? I should've guessed. Don't bother with the details. I can imagine they fascinate you, but would bore the living daylights out of me. I've already lived through those years, and visited those places. See you tomorrow." I tried to turn over again, but the coverlet was off and being hastily folded.
"Get up and dress. You can't stay here: it's noisy, and I don't trust the innkeeper."
"Honestly, Vincent. Not like I can't just say no. Go. Home."
"Josephine. Dress and return with me. I will be there in the morning when you wake. You have my word. I didn't know it was important to you. You never cared before." For the moment he seemed confused and concerned.
"Maybe because, before, our nights together were against my will. It was never a pleasure.” Right then, that didn’t seem entirely true, and the thought made me sit up. I kicked my feet off the bed, and stood, looking around for my things, which were clumped in front of the viewer.
“I will dress and join you, Vincent, but you cannot expect me to follow you—or wait—or return if you won't even be there for me when I want you. Frankly, that's just stupid: I can't wait around for men. And when I go to sleep with someone, it's nice to see that person in the morning. You don't have to love me; just say Good Morning, or Good Bye, or something, anything." He looked shocked, then thoughtful, yet gave me no answer.
Great item we made. Couldn't communicate well. Could barely stand one another.
Nibelheim Nightlife
The tavern was full, dark and very smoky. It was no surprise that my assistants from the militia were all there, part of a loud and rowdy bunch. Standing at the foot of the stair, surveying the noisy scene, I was glad we couldn't stay, and turned toward the door, hoping to slip away unnoticed.
And ran right into our leering host, who welcomed us with wide smiles and open arms, shouting the top of his lungs.
"Dear friends! Can I interest you in a table and some refreshment before you leave?" He barely managed to make himself heard, and Vincent shook his head and pushed me past him.
A translucent fog of cigarette smoke floated about a foot over the heads of the patrons, the noisiest of which were the group of the young people I met earlier, all sitting around the table nearest the bar. Vincent was right: these people could party very heartily.
One small lady was the animated center of attention, telling and acting out a story. Sure enough, she saw me near the entrance and let out a piercing whistle.
"Fini! Over here!" My escort sighed and spoke directly into my ear.
“I will accompany you. Let’s not take too much time." Seemed mighty big of Vincent to offer me a few minutes with the kids. We worked our way through the standing crowd and pushed up to the table.
A gleeful Desiree was flanked by two taller blondes, one of whom leaned onto her shoulder, punctuating her every sentence with a giggle or a cheer. The girls were wearing shiny, spangled tops and tight jeans or very short skirts, all looking ready for some un-soldierly action. Because I was still in uniform, everyone in the place was dressed for an evening out except me. Even Vincent wore street clothes under his long, dark coat. I felt like a storm trooper, secret policewoman or something sinister.
The other, more subdued blonde actually had one hand on Sebastian, who was glumly nursing a drink at the table. At least they appeared to be together. This lady was an outsider, like me, and remained quietly attentive to others, just listening to all the conversation. She looked a little wide-eyed at us from under a curtain of silver bangs, so I shook her hand, without even trying to holler over the noise. Her guy brightened a little, just enough to acknowledge us, and then returned to his previous pose of ignoring all the merriment, as if drinking were supposed to be a very serious business.
Given the hour, it was practically appropriate that nearly all the patrons were in their cups. They saluted Vincent and me with respectful nods and raised glasses. Still, I got the feeling that our presence inhibited their fun, so I looked for the innkeeper. We found him monitoring the door, watching for new arrivals. He was in his element, as alcohol and gil were flowing freely. Watching his eyes gave me an idea, and I signalled to him. He came running, good-naturely jostling the crowd along the way.
I handed over all the cash I was carrying, and instructed him to buy a round for everyone. We could settle accounts later, if more money were needed. He counted the gil and assured me there was plenty. Then he gallantly opened the door for us, and we were out in the fresh, cool night air.
"Why didn't I think of that before? What a wonderful, sure-fire way to extricate oneself from unwanted revelry! We treat our friends, also allowing the innkeeper to see that we are out of money, and thereby causing him to lose interest in us." Vincent looked dubiously back toward the tavern.
"Surely there must be a less expensive way to make an exit."
"No doubt, but this way, no one will object to our going. We leave everyone happy. And it shuts down any further attempts to squeeze me for more money or time. I'm tired and I’m broke. Works for me!"
Without another word, my partner took me by the elbow and steered me towards the base.
The Mommy and the Monster
Sunshine in the Window
As promised, Vincent was still in the room at daybreak. When I woke, I reached for him, but again, the bed was empty.
“Over here, Josephine. Good morning.” My roomie was standing by an open window, staring into the morning light. He looked the proper gentleman in a black ensemble, complete with his topcoat. I stretched and smiled, looking for something to say.
“What do you see?”
“Children playing outside the crèche.” Whoa. Never could imagine him interested in watching kids on a playground. Gave me almost a creepy feeling. He raised his hand, briefly in front of his face. Waving?
“Who is out there?”
“My grandchildren.”
Mother of pearl! I nearly fell off the bed. Grabbing the coverlet around me, I ran to the window, trying not to step into view. The playground was full of children, none of which could be more than ten years old. They were exactly as I would expect the children of Nibelheim to look: all shades of brown hair and dark eyes, dressed in the same red-and-black as the adults. It was impossible to tell their sexes from such a distance. They were running, screaming, and play fighting; it was just as it should be.
“Which of them call you Grampa?” I only half-joked.
“None. Watch.” He motioned again. Only two were still looking our way, and enthusiastically waved back. “They call me Vincent, for now. When they are older, they will understand how it happened that we have not aged properly.” He sounded rueful, like he actually felt his physical youth a burden. This was a revelation to me, since I had never mentioned my own personal regret over the situation. Didn’t think anyone would understand, least of all my stoic lover. But given the children before us, proper aging would have had obvious benefits for a grandfather.
“I think I understand.” Never would I suggest that I totally understood, but it seemed appropriate to offer some consolation.
“Yes. You, of all people, should. When you encounter your daughters in the future, you will certainly will. Josephine, we will need each other as the rest of the world moves on.”
“No, I don’t feel immortal; I’m always tired and need plenty of sleep. Same as everyone else.
“Vincent, are you ready to leave? We can go together, if you like.”
He shook his head, and indicated the play yard. “The children are expecting me again this morning. I’ve already been out, looking over the laboratory you ransacked yesterday. I found this monograph that you shouldn’t miss. Will you visit Mt. Nibel today?” Should have known he would have to check out my plans. I saw the title and beamed at him. So unexpectedly thoughtful.
“Why, Vincent, thank you! If I can find my sidekick, yeah, sure. Sheol told me to find her at Eleanora’s chocobo ranch.”
“There is a very light vest waiting for you at the armory. Please wear it, until more protective gear can be arranged. You will be the most experienced of your party, and cannot expect the young people to protect you as we did. In fact, they likely will need your protection instead.”
“Absolutely. Thanks. I hadn’t thought about it before, and got a tad burnt in the Shinra Mansion.”
“I heard all about it. Take no chances. Remember, you will no doubt be expected to guard the safety of other inexperienced soldiers today. Fortunately there shouldn’t be anything you can’t handle, as I remember.
“Goodbye and good luck.” With that, Vincent walked out the door, shutting it gently behind him.
Wasn’t sure if that was an improvement over waking alone.
The Monograph
Waiting for the Hatching
I washed and wandered out of the lodge, not even stopping for breakfast. It would never work; mornings were not a good time to eat, anymore. The armory was right there, on the way out of the base.
My new armor was a thick leather doublet that hung just below my waist, to the hip. I slipped it on and tried to get used to it as I walked west. There was the rifle range on the left, against the hillside, and a lone soldier already taking some practice in the morning sun, making use of the alleys by herself.
Even bulky ear protection couldn’t hide the silvery-blonde hair of Sebastian Cyan’s escort from the previous night. She would face away from the target, turn suddenly, point and discharge her shotgun, peppering the mark every time, gracefully moving up and down the range at a constant, almost casual stroll, occasionally stopping to quickly reload in a series of fluid motions. Zen and double-barrel shotguns? When I thought about it, though, it seemed a good thing, given the long straight hair that practically covered her eyes. The willowy silvery-blonde looked like a warrior demi-goddess, taking no notice of anything around her and serenely going about her business. At her back was a wide spread of fencing and farm buildings. The chocobo ranch itself was nearby, with the reports echoing back and forth between the buildings and the hillside.
While the smaller, younger chicks were responding to the gunshots with short flurries of squawking, most of the birds paid no attention, already quite accustomed to the noise of battle. A small black figure pushed past a flock of yellows and waved to me. The great birds made her look like a nun or monk in dark robes. Her spectacles shone in the morning sun as she walked up to meet me at the gate.
My new vest still felt a tad heavy, but worked well with the woolen cape to keep me warm in the frigid mountain air. This time the wind wouldn’t prematurely chase me back to town. For her part, Sheol wore a gorgeous, red and black greatcoat with shining armored fastenings, each ready for materia. The extra layer of the shorter, caped shoulders would work perfectly in the coldest regions of the Nibel area.
We spent the morning inspecting the ranch. Among the many fine, healthy yellows, there also were two blue chocobos and even a green; all three would be useful for marches and reconnaissance. The Fruitlands sat in front of a nearly hidden waterfall whose headwaters formed the source of the mighty white-water river that irrigated the orchards and fields. With the ocean almost within earshot, it made sense that the people considered their area to be somewhat maritime. Not quite nautically-oriented, Nibelheim was wedded to both ocean and hillside, and looked it. I was beginning to become fond of the place, and planned to spend a few months there before heading back to Midgar.
By the time we were done reviewing the ranch, I was really looking forward to checking around for our local dragons. Among all the lindworms on the planet, the smaller cave dwellers of Mt. Nibel had actually been ridden into battle. I explained this to my new companion with barely contained excitement.
My sidekick smiled and murmured a little “that’s interesting” just to placate me. Or maybe to shut me up.
Excitement was not Sheol’s long suit. Today she looked calm, almost dour, especially wrapped in all the black wool. A wild, thick mane of dark hair and big brown eyes behind the latest “Materia” frames belied the “Grim Reaper” persona she cultivated, though. When speaking about her battle expectations, she became quite animated, returning to the eager girl from the day before. We both agreed we couldn’t wait to see the scythe in action in the caves, and as soon as I could politely extract us from Nora’s tour of her pride and joy, we went straight to Mt. Nibel, going around the reactor to the small opening in the hill. It was the only unfrozen place in the vicinity, and still we could see our breath in the morning air.
We became much more comfortable the deeper we walked into the cave. I poked around, allowing Sheol to clean up any small swarms of insect-like Kyuvildens. Lightning didn’t seem to bother them much, but she hacked away with a will, and managed to do the job by relying on dogged determination. Screamers were more trouble, and I intervened just enough to protect her from their Iron Ball attacks. Otherwise, it was all her show: the Grim Reaper having her way with all enemies, sweeping them off the face of the Planet, or at least off the floor of the caves, with electricity sparkling and reflecting off the walls and roof. Finally, in a low, compact grotto nearest the core of the mountain, we spied a lone, brooding female dragon, tucked comfortably into a warm spot.
This lady was a glittering jewel-green, with pink breast and underside, attending a full nursery of at least a dozen eggs. Never knew they lay so many. They must suffer a huge loss to predators, since the dragons themselves are so rare. I remembered that my Grampa used to say they were well-regarded in Ancient Asia, steadfast creatures that wouldn’t leave the eggs until they hatched. That could take weeks, during which time they fasted, and dedicated themselves only to brooding. This girl was serenely lying with her head resting on her front claws, looking for all the world like a elongated, hairless green cat, ready for a long nap with her future babies. I fell in love at with that vision of maternal patience, waiting for the hatching. I whispered to Sheol.
“Remember, we are not here to kill dragons. I don’t kill dragons. Please don’t, while you’re with me, unless it’s necessary to save your comrades. If you see me Glow, signal to me, so I can touch you first. Don't grab my arm or shoulder.” Wouldn’t want to be responsible for the death of a soldier. My buddy nodded, and murmured an uncommitted “uh-huh,” clearly not convinced. Then she looked around behind me, her eyes suddenly widening.
Catastrophe
“Wow! What’s that? I’ve never seen one here. Its color’s completely different.” Sheol pointed with the scythe toward an opening from another chamber, one we’d not yet inspected. Inside the creature was similar to the Mommy, only a deep, glossy indigo, quite a bit larger and definitely tougher-looking. He was moving slowly toward the brooding female.
“That’s a Blue Dragon, I think. It has no business here, so far south. Looking for a mate, maybe?” The answer was immediate. Our local lady was in no mood for love, and viciously attacked the other, even as he lowered his snaky neck to her. Stunned and thrown backwards, the Blue recovered in short order, returning with a Great Gale attack that blew all around the cave. We were also tossed in the wind, and the Glow ignited. We tried to hide among the eggs, but it soon looked like a bad idea and we pushed away, sidling with our backs against the walls.
The two writhed, biting and clawing, glittering and sparking, brightly colored monsters battling in a swirling sea of ice, wind and fire. The nursery was soon devastated by the weight of the behemoth lizards, as they crashed around, each determined to eliminate the other. The sounds of hissing and screeching were deafening, and shock waves added to the chaos.
“There go my hopes of stealing an egg.” I muttered this comment, sotto voce, to Sheol. It didn’t matter if she heard me or not, because I hadn’t told her of my plans to raise the little monsters. She was touching my arm, fully protected by the Glow, holding her breath, impressed by the fight.
The Blue Dragon was obviously superior in size and might, but the spectacle was quickly over, with our local lady as the victor. The vanquished male dropped heavily to the floor of the cave and rolled away. He decided to follow Cupid elsewhere, ultimately raising himself on visibly wounded wings, bellowing all the while. No surprise there: the female was defending her eggs. Like any good warrior-mother, she’d simply not reacted to any injury inflicted by the other during battle. It was the blue guy that had me wondering: exactly why was it here, so far from Gaia’s Cliffs? Had we upset the ecosystem, while searching for a way to the North Crater? I had always felt that nothing good would come from eliminating so many dragons while we were on the road. Bad karma will out, and I hoped we hadn’t accrued enough to push them into extinction.
Sheol had returned to attention, so I pulled her away to the edge of the grotto, ultimately hiding us behind a stalagmite. I hoped the Glow wouldn’t give us away.
Needn’t have wondered. The lindworm was mortally wounded, and slipping away fast, even as she dragged herself over to her nest. She wrapped herself around the clutch of broken eggs and seemed to expire, breathing a long plume of smoke. I felt incredibly sad for her. The eggshells were mostly scattered shards, the baby dragons, not fully formed, making only a few feeble motions before dying themselves. None that I could see were in any shape to be rescued, still way too young by days, or maybe even weeks. What would we do, anyway? Could they be incubated with lamps, like chocobos? I touched the huge, iridescent green head, caressing its sparkling scales gently, tentatively imparting the tiniest flow of curing.
“Sorry, Lady. Looks like it was all in vain. But you gave the best you could, Hon.” Then I nearly soiled myself when she opened a big cat’s-eye to look at me and began to shudder.
“Still there, Little One? Let’s see what we can do.” I reached over to her, directing all my energy to trying to heal however I could. After all, right now she was my best hope of being a dragon rider. I wasn’t sure I could cure the huge reptile, or any animal besides Man. Never tried before. I let out as much healing and curing as I could without harming myself. The shuddering stopped and the poor thing sighed again, still looking at me.
Then, moaning with the effort, she rolled over onto her back. She was giving me her belly. I took a deep breath and tried again. There was no doubt she was more comfortable, but now I could see all her worst injuries, naturally, there on her unprotected underside. It took about an hour, and nearly all my strength and every item I had at hand, but one by one, each burn, gash and laceration healed, and the injured lizard finally went to sleep. It might still be her last night on the Planet. I wished I could weep for her, my heart was so wounded by her brave last stand against an outsider, and touched by the way she trusted me to help.
“Look, Fini. Here is one more egg, left unbroken.” Sheol was caressing an intact survivor, picking off pieces of other, broken shells. We rolled the case over to its Mommy, tucking it against her side. Then we checked around the nursery, but there were no others. Already the cave’s vermin were dragging away the massacred dragon chicks. For once, their nasty occupation seemed to me a good thing: the wounded warrior wouldn’t have to look at her dead babies.
“We can check back in the morning. She’ll probably have died by then, and we can remove it safely. With any luck, Eleanora will have an incubation chamber large enough. Hell, maybe we can rig something.” I swallowed a few times, feeling a little silly, with the young soldier trying to avert her eyes.
Another respectful nod. I was beginning to get used to everyone thinking I was mad.
Maybe everybody was right.
As promised, Vincent was still in the room at daybreak. When I woke, I reached for him, but again, the bed was empty.
“Over here, Josephine. Good morning.” My roomie was standing by an open window, staring into the morning light. He looked the proper gentleman in a black ensemble, complete with his topcoat. I stretched and smiled, looking for something to say.
“What do you see?”
“Children playing outside the crèche.” Whoa. Never could imagine him interested in watching kids on a playground. Gave me almost a creepy feeling. He raised his hand, briefly in front of his face. Waving?
“Who is out there?”
“My grandchildren.”
Mother of pearl! I nearly fell off the bed. Grabbing the coverlet around me, I ran to the window, trying not to step into view. The playground was full of children, none of which could be more than ten years old. They were exactly as I would expect the children of Nibelheim to look: all shades of brown hair and dark eyes, dressed in the same red-and-black as the adults. It was impossible to tell their sexes from such a distance. They were running, screaming, and play fighting; it was just as it should be.
“Which of them call you Grampa?” I only half-joked.
“None. Watch.” He motioned again. Only two were still looking our way, and enthusiastically waved back. “They call me Vincent, for now. When they are older, they will understand how it happened that we have not aged properly.” He sounded rueful, like he actually felt his physical youth a burden. This was a revelation to me, since I had never mentioned my own personal regret over the situation. Didn’t think anyone would understand, least of all my stoic lover. But given the children before us, proper aging would have had obvious benefits for a grandfather.
“I think I understand.” Never would I suggest that I totally understood, but it seemed appropriate to offer some consolation.
“Yes. You, of all people, should. When you encounter your daughters in the future, you will certainly will. Josephine, we will need each other as the rest of the world moves on.”
“No, I don’t feel immortal; I’m always tired and need plenty of sleep. Same as everyone else.
“Vincent, are you ready to leave? We can go together, if you like.”
He shook his head, and indicated the play yard. “The children are expecting me again this morning. I’ve already been out, looking over the laboratory you ransacked yesterday. I found this monograph that you shouldn’t miss. Will you visit Mt. Nibel today?” Should have known he would have to check out my plans. I saw the title and beamed at him. So unexpectedly thoughtful.
“Why, Vincent, thank you! If I can find my sidekick, yeah, sure. Sheol told me to find her at Eleanora’s chocobo ranch.”
“There is a very light vest waiting for you at the armory. Please wear it, until more protective gear can be arranged. You will be the most experienced of your party, and cannot expect the young people to protect you as we did. In fact, they likely will need your protection instead.”
“Absolutely. Thanks. I hadn’t thought about it before, and got a tad burnt in the Shinra Mansion.”
“I heard all about it. Take no chances. Remember, you will no doubt be expected to guard the safety of other inexperienced soldiers today. Fortunately there shouldn’t be anything you can’t handle, as I remember.
“Goodbye and good luck.” With that, Vincent walked out the door, shutting it gently behind him.
Wasn’t sure if that was an improvement over waking alone.
The Monograph
MATING AND REPRODUCTION IN EGG-LAYING HOMOIOTHERMIC VERTEBRATES:
DRAGON (LINDWORM)
Dragons were once believed to survive up to 1,000 years, but in modern times it is unlikely they live more than 300. Whether this is due to earlier inaccurate reporting or recent changes in climate and habitat has yet to be verifiably documented.
While feral specimens are generally hostile to man and can be dangerous when encountered in the wild, historically, dragons are easily tamed and can be trained to take a rider.
Females are patient brooders and watchful, indulgent parents. One contented female (often called a hen), properly attended and serviced, can produce up to a dozen young each breeding season. Breeding seasons are spaced by the existence of dependent chicks. Chicks, or dragonets, may leave the nest as early as three years, or as late as ten. Often this depends on the local climate, availability of food, (their favorite being arthropods) and other living conditions.
Both male and female dragons of all varieties are sexually mature and ready for breeding at about twenty-five to thirty years. The male, sometimes called a drake, is a solicitous suitor, approaching cautiously, while making a cooing, or almost felid purring noise. He will usually extend his neck to stroke that of the female. If she accepts his advances, she will return the caress and permit him to remain. Some attachments last a lifetime, as with the ancient lindworms of the North Continent ice caves. Most modern varieties are solitary, taking a mate only to reproduce, and chasing him away with abandoned violence before the eggs are laid. Again, whether this is caused by reduction in habitat, changes in climate, or other stress has not been fully researched.
No males should be introduced to a gestating or brooding female. Allow the mother to approach only her mate, and at her own initiative, well outside the nest. Otherwise, both unhatched eggs and hatchlings may be destroyed in the ensuing defensive battle that may also result in the death of one or both dragons.
The female will sit with her entire clutch tucked against her delicate, pliant underside. The plate-less, suede-like area just below the forelegs constitutes the brooding spot, and must be kept clean and free of scar tissue. Incubation temperature is the same as that of the human body, 37˚C. It should be maintained without interruption, and the hen remains on the eggs, fasting for the duration in the wild. This typically takes up to five months.
In popular lore, the brood spot is believed to have been what first attracted man to the lindworms in prehistoric times. A smaller, infant-accepting (or broody) female was reportedly kept to warm children while human parents were hunting and gathering, much in the same way people today may keep a pet in their lap or on their bed for warmth. This became a common practice used to console a bereft hen when its hatchlings died or were otherwise removed, often for taming.
Orphaned dragons have been successfully hand raised since ancient times. The following feeding mixture is an update of a formula used by many stable masters, as recently as fifty years ago.
Hatchling Feed:
Not suitable for dragonets over six weeks. Not to be used while hatchling is with mother, as it will cause the female to reject the chick.
420 g minced fowl
70 g coarse grain
2 raw eggs
70 ml olive oil
5 g calcium carbonate
5 ml vitamin E
1.5 ml Avi-drops
600 ml water
Humans can easily incubate dragon eggs, keeping them against their uncovered skin or tied onto the front of the torso with a sling or pack. Dragon-squires were often conscripted to this function, creating a remarkable bond between rider and steed, usually unbroken except by death.
The noble dragon is a fierce fighter and true ally in battle, venerated in the Ancient World as a symbol of loyalty, prosperity and good fortune.
Shinra Research and Development
Nibelheim Laboratory
Waiting for the Hatching
I washed and wandered out of the lodge, not even stopping for breakfast. It would never work; mornings were not a good time to eat, anymore. The armory was right there, on the way out of the base.
My new armor was a thick leather doublet that hung just below my waist, to the hip. I slipped it on and tried to get used to it as I walked west. There was the rifle range on the left, against the hillside, and a lone soldier already taking some practice in the morning sun, making use of the alleys by herself.
Even bulky ear protection couldn’t hide the silvery-blonde hair of Sebastian Cyan’s escort from the previous night. She would face away from the target, turn suddenly, point and discharge her shotgun, peppering the mark every time, gracefully moving up and down the range at a constant, almost casual stroll, occasionally stopping to quickly reload in a series of fluid motions. Zen and double-barrel shotguns? When I thought about it, though, it seemed a good thing, given the long straight hair that practically covered her eyes. The willowy silvery-blonde looked like a warrior demi-goddess, taking no notice of anything around her and serenely going about her business. At her back was a wide spread of fencing and farm buildings. The chocobo ranch itself was nearby, with the reports echoing back and forth between the buildings and the hillside.
While the smaller, younger chicks were responding to the gunshots with short flurries of squawking, most of the birds paid no attention, already quite accustomed to the noise of battle. A small black figure pushed past a flock of yellows and waved to me. The great birds made her look like a nun or monk in dark robes. Her spectacles shone in the morning sun as she walked up to meet me at the gate.
My new vest still felt a tad heavy, but worked well with the woolen cape to keep me warm in the frigid mountain air. This time the wind wouldn’t prematurely chase me back to town. For her part, Sheol wore a gorgeous, red and black greatcoat with shining armored fastenings, each ready for materia. The extra layer of the shorter, caped shoulders would work perfectly in the coldest regions of the Nibel area.
We spent the morning inspecting the ranch. Among the many fine, healthy yellows, there also were two blue chocobos and even a green; all three would be useful for marches and reconnaissance. The Fruitlands sat in front of a nearly hidden waterfall whose headwaters formed the source of the mighty white-water river that irrigated the orchards and fields. With the ocean almost within earshot, it made sense that the people considered their area to be somewhat maritime. Not quite nautically-oriented, Nibelheim was wedded to both ocean and hillside, and looked it. I was beginning to become fond of the place, and planned to spend a few months there before heading back to Midgar.
By the time we were done reviewing the ranch, I was really looking forward to checking around for our local dragons. Among all the lindworms on the planet, the smaller cave dwellers of Mt. Nibel had actually been ridden into battle. I explained this to my new companion with barely contained excitement.
My sidekick smiled and murmured a little “that’s interesting” just to placate me. Or maybe to shut me up.
Excitement was not Sheol’s long suit. Today she looked calm, almost dour, especially wrapped in all the black wool. A wild, thick mane of dark hair and big brown eyes behind the latest “Materia” frames belied the “Grim Reaper” persona she cultivated, though. When speaking about her battle expectations, she became quite animated, returning to the eager girl from the day before. We both agreed we couldn’t wait to see the scythe in action in the caves, and as soon as I could politely extract us from Nora’s tour of her pride and joy, we went straight to Mt. Nibel, going around the reactor to the small opening in the hill. It was the only unfrozen place in the vicinity, and still we could see our breath in the morning air.
We became much more comfortable the deeper we walked into the cave. I poked around, allowing Sheol to clean up any small swarms of insect-like Kyuvildens. Lightning didn’t seem to bother them much, but she hacked away with a will, and managed to do the job by relying on dogged determination. Screamers were more trouble, and I intervened just enough to protect her from their Iron Ball attacks. Otherwise, it was all her show: the Grim Reaper having her way with all enemies, sweeping them off the face of the Planet, or at least off the floor of the caves, with electricity sparkling and reflecting off the walls and roof. Finally, in a low, compact grotto nearest the core of the mountain, we spied a lone, brooding female dragon, tucked comfortably into a warm spot.
This lady was a glittering jewel-green, with pink breast and underside, attending a full nursery of at least a dozen eggs. Never knew they lay so many. They must suffer a huge loss to predators, since the dragons themselves are so rare. I remembered that my Grampa used to say they were well-regarded in Ancient Asia, steadfast creatures that wouldn’t leave the eggs until they hatched. That could take weeks, during which time they fasted, and dedicated themselves only to brooding. This girl was serenely lying with her head resting on her front claws, looking for all the world like a elongated, hairless green cat, ready for a long nap with her future babies. I fell in love at with that vision of maternal patience, waiting for the hatching. I whispered to Sheol.
“Remember, we are not here to kill dragons. I don’t kill dragons. Please don’t, while you’re with me, unless it’s necessary to save your comrades. If you see me Glow, signal to me, so I can touch you first. Don't grab my arm or shoulder.” Wouldn’t want to be responsible for the death of a soldier. My buddy nodded, and murmured an uncommitted “uh-huh,” clearly not convinced. Then she looked around behind me, her eyes suddenly widening.
Catastrophe
“Wow! What’s that? I’ve never seen one here. Its color’s completely different.” Sheol pointed with the scythe toward an opening from another chamber, one we’d not yet inspected. Inside the creature was similar to the Mommy, only a deep, glossy indigo, quite a bit larger and definitely tougher-looking. He was moving slowly toward the brooding female.
“That’s a Blue Dragon, I think. It has no business here, so far south. Looking for a mate, maybe?” The answer was immediate. Our local lady was in no mood for love, and viciously attacked the other, even as he lowered his snaky neck to her. Stunned and thrown backwards, the Blue recovered in short order, returning with a Great Gale attack that blew all around the cave. We were also tossed in the wind, and the Glow ignited. We tried to hide among the eggs, but it soon looked like a bad idea and we pushed away, sidling with our backs against the walls.
The two writhed, biting and clawing, glittering and sparking, brightly colored monsters battling in a swirling sea of ice, wind and fire. The nursery was soon devastated by the weight of the behemoth lizards, as they crashed around, each determined to eliminate the other. The sounds of hissing and screeching were deafening, and shock waves added to the chaos.
“There go my hopes of stealing an egg.” I muttered this comment, sotto voce, to Sheol. It didn’t matter if she heard me or not, because I hadn’t told her of my plans to raise the little monsters. She was touching my arm, fully protected by the Glow, holding her breath, impressed by the fight.
The Blue Dragon was obviously superior in size and might, but the spectacle was quickly over, with our local lady as the victor. The vanquished male dropped heavily to the floor of the cave and rolled away. He decided to follow Cupid elsewhere, ultimately raising himself on visibly wounded wings, bellowing all the while. No surprise there: the female was defending her eggs. Like any good warrior-mother, she’d simply not reacted to any injury inflicted by the other during battle. It was the blue guy that had me wondering: exactly why was it here, so far from Gaia’s Cliffs? Had we upset the ecosystem, while searching for a way to the North Crater? I had always felt that nothing good would come from eliminating so many dragons while we were on the road. Bad karma will out, and I hoped we hadn’t accrued enough to push them into extinction.
Sheol had returned to attention, so I pulled her away to the edge of the grotto, ultimately hiding us behind a stalagmite. I hoped the Glow wouldn’t give us away.
Needn’t have wondered. The lindworm was mortally wounded, and slipping away fast, even as she dragged herself over to her nest. She wrapped herself around the clutch of broken eggs and seemed to expire, breathing a long plume of smoke. I felt incredibly sad for her. The eggshells were mostly scattered shards, the baby dragons, not fully formed, making only a few feeble motions before dying themselves. None that I could see were in any shape to be rescued, still way too young by days, or maybe even weeks. What would we do, anyway? Could they be incubated with lamps, like chocobos? I touched the huge, iridescent green head, caressing its sparkling scales gently, tentatively imparting the tiniest flow of curing.
“Sorry, Lady. Looks like it was all in vain. But you gave the best you could, Hon.” Then I nearly soiled myself when she opened a big cat’s-eye to look at me and began to shudder.
“Still there, Little One? Let’s see what we can do.” I reached over to her, directing all my energy to trying to heal however I could. After all, right now she was my best hope of being a dragon rider. I wasn’t sure I could cure the huge reptile, or any animal besides Man. Never tried before. I let out as much healing and curing as I could without harming myself. The shuddering stopped and the poor thing sighed again, still looking at me.
Then, moaning with the effort, she rolled over onto her back. She was giving me her belly. I took a deep breath and tried again. There was no doubt she was more comfortable, but now I could see all her worst injuries, naturally, there on her unprotected underside. It took about an hour, and nearly all my strength and every item I had at hand, but one by one, each burn, gash and laceration healed, and the injured lizard finally went to sleep. It might still be her last night on the Planet. I wished I could weep for her, my heart was so wounded by her brave last stand against an outsider, and touched by the way she trusted me to help.
“Look, Fini. Here is one more egg, left unbroken.” Sheol was caressing an intact survivor, picking off pieces of other, broken shells. We rolled the case over to its Mommy, tucking it against her side. Then we checked around the nursery, but there were no others. Already the cave’s vermin were dragging away the massacred dragon chicks. For once, their nasty occupation seemed to me a good thing: the wounded warrior wouldn’t have to look at her dead babies.
“We can check back in the morning. She’ll probably have died by then, and we can remove it safely. With any luck, Eleanora will have an incubation chamber large enough. Hell, maybe we can rig something.” I swallowed a few times, feeling a little silly, with the young soldier trying to avert her eyes.
Another respectful nod. I was beginning to get used to everyone thinking I was mad.
Maybe everybody was right.
Slept Out and Reeled In
Comfort, Food
Saddened by the whole affair, I sought Vincent in the main lodge for comfort, and found him in the downstairs commons. We went up to our room for privacy. He listened without comment to my narrative of the visit to Mt. Nibel, and then held me in his arms until I fell asleep. When I woke, it was close to sunset, so I lay awake on the bed, waiting for the call to dinner. I wondered what the rest of the soldiers must have thought of someone who was only good for a few hours of fighting and healing, and then shut down entirely afterwards. It really limited my usefulness, especially for guiding the younger militia, who were able to battle until they were visibly disabled.
After about a half-hour, Vincent arrived to fetch me. He, too, was still in uniform, minus his armor; looking endearingly similar to the fellow I first met on that sparkling morning months ago.
"Feeling better?"
"I feel well enough, thank you. But tomorrow there will still be a chick to tame, with or without its mother. I hope she survived; I have little experience with reptiles, none whatsoever with dragons. The baby could suffer some really untoward consequences; I hadn't anticipated hand raising one so soon. There should be some observation first, else how will I know what sort of care it needs to grow and thrive? Probably shouldn't even start without its Mommy."
"Then don't. Leave the egg in the grotto. The cave arthropods will make good use of it, and there will surely be more opportunities to come." He spoke simply and logically, but I wasn't ready for logic. The beautiful vision of the patient mother waiting for the hatching haunted me, while the ugly sight of the scavengers just doing their job still upset me, even though I understood it was for the best.
"I know that, but still, I want to save this chick. I can't explain myself; the whole memory makes me feel like crying, of all things! I just don't get it." Even as I spoke, I could feel my eyes tearing. Vincent smiled indulgently and reached for my hands, to lift me off the bed.
"Come, Josephine. You may simply need to eat and to rest some more. We can discuss it again in the morning. Tonight we should party just by ourselves. The common rooms are largely empty in the evening, so we can listen to music and talk alone. Would you like that?"
Vincent's unexpected thoughtfulness floored me, and I didn't know what to say. I just nodded and let him help me off the bed. We entered the dining hall together for the first time since we arrived. There was no organized dinner, just the usual evening's mess. Each soldier was eating at his or her own pace, and the servers were clearly marked with kitchen caps. Or maybe they were just bussing, since the diners were carrying their dinners on trays. All still highly organized, yet not as formal.
It was a notable change from our reception, days earlier. I wondered when we would be expected to contribute our time and energy to the preparation and serving. Or the housekeeping or any other of the hundreds of tasks that kept the base running smoothly. Was I ducking responsibility by pursuing my own agenda, while Vincent was actually putting in workdays during our time apart? He never asked me to accompany him, and, come to think, it did not occur to me to invite him, either.
Vincent called a server and whispered to her. She beamed and ran outside. Before we had finished our meal, the young soldier returned and ducked into the kitchen. When she emerged, she presented us with a bottle of Fruitland’s Victory and two snifter-style goblets. Vincent tried to pay for them, but she shook her head, smiling.
“The Wine Master sends you his compliments. Enjoy.” She bowed slightly and returned to the kitchen.
“Wonder how long the royal treatment will last?” I elbowed Vincent. He turned to me, exasperated, then suddenly smiled.
“It would perhaps be better to simply enjoy it while we may.” He stood and made a deep, graceful bow, just as he had that first encounter. I rose and gave him my hand. Then we both walked down the grand entryway to a cozy, secluded common room.
The Interloper Identified
Vincent led me to a settee, and I sat on one end, facing the great hearth. A small fire was crackling and would provide some cover for an intimate conversation.
This time it did not surprise me that my date poured only a very short brandy for me, then a much larger one for himself. He handed me the drink and held his own up as a salute. I raised mine to him and sipped gingerly. As it warmed on its way down, I was tentatively planning what to say.
Vincent sat touching me, with his arm over the back of the settee. He seemed to be waiting, so I spoke.
“Can we talk about last night?” He nodded slightly, and then drank his brandy in one draught. He poured himself another and indicated that he would refill mine. I shook my head.
“Who was it?”
“Chaos caught me off guard. It was very unexpected and I couldn’t prevent him. Usually an injury will trigger his appearance in battle, and I can decide whether or not to let him fight.” He looked both wryly amused, and sad and guilty. I touched his face gently and tried to smile, all the while mentally composing my thoughts. Then I continued.
“Vincent, at one point, early on, I was drawn into your eyes. At least I thought they were yours. When I shut mine, I was able to regain enough of myself to feel that he was draining me, and I couldn’t stop him. It wasn’t life, or blood, or even breath, but I felt I had to fight it. It frightened me to the very core.”
“I know Josephine; I never left you. I felt your panic. Your struggle was obvious, perhaps even to him, but may have been unnecessary. Chaos would never harm you. He is not your enemy. I feel it’s quite the opposite. He may be drawn to you.”
“By what? What is he taking from me? I was fine when I awoke, so he didn’t harm me. Still, it felt like he was stealing something.”
“Magic energy. He was taking your magic power. It may be he felt irresistibly attracted by it. And, because you were already spent by your battles in the Shinra basement, there was little he could glean. Shortly after you fell into your deep sleep, he left us. It won’t happen again. You have my word on that.” Wow. Even as Vincent said this, I could feel the relief flooding my whole being, like cool water rising into a desert plant. My subdued, defensive mood broke, and I began to bounce gleefully up and down, jostling him repeatedly. He took my arms and steadied me, looking uncharacteristically perplexed at my sudden change. And he talks about me being dense!
“Mako energy! Of course! What a relief! As far as I’m concerned it’s like a renewable resource; I would give some gladly if he would only take it in battle. What a stupid jerk, to sneak in like some sort of voyeur-thief while we are making love! Should have known you wouldn’t suddenly turn into a ravishing monster.” Then I felt impish.
“But it was one hell of a ride, wasn’t it?” Vincent agreed. He nodded solemnly and put his arms around mine in a gentle hug.
The disturbing mystery resolved, we quietly continued to discuss the different things encountered during our separate days. Vincent told only occurrences, never giving real details and certainly not including reactions or feelings. It didn’t matter. Because he spent time with his son and his grandchildren, there wasn’t much to tell. He simply watched the family go through their normal schedules, and tried to reconnect with Victor. I wagered that he wouldn’t stay satisfied with such domestic routine for very long.
There was no way to tell if he truly enjoyed the interchanges or simply attended out of a feeling of duty. It was the same, I imagined, as his relationship with me. It would be foolish to expect him to feel anything like sentiment or romance. He had even said earlier that the thirty years’ sleep shut down his emotions. Still, we had a peaceful talk, and were able to carry the good feeling upstairs with us for the evening. Our intimacy that night was sweet and unremarkable, except that we were decidedly alone. Our earlier discussion lent a certain light humor that I could never have imagined we would share. The intrusion the night before became simply an untoward interruption that we survived, such as a couple might suffer when in tight quarters with other family in a small home. It would be our little secret.
We slept in each other’s arms, and for once greeted the morning together.
Truce and Compromise
With the new light, there came an unexpected new topic. At least I hadn’t foreseen it. Why should Vincent object to a repeat visit to Mt. Nibel? After all, it would surely become my base of operations: the home of my dragons.
"I'm not going alone. Sheol will be there, too. She'll handle the random enemies."
"Josephine, take great care to be sure of your underlings: you will need to build up allies. This town will not take kindly to a fire-breathing dragon."
"First she will be tamed. Besides, I will never bring one into town: it would be cramped for such a large creature, same as for motor vehicles. You know, Vincent, the one that'll ultimately be my mount is the dragonet. We can raise it up to the whole battle thing: it'll be in its blood."
"And if they come looking for you?"
"Well, it's natural my stock would want to follow me, so I will teach them to return to the ranch. Any babies will be raised or trained there, so it's a possible draw for the mother." This was good; Vincent was bringing up points I would need to address.
"Not the dragons! Josephine, you're being dense again. The townspeople may decide to take the matter into their own hands."
My jaw tightened.
"Let them come. You can tell them that. And tell them this: The dragon has lived here at least a quarter century—at the very least. That's how long it takes for them to mature to breeding stock. She's never bothered them before.
"A dragon didn't burn the town—Sephiroth did. A human: mad, most certainly, but human just the same. It takes a human to wreak cataclysmic destruction in a town or on the Planet. It makes me think our time is coming to an end."
"Sephiroth was Jenova-enhanced, as are we. Josephine, I've been playing the good father and indulgent grandfather since I arrived. My family has accepted us both. Do not undo my welcome by introducing them to unnecessary danger."
"You know, Vincent, I never intended to trade on your welcome. To Hell with it all! I am not now, and never have been a Nibelheimer. Born to be a dragon lady, maybe. Raising and training them seems to be calling me. If necessary, I will take it all elsewhere." For the first time since we began the discussion, he looked contrite.
"You probably can't ‘take it elsewhere’ right now. Stay here and progress slowly. Besides you are neglecting your health. You haven't slept a full night since you arrived."
I couldn't resist. "Yes I did. The best rest of all is to be had in Cosmo Canyon." Nibelheim wasn't the only place on the Planet. Dragons exist all over, each area selecting out a specific form. An older dragon would want to remain at Mt. Nibel, but my hand-raised chicks would likely follow me anywhere.
Vincent stopped and studied my face a while. Then he seemed to change his mind.
"I won't stop you from pursuing what may be your destiny. Will you do me one favor? Go to see Captain Johann for a complete physical. Let’s make it the works. When you get your clean bill of health, you can do what you like and I will support you."
"In anything? I don't need your permission, you know."
"You will have my complete support—not just my permission—in anything. You have my word." He looked so serious, so earnest; it made me think he was up to something. I answered very slowly.
"Your word? Good enough, I guess. When would I be able to see him? Let's get this over with. I'm sick of all the sandbagging." Vincent took out his PHS and punched a code.
"Eleanora. Can we get in soon? Excellent. We are on our way." He smugly snapped the thing shut and stowed it in his uniform.
"What the hell? This was a setup?" I could feel my face redden as I hissed the question.
"No, but it will work well. I will admit that we’ve discussed it during my dayside visits. But, as you said yourself: let's get this over with."
Without a word, I turned and headed to the bathroom, stripping my shirt as I went.
"No shower, Josephine; don't even relieve yourself. Eleanora said you will be asked to produce a sample. Remember, a complete physical. Your fullest cooperation will be needed."
"Who made you boss? Oh, right, I forgot. Walt and Hildy made you a colonel, or general or something, right out of the blue. Nice touch for the returning hero." I deliberately taunted him, angry at having been so easily duped. To his credit, he never moved a muscle, never changed his demeanor, not even a raised eyebrow.
"Commander, Josephine. Something new, actually, so I admit it’s a recently invented title. After all, the militia is still relatively young. Not quite a general, although we earned a high rank in battle, most especially at the North Crater. It’s yours, but only if you seek and accept it." So that was it. Finally the pieces fell into place. Never did quite figure it out on my own: all the cooperation, the almost worshipful assistants, not to mention the diffidence encountered in the lodge and elsewhere around the base.
"We outrank everybody?" Rather impressive for the lowly research assistant.
"Not Walter and Hildegarde Randolph: they govern the militia, the commanders, only without title. Now they rather reluctantly call themselves generals to allow us to belong and instruct, without seeming to take over. So far, it appears to have met with tacit approval by the rank and file.
“When we first arrived, hot and damaged, the word was just getting out from Midgar—through Reeve, presumably—that the Lifestream was released by Sephiroth's defeat. Since we were visibly fighting him from the beginning, there were designated watchers who traced our steps and interviewed witnesses along the way.
“It's been all over the Planet through the Network since the fall of Shinra. And that's being associated with the attack by Diamond Weapon, by the way, not us. The watchers remained at ready, should they have to assemble an army to fill our empty places, perhaps, and to finish the job."
The man had evidently been very busily collecting intelligence. It would be interesting to quiz him regarding his plans for the Valentine family and friends. So far, he’d been much more fortunate than I was, all those weeks ago on the Shore north of Midgar, when my Dad disowned me. Vincent’s family seemed happy to see him alive again.
Then again, no matter how dire or tragic the circumstances, Vincent always seemed able to land on his feet.
The resurrected dead are not always so fortunate.
Saddened by the whole affair, I sought Vincent in the main lodge for comfort, and found him in the downstairs commons. We went up to our room for privacy. He listened without comment to my narrative of the visit to Mt. Nibel, and then held me in his arms until I fell asleep. When I woke, it was close to sunset, so I lay awake on the bed, waiting for the call to dinner. I wondered what the rest of the soldiers must have thought of someone who was only good for a few hours of fighting and healing, and then shut down entirely afterwards. It really limited my usefulness, especially for guiding the younger militia, who were able to battle until they were visibly disabled.
After about a half-hour, Vincent arrived to fetch me. He, too, was still in uniform, minus his armor; looking endearingly similar to the fellow I first met on that sparkling morning months ago.
"Feeling better?"
"I feel well enough, thank you. But tomorrow there will still be a chick to tame, with or without its mother. I hope she survived; I have little experience with reptiles, none whatsoever with dragons. The baby could suffer some really untoward consequences; I hadn't anticipated hand raising one so soon. There should be some observation first, else how will I know what sort of care it needs to grow and thrive? Probably shouldn't even start without its Mommy."
"Then don't. Leave the egg in the grotto. The cave arthropods will make good use of it, and there will surely be more opportunities to come." He spoke simply and logically, but I wasn't ready for logic. The beautiful vision of the patient mother waiting for the hatching haunted me, while the ugly sight of the scavengers just doing their job still upset me, even though I understood it was for the best.
"I know that, but still, I want to save this chick. I can't explain myself; the whole memory makes me feel like crying, of all things! I just don't get it." Even as I spoke, I could feel my eyes tearing. Vincent smiled indulgently and reached for my hands, to lift me off the bed.
"Come, Josephine. You may simply need to eat and to rest some more. We can discuss it again in the morning. Tonight we should party just by ourselves. The common rooms are largely empty in the evening, so we can listen to music and talk alone. Would you like that?"
Vincent's unexpected thoughtfulness floored me, and I didn't know what to say. I just nodded and let him help me off the bed. We entered the dining hall together for the first time since we arrived. There was no organized dinner, just the usual evening's mess. Each soldier was eating at his or her own pace, and the servers were clearly marked with kitchen caps. Or maybe they were just bussing, since the diners were carrying their dinners on trays. All still highly organized, yet not as formal.
It was a notable change from our reception, days earlier. I wondered when we would be expected to contribute our time and energy to the preparation and serving. Or the housekeeping or any other of the hundreds of tasks that kept the base running smoothly. Was I ducking responsibility by pursuing my own agenda, while Vincent was actually putting in workdays during our time apart? He never asked me to accompany him, and, come to think, it did not occur to me to invite him, either.
Vincent called a server and whispered to her. She beamed and ran outside. Before we had finished our meal, the young soldier returned and ducked into the kitchen. When she emerged, she presented us with a bottle of Fruitland’s Victory and two snifter-style goblets. Vincent tried to pay for them, but she shook her head, smiling.
“The Wine Master sends you his compliments. Enjoy.” She bowed slightly and returned to the kitchen.
“Wonder how long the royal treatment will last?” I elbowed Vincent. He turned to me, exasperated, then suddenly smiled.
“It would perhaps be better to simply enjoy it while we may.” He stood and made a deep, graceful bow, just as he had that first encounter. I rose and gave him my hand. Then we both walked down the grand entryway to a cozy, secluded common room.
The Interloper Identified
Vincent led me to a settee, and I sat on one end, facing the great hearth. A small fire was crackling and would provide some cover for an intimate conversation.
This time it did not surprise me that my date poured only a very short brandy for me, then a much larger one for himself. He handed me the drink and held his own up as a salute. I raised mine to him and sipped gingerly. As it warmed on its way down, I was tentatively planning what to say.
Vincent sat touching me, with his arm over the back of the settee. He seemed to be waiting, so I spoke.
“Can we talk about last night?” He nodded slightly, and then drank his brandy in one draught. He poured himself another and indicated that he would refill mine. I shook my head.
“Who was it?”
“Chaos caught me off guard. It was very unexpected and I couldn’t prevent him. Usually an injury will trigger his appearance in battle, and I can decide whether or not to let him fight.” He looked both wryly amused, and sad and guilty. I touched his face gently and tried to smile, all the while mentally composing my thoughts. Then I continued.
“Vincent, at one point, early on, I was drawn into your eyes. At least I thought they were yours. When I shut mine, I was able to regain enough of myself to feel that he was draining me, and I couldn’t stop him. It wasn’t life, or blood, or even breath, but I felt I had to fight it. It frightened me to the very core.”
“I know Josephine; I never left you. I felt your panic. Your struggle was obvious, perhaps even to him, but may have been unnecessary. Chaos would never harm you. He is not your enemy. I feel it’s quite the opposite. He may be drawn to you.”
“By what? What is he taking from me? I was fine when I awoke, so he didn’t harm me. Still, it felt like he was stealing something.”
“Magic energy. He was taking your magic power. It may be he felt irresistibly attracted by it. And, because you were already spent by your battles in the Shinra basement, there was little he could glean. Shortly after you fell into your deep sleep, he left us. It won’t happen again. You have my word on that.” Wow. Even as Vincent said this, I could feel the relief flooding my whole being, like cool water rising into a desert plant. My subdued, defensive mood broke, and I began to bounce gleefully up and down, jostling him repeatedly. He took my arms and steadied me, looking uncharacteristically perplexed at my sudden change. And he talks about me being dense!
“Mako energy! Of course! What a relief! As far as I’m concerned it’s like a renewable resource; I would give some gladly if he would only take it in battle. What a stupid jerk, to sneak in like some sort of voyeur-thief while we are making love! Should have known you wouldn’t suddenly turn into a ravishing monster.” Then I felt impish.
“But it was one hell of a ride, wasn’t it?” Vincent agreed. He nodded solemnly and put his arms around mine in a gentle hug.
The disturbing mystery resolved, we quietly continued to discuss the different things encountered during our separate days. Vincent told only occurrences, never giving real details and certainly not including reactions or feelings. It didn’t matter. Because he spent time with his son and his grandchildren, there wasn’t much to tell. He simply watched the family go through their normal schedules, and tried to reconnect with Victor. I wagered that he wouldn’t stay satisfied with such domestic routine for very long.
There was no way to tell if he truly enjoyed the interchanges or simply attended out of a feeling of duty. It was the same, I imagined, as his relationship with me. It would be foolish to expect him to feel anything like sentiment or romance. He had even said earlier that the thirty years’ sleep shut down his emotions. Still, we had a peaceful talk, and were able to carry the good feeling upstairs with us for the evening. Our intimacy that night was sweet and unremarkable, except that we were decidedly alone. Our earlier discussion lent a certain light humor that I could never have imagined we would share. The intrusion the night before became simply an untoward interruption that we survived, such as a couple might suffer when in tight quarters with other family in a small home. It would be our little secret.
We slept in each other’s arms, and for once greeted the morning together.
Truce and Compromise
With the new light, there came an unexpected new topic. At least I hadn’t foreseen it. Why should Vincent object to a repeat visit to Mt. Nibel? After all, it would surely become my base of operations: the home of my dragons.
"I'm not going alone. Sheol will be there, too. She'll handle the random enemies."
"Josephine, take great care to be sure of your underlings: you will need to build up allies. This town will not take kindly to a fire-breathing dragon."
"First she will be tamed. Besides, I will never bring one into town: it would be cramped for such a large creature, same as for motor vehicles. You know, Vincent, the one that'll ultimately be my mount is the dragonet. We can raise it up to the whole battle thing: it'll be in its blood."
"And if they come looking for you?"
"Well, it's natural my stock would want to follow me, so I will teach them to return to the ranch. Any babies will be raised or trained there, so it's a possible draw for the mother." This was good; Vincent was bringing up points I would need to address.
"Not the dragons! Josephine, you're being dense again. The townspeople may decide to take the matter into their own hands."
My jaw tightened.
"Let them come. You can tell them that. And tell them this: The dragon has lived here at least a quarter century—at the very least. That's how long it takes for them to mature to breeding stock. She's never bothered them before.
"A dragon didn't burn the town—Sephiroth did. A human: mad, most certainly, but human just the same. It takes a human to wreak cataclysmic destruction in a town or on the Planet. It makes me think our time is coming to an end."
"Sephiroth was Jenova-enhanced, as are we. Josephine, I've been playing the good father and indulgent grandfather since I arrived. My family has accepted us both. Do not undo my welcome by introducing them to unnecessary danger."
"You know, Vincent, I never intended to trade on your welcome. To Hell with it all! I am not now, and never have been a Nibelheimer. Born to be a dragon lady, maybe. Raising and training them seems to be calling me. If necessary, I will take it all elsewhere." For the first time since we began the discussion, he looked contrite.
"You probably can't ‘take it elsewhere’ right now. Stay here and progress slowly. Besides you are neglecting your health. You haven't slept a full night since you arrived."
I couldn't resist. "Yes I did. The best rest of all is to be had in Cosmo Canyon." Nibelheim wasn't the only place on the Planet. Dragons exist all over, each area selecting out a specific form. An older dragon would want to remain at Mt. Nibel, but my hand-raised chicks would likely follow me anywhere.
Vincent stopped and studied my face a while. Then he seemed to change his mind.
"I won't stop you from pursuing what may be your destiny. Will you do me one favor? Go to see Captain Johann for a complete physical. Let’s make it the works. When you get your clean bill of health, you can do what you like and I will support you."
"In anything? I don't need your permission, you know."
"You will have my complete support—not just my permission—in anything. You have my word." He looked so serious, so earnest; it made me think he was up to something. I answered very slowly.
"Your word? Good enough, I guess. When would I be able to see him? Let's get this over with. I'm sick of all the sandbagging." Vincent took out his PHS and punched a code.
"Eleanora. Can we get in soon? Excellent. We are on our way." He smugly snapped the thing shut and stowed it in his uniform.
"What the hell? This was a setup?" I could feel my face redden as I hissed the question.
"No, but it will work well. I will admit that we’ve discussed it during my dayside visits. But, as you said yourself: let's get this over with."
Without a word, I turned and headed to the bathroom, stripping my shirt as I went.
"No shower, Josephine; don't even relieve yourself. Eleanora said you will be asked to produce a sample. Remember, a complete physical. Your fullest cooperation will be needed."
"Who made you boss? Oh, right, I forgot. Walt and Hildy made you a colonel, or general or something, right out of the blue. Nice touch for the returning hero." I deliberately taunted him, angry at having been so easily duped. To his credit, he never moved a muscle, never changed his demeanor, not even a raised eyebrow.
"Commander, Josephine. Something new, actually, so I admit it’s a recently invented title. After all, the militia is still relatively young. Not quite a general, although we earned a high rank in battle, most especially at the North Crater. It’s yours, but only if you seek and accept it." So that was it. Finally the pieces fell into place. Never did quite figure it out on my own: all the cooperation, the almost worshipful assistants, not to mention the diffidence encountered in the lodge and elsewhere around the base.
"We outrank everybody?" Rather impressive for the lowly research assistant.
"Not Walter and Hildegarde Randolph: they govern the militia, the commanders, only without title. Now they rather reluctantly call themselves generals to allow us to belong and instruct, without seeming to take over. So far, it appears to have met with tacit approval by the rank and file.
“When we first arrived, hot and damaged, the word was just getting out from Midgar—through Reeve, presumably—that the Lifestream was released by Sephiroth's defeat. Since we were visibly fighting him from the beginning, there were designated watchers who traced our steps and interviewed witnesses along the way.
“It's been all over the Planet through the Network since the fall of Shinra. And that's being associated with the attack by Diamond Weapon, by the way, not us. The watchers remained at ready, should they have to assemble an army to fill our empty places, perhaps, and to finish the job."
The man had evidently been very busily collecting intelligence. It would be interesting to quiz him regarding his plans for the Valentine family and friends. So far, he’d been much more fortunate than I was, all those weeks ago on the Shore north of Midgar, when my Dad disowned me. Vincent’s family seemed happy to see him alive again.
Then again, no matter how dire or tragic the circumstances, Vincent always seemed able to land on his feet.
The resurrected dead are not always so fortunate.
Revelation and Overtures
Clinical Verification and Counseling
I was willing to present myself to Dr. Johann to appease Vincent, so I pulled my shirt back over my head, combed my hair, and trotted to the clinic across the way, housed in the same building as the crèche. Vincent hurried up from behind me, arriving in time to hold the door. He was going to be hard to shake.
Eleanora Randolph was there, acting as medical assistant to the doctor, although I didn't get her rank or official capacity. At this point the vague insignia patches were still a mystery to me. At first I was pleased to see her. She took Vincent by the elbow and led him to a seat outside the examination room. Otherwise I am sure he would have remained during the entire visit.
She then handed me a specimen cup, and pointed to the restroom.
"What's this for?" I asked.
"We need a specimen, a urine sample." She looked at me as if she couldn't believe I would ask.
"I know that. Why are we testing?" Already I was becoming irked by the inconvenience of it. Dammit, I wanted to tame dragons, not satisfy the man's silly notion of health and well-being. What would Vincent know about female health issues, anyway?
"Pregnancy..." Nora said it as if I were stupid.
"Pfft. Go ahead, if you want. Can't get pregnant; I was fixed decades ago. What they used to call a separation." She silently pointed toward the restroom and I complied. When I returned, she stopped me, hand on my chest and spoke in a low, angry whisper.
"Are you going to fight us every inch of the way? Honestly, Fini, just indulge Vincent in this. You may learn something." Her tone stung me, and my cheeks burned. She was deliberately baiting me, and I wasn’t going to allow her—no, the three of them—their little conspiracy. After all those weeks on the road, being an outsider was nothing new to me.
"What the—? What's with the superior attitude? I don't want to be here. I don't need to be here. I heal myself. Never felt better in my life. Literally." I tried to keep my voice calm. Then Nora ran the sample through the test. She stared silently at me, holding up the readout, without even looking at it.
I read the results, looked at Eleanora, and then back at the readout. I ran into the restroom and retched, to no avail, as per usual. Hadn’t been able to eat breakfast since… well, since the fancy reception, the night of our arrival. Since we first shared the room in the main lodge. And now Vincent was insisting on a physical, complete with pregnancy test, all prearranged with Eleanora and Matthew Johann. When I rejoined her in the examination room, she handed me a small vial of remedy, which I gladly accepted and tossed back in one gulp.
"Now, this is just insane." Then it all clicked and I shut up. Of course it was possible. And now I knew exactly what was contained in the as-yet unviewed portion of Hojo's file. Any reconstructive surgery would surely and easily heal, better than before, in my newly enhanced body.
The lunatic was expecting me to willingly cooperate in my own undoing, just as Lucrecia had. Hojo wanted me to accept him as a lover! As if the monster could love anyone besides his own genius self! The shame of being “caught pregnant” was immediately replaced by almost overwhelming relief that I had not been able to stand his casual touch, much less any romantic advances.
"We are done here. You have what Vincent wanted all along, although I can't for the life of me understand why." I marched over to the doctor’s office, rapped on the door and entered without waiting for permission. He was expecting me, not at all bothered by my pique. While I intended to be stoic about the whole mess, I knew I was visibly agitated and still felt somewhat sick to my stomach. Stoic would have to come later.
Dr. Matthew Johann was a tall, substantial-looking local gentleman, constantly smiling, making little jokes, trying to put me at ease. As if this pregnancy could be made easier! We discussed all the tests that would be required, and handled everything as quickly as possible. We both agreed that there was little doubt I was as healthy as a chocobo in racing form. This was merely a formality to please the father of the unborn child.
And everyone would certainly know who was the father, even before DNA matching. Our bunking together left little doubt. Worse yet, Nora was everywhere underfoot, assisting the doctor with all the tests. The two worked together the way office mates do, after many years, or even decades of proximity. All strictly professional, no flirting or humor included, at least not during the working process.
So, even after these past few days, I was no closer to knowing what her current status was with Vincent, or anybody else, for that matter. He treated her exactly as he did his other old friends. If they were ever lovers, it certainly didn’t show in their manner. Good friends, just as he said. And I knew instinctively that we would also become closer as time progressed. Eleanora was just like that: somewhat breezy, accustomed to speaking her mind and getting attention. Very self-assertive.
"The brandy get the best of you? And what’s Vincent's excuse?" She was smirking and shaking her head.
Again. I could feel myself flush with anger. This kid is way too old to be defending her personal life. And now who would believe that I was supposed to be sterile, and had been for nearly two decades? As usual, my ire made me sputter almost incoherently.
"It wasn't like that: it wasn’t the dinner and the wine. We were comrades on the road, finally in a place of relative safety. He's can be very loyal, a good friend when the situation demands. He's been protecting me, is all. It's not like it was with you back then."
"Way, way 'back then!' Fini, you don't get it. You and I are not rivals. I can't possibly return to Vincent. We're just friends who have a son together."
"Then we do have a lot in common, just as he said." Immediately, I regretted the sarcasm.
Eleanora seemed amazed. "Liar. Or maybe you joke, right? Fini, surely you don't deny that you're attracted to him?" She sounded disappointed in me, but I had a ready answer.
"Oh, Lord, no! There’s no one like Vincent anywhere. He has to be the handsomest man on the Planet. But, Nora, the age difference is a turn-off." She smiled ruefully. "Moreover, he's a loner, and a drifter. And, to tell the truth, he's not exactly the most attentive companion, most of the time."
"That is true enough. Vincent has a habit of simply disappearing at very bad times. You know, one might say the same about you, Fini. The difference is that he seems incapable of understanding the needs of another person."
"You really mean the needs of a woman." Well, then what was it between those two? How did they wind up having a kid? Did Vincent seduce every woman who dared to come close? And why was everything always such a mess with him? So I was fishing for some details, and hoped they were forthcoming.
But Nora was looking away, towards the window, and gesturing with one hand. "Well, we certainly cannot expect Vincent to even try. He's too wrapped up in his own concerns. Concerns, by the way, that he still prefers to keep to himself. Always has."
I found myself nodding in agreement at her back. "Yes. And that is where all the troubles start. He doesn't share his plans, or communicate his feelings—if indeed he has any—about anything. Not that I'm any great shakes at it, myself." It was such a relief to speak with someone who understood that Vincent was a bundle of mystery and contradiction. I had started to believe I was simply being unreasonable. Evidently not.
She turned back to me, suddenly solicitous. I felt my guard go up. This was the second time my radar picked up something from her that I couldn’t quite define.
"You do just fine, Fini. My girls adore you, and hang on your every word, smile, frown, approval or disdain. You're much more their hero than Vincent." At this point, Eleanora was touching my arm, and watching my reaction. I pushed her back and studied her face. Why so intimate? And what was she implying about those girls and me? More dependent kids to worry about after all these years? Right then, I knew I was not up to it anymore. It was my turn to look outside into the sunlight, desperately searching for an excuse to avoid more responsibility.
"How can I be a hero? Now, like this?" She came up right behind me.
"Maybe even more so. An unexpected pregnancy is not the end of the world. Been there myself..."
I exploded and turned on her. "Don't patronize me! This is not the same situation at all. There are already four children around Midgar who I can't even claim, let alone nurture. All of them born of my body. My daughters own a part my soul—and two decades of my life. Furthermore, Vincent seems to have been anticipating this. The baby belongs to him, not me. To Nibelheim. I can't give it a home or a mother. Who needs more kids at my age? I should be waiting for grandchildren, not pregnant myself.
"Besides, Lord only knows what sort of monster we've engendered. Both parents are Jenova mutations and possibly something worse. Vincent's not talking, and doesn't even know yet what his capabilities are. Well, neither do I. We are new to our changes and should not be reproducing!" My ranting didn’t even make a dent; Eleanora was smiling and nodding, looking strangely relieved.
"Fini, is that what it is? I knew it. You are fretting about the baby, aren't you? What's done is done. Don’t start worrying. Get some working facts. Matt—Dr. Johann—will expect Vincent to be fully tested, too. He's probably already checking into whatever files he can acquire from the Shinra doctors. What were their names?"
"Andrea and Paula. I never did learn their last name, but it wouldn't surprise me if it turned out to be Tuesti. Oh, no!" Now they would know I was pregnant, as would Reeve. Everyone would be in on the dirty little secret. Never had to face such a public pregnancy before. When I was expecting the girls, I clammed up about it until the visible evidence was overwhelming. Didn’t even make any sort of announcement, except to my husband, celebrating his Father’s Day after I knew for certain.
Geez, this time there was no place to run. Not even anywhere I could hide, now, not without taking great pains to protect the unborn child. Or monster, or whatever. Trapped again. Just like the laboratory specimen I was before. What a ridiculous predicament for a woman my age! With no one to blame but myself.
No fool like an old fool, as they say. Unless it's an old fool in a brand-new body.
Morning in the Mountain
Eleanora led me out of the room into the waiting area. When she had left and shut the door, I walked over to Vincent, still fuming.
"You knew I could become pregnant. And you knew I didn't know." I muttered the words at him, full of resentment for the man who had just then irrevocably interfered with my life. He stood when I entered, and just looked at me, saying nothing.
“It’s your turn in there.” Then I walked out the door, thinking. Sheol must be wondering if I’d forgotten her. Better hurry.
I had things to do, and a pregnancy did not figure in those plans. Not yet.
Except for weapons, everything we needed for the caves was kept at the ranch. I collected a huge stockpile of restorative items at the shop in the town. Then I got an idea and stopped to ask the innkeeper to pack a few packages of cold sea crustaceans and fresh greens. Afterwards I visited the quartermaster. He fitted me with a lightweight mithril-mail vest. Rather than waste any time in discussion, I collected everything allowed, signed for them, and left for the Chocobo Ranch, walking as quickly as I could.
My assistant met me at the gate, under the sign, Nora’s Pride, then we walked in silence. Sheol had been waiting a good hour, and seemed a little miffed. Still, she said nothing, and simply gathered up half of the kit and turned to the mountains. I followed her lead, feeling guilty and trying to sort my thoughts.
When we arrived at the back of the reactor, she turned to me, ready to talk.
"Do you think we'll find it alive?" It? I nearly teared up: she was already Esmerelda to me. Swallowing hard, I was determined to be the voice of reason, regardless of my plans and preparations.
"Not likely, but anything's possible. Hell of a lot of healing yesterday. Problem is, she was already weakened by fasting. And who knows how long that went on? We shouldn't have very high hopes."
"But it was so sad. All those baby dragons! Just one intact egg, and so many insects and small animals foraging among the carcasses."
"You know, Sheol, dragons usually eat those critters. Maybe our emerald lady will have made good use of them. She surely would not allow them to kill her last unhatched chick."
"You think?" My companion looked dubious, and I didn't have any comfort for her.
“We’ll find out soon enough.”
The caves were becoming familiar to me again. We were able to move directly to the nursery, all the while talking loud enough to be heard, so we wouldn’t alarm the mother with a sudden appearance. The broken shells were gone, but the dragon lay inert, not reacting to our approach. My heart fell, and I walked slowly over to the intact egg, still partly tucked under the brood-spot of the fallen warrior.
“See? It should be fine, even though she—” Sheol gasped and I stopped. The huge reptilian eyes were slowly opening! And again I almost lost it. The size of the creature still took my attention away from everything else in and around me. Guess I remembered when such a sight would have ignited the Glow and had me reaching for my bow and quiver. Now I just smiled and sighed with relief.
“It’s still alive!” Sheol yelped, inching backward to the main cave.
“She’s alive! Aren’t you, Esmerelda?” I patted the top of her head, stroking slowly to see if healing would impart to her. Nothing happened, and she just looked at me, serene and trusting, and obviously well. Was she glad to see us?
"How are you feeling, girl? All better?" I began to speak as if she were already a comrade, or more accurately, my beloved charge. Sheol came closer and began to gently stroke her, too. The dragon allowed us to fuss over her, like an attention-starved housepet. We paid no attention to the egg, and spoke to one another as if our new friend understood our words.
“Make sure she can feel your touch through the tougher plates, or stroke her on her less armored spots. You know how a chocobo needs a brisker, heavier slap where the feathers are thickest? The scales are like that.” My Grampa’s words came back to me in almost everything we were doing in here. It was as if he were there with us.
“Can she feel anything at all?” Sheol began to audibly pat the glittering lizard.
“Absolutely. She can feel pressure, the way you do when something strikes your armor, or touches, maybe, a boot or glove that you are wearing. It’s important that she accepts all sorts of human handling. Otherwise she won’t let us near the chick. We may have to mount her and ride her, too, so she knows it’s not aggressive or harmful behavior.” At that, Sheol stared at the huge haunches, looking like a little kid next to a racing bird.
After a while, it was time to make a real overture: out came a bag lunch, an offering of friendship to our new “little” buddy. She hesitated, sniffed and delicately took the first handful of salad greens into her mouth. Then I gave her a fistful of crustaceans that she vacuumed away, almost ingesting my hand and arm. She was hooked, eagerly nosing me for more, her great head nearly pushing me off my feet. Then I told Sheol to feed her a bagful, again starting with greens. There couldn't be enough to sate her hunger, not after weeks of brooding, but I hoped we had enough to make her think about finding some on her own. Also, if she could soon trust us enough to let us handle the egg, it would be a real coup. A few minutes later, we were obliged to show her the empty sacks, so she could see we weren’t hiding any more food.
Mentally I began to compose a requisition to the local fishermen; we would probably need crustaceans for dragonets when we removed them from the cave. In the meantime, feeding the mother would encourage her to look forward to our visits from the very beginning. Sheol and I began to discuss the possibility of collecting the cave arthropods for her, using the scythe set low enough to stun, but not fry them. We would need to recruit more dragon trainers: all those partiers in the tavern came immediately to mind. Desiree and Sebastian had already made the first connections with them.
By the time we were ready to return to base, Esmerelda had wholeheartedly accepted us, drifting back to sleep. That felt like more than enough for one day. Later, we could initiate some minor training, to test for her understanding, both of our intent, and maybe even of our language.
After all, who knew how intelligent the old girl might be?
I was willing to present myself to Dr. Johann to appease Vincent, so I pulled my shirt back over my head, combed my hair, and trotted to the clinic across the way, housed in the same building as the crèche. Vincent hurried up from behind me, arriving in time to hold the door. He was going to be hard to shake.
Eleanora Randolph was there, acting as medical assistant to the doctor, although I didn't get her rank or official capacity. At this point the vague insignia patches were still a mystery to me. At first I was pleased to see her. She took Vincent by the elbow and led him to a seat outside the examination room. Otherwise I am sure he would have remained during the entire visit.
She then handed me a specimen cup, and pointed to the restroom.
"What's this for?" I asked.
"We need a specimen, a urine sample." She looked at me as if she couldn't believe I would ask.
"I know that. Why are we testing?" Already I was becoming irked by the inconvenience of it. Dammit, I wanted to tame dragons, not satisfy the man's silly notion of health and well-being. What would Vincent know about female health issues, anyway?
"Pregnancy..." Nora said it as if I were stupid.
"Pfft. Go ahead, if you want. Can't get pregnant; I was fixed decades ago. What they used to call a separation." She silently pointed toward the restroom and I complied. When I returned, she stopped me, hand on my chest and spoke in a low, angry whisper.
"Are you going to fight us every inch of the way? Honestly, Fini, just indulge Vincent in this. You may learn something." Her tone stung me, and my cheeks burned. She was deliberately baiting me, and I wasn’t going to allow her—no, the three of them—their little conspiracy. After all those weeks on the road, being an outsider was nothing new to me.
"What the—? What's with the superior attitude? I don't want to be here. I don't need to be here. I heal myself. Never felt better in my life. Literally." I tried to keep my voice calm. Then Nora ran the sample through the test. She stared silently at me, holding up the readout, without even looking at it.
I read the results, looked at Eleanora, and then back at the readout. I ran into the restroom and retched, to no avail, as per usual. Hadn’t been able to eat breakfast since… well, since the fancy reception, the night of our arrival. Since we first shared the room in the main lodge. And now Vincent was insisting on a physical, complete with pregnancy test, all prearranged with Eleanora and Matthew Johann. When I rejoined her in the examination room, she handed me a small vial of remedy, which I gladly accepted and tossed back in one gulp.
"Now, this is just insane." Then it all clicked and I shut up. Of course it was possible. And now I knew exactly what was contained in the as-yet unviewed portion of Hojo's file. Any reconstructive surgery would surely and easily heal, better than before, in my newly enhanced body.
The lunatic was expecting me to willingly cooperate in my own undoing, just as Lucrecia had. Hojo wanted me to accept him as a lover! As if the monster could love anyone besides his own genius self! The shame of being “caught pregnant” was immediately replaced by almost overwhelming relief that I had not been able to stand his casual touch, much less any romantic advances.
"We are done here. You have what Vincent wanted all along, although I can't for the life of me understand why." I marched over to the doctor’s office, rapped on the door and entered without waiting for permission. He was expecting me, not at all bothered by my pique. While I intended to be stoic about the whole mess, I knew I was visibly agitated and still felt somewhat sick to my stomach. Stoic would have to come later.
Dr. Matthew Johann was a tall, substantial-looking local gentleman, constantly smiling, making little jokes, trying to put me at ease. As if this pregnancy could be made easier! We discussed all the tests that would be required, and handled everything as quickly as possible. We both agreed that there was little doubt I was as healthy as a chocobo in racing form. This was merely a formality to please the father of the unborn child.
And everyone would certainly know who was the father, even before DNA matching. Our bunking together left little doubt. Worse yet, Nora was everywhere underfoot, assisting the doctor with all the tests. The two worked together the way office mates do, after many years, or even decades of proximity. All strictly professional, no flirting or humor included, at least not during the working process.
So, even after these past few days, I was no closer to knowing what her current status was with Vincent, or anybody else, for that matter. He treated her exactly as he did his other old friends. If they were ever lovers, it certainly didn’t show in their manner. Good friends, just as he said. And I knew instinctively that we would also become closer as time progressed. Eleanora was just like that: somewhat breezy, accustomed to speaking her mind and getting attention. Very self-assertive.
"The brandy get the best of you? And what’s Vincent's excuse?" She was smirking and shaking her head.
Again. I could feel myself flush with anger. This kid is way too old to be defending her personal life. And now who would believe that I was supposed to be sterile, and had been for nearly two decades? As usual, my ire made me sputter almost incoherently.
"It wasn't like that: it wasn’t the dinner and the wine. We were comrades on the road, finally in a place of relative safety. He's can be very loyal, a good friend when the situation demands. He's been protecting me, is all. It's not like it was with you back then."
"Way, way 'back then!' Fini, you don't get it. You and I are not rivals. I can't possibly return to Vincent. We're just friends who have a son together."
"Then we do have a lot in common, just as he said." Immediately, I regretted the sarcasm.
Eleanora seemed amazed. "Liar. Or maybe you joke, right? Fini, surely you don't deny that you're attracted to him?" She sounded disappointed in me, but I had a ready answer.
"Oh, Lord, no! There’s no one like Vincent anywhere. He has to be the handsomest man on the Planet. But, Nora, the age difference is a turn-off." She smiled ruefully. "Moreover, he's a loner, and a drifter. And, to tell the truth, he's not exactly the most attentive companion, most of the time."
"That is true enough. Vincent has a habit of simply disappearing at very bad times. You know, one might say the same about you, Fini. The difference is that he seems incapable of understanding the needs of another person."
"You really mean the needs of a woman." Well, then what was it between those two? How did they wind up having a kid? Did Vincent seduce every woman who dared to come close? And why was everything always such a mess with him? So I was fishing for some details, and hoped they were forthcoming.
But Nora was looking away, towards the window, and gesturing with one hand. "Well, we certainly cannot expect Vincent to even try. He's too wrapped up in his own concerns. Concerns, by the way, that he still prefers to keep to himself. Always has."
I found myself nodding in agreement at her back. "Yes. And that is where all the troubles start. He doesn't share his plans, or communicate his feelings—if indeed he has any—about anything. Not that I'm any great shakes at it, myself." It was such a relief to speak with someone who understood that Vincent was a bundle of mystery and contradiction. I had started to believe I was simply being unreasonable. Evidently not.
She turned back to me, suddenly solicitous. I felt my guard go up. This was the second time my radar picked up something from her that I couldn’t quite define.
"You do just fine, Fini. My girls adore you, and hang on your every word, smile, frown, approval or disdain. You're much more their hero than Vincent." At this point, Eleanora was touching my arm, and watching my reaction. I pushed her back and studied her face. Why so intimate? And what was she implying about those girls and me? More dependent kids to worry about after all these years? Right then, I knew I was not up to it anymore. It was my turn to look outside into the sunlight, desperately searching for an excuse to avoid more responsibility.
"How can I be a hero? Now, like this?" She came up right behind me.
"Maybe even more so. An unexpected pregnancy is not the end of the world. Been there myself..."
I exploded and turned on her. "Don't patronize me! This is not the same situation at all. There are already four children around Midgar who I can't even claim, let alone nurture. All of them born of my body. My daughters own a part my soul—and two decades of my life. Furthermore, Vincent seems to have been anticipating this. The baby belongs to him, not me. To Nibelheim. I can't give it a home or a mother. Who needs more kids at my age? I should be waiting for grandchildren, not pregnant myself.
"Besides, Lord only knows what sort of monster we've engendered. Both parents are Jenova mutations and possibly something worse. Vincent's not talking, and doesn't even know yet what his capabilities are. Well, neither do I. We are new to our changes and should not be reproducing!" My ranting didn’t even make a dent; Eleanora was smiling and nodding, looking strangely relieved.
"Fini, is that what it is? I knew it. You are fretting about the baby, aren't you? What's done is done. Don’t start worrying. Get some working facts. Matt—Dr. Johann—will expect Vincent to be fully tested, too. He's probably already checking into whatever files he can acquire from the Shinra doctors. What were their names?"
"Andrea and Paula. I never did learn their last name, but it wouldn't surprise me if it turned out to be Tuesti. Oh, no!" Now they would know I was pregnant, as would Reeve. Everyone would be in on the dirty little secret. Never had to face such a public pregnancy before. When I was expecting the girls, I clammed up about it until the visible evidence was overwhelming. Didn’t even make any sort of announcement, except to my husband, celebrating his Father’s Day after I knew for certain.
Geez, this time there was no place to run. Not even anywhere I could hide, now, not without taking great pains to protect the unborn child. Or monster, or whatever. Trapped again. Just like the laboratory specimen I was before. What a ridiculous predicament for a woman my age! With no one to blame but myself.
No fool like an old fool, as they say. Unless it's an old fool in a brand-new body.
Morning in the Mountain
Eleanora led me out of the room into the waiting area. When she had left and shut the door, I walked over to Vincent, still fuming.
"You knew I could become pregnant. And you knew I didn't know." I muttered the words at him, full of resentment for the man who had just then irrevocably interfered with my life. He stood when I entered, and just looked at me, saying nothing.
“It’s your turn in there.” Then I walked out the door, thinking. Sheol must be wondering if I’d forgotten her. Better hurry.
I had things to do, and a pregnancy did not figure in those plans. Not yet.
Except for weapons, everything we needed for the caves was kept at the ranch. I collected a huge stockpile of restorative items at the shop in the town. Then I got an idea and stopped to ask the innkeeper to pack a few packages of cold sea crustaceans and fresh greens. Afterwards I visited the quartermaster. He fitted me with a lightweight mithril-mail vest. Rather than waste any time in discussion, I collected everything allowed, signed for them, and left for the Chocobo Ranch, walking as quickly as I could.
My assistant met me at the gate, under the sign, Nora’s Pride, then we walked in silence. Sheol had been waiting a good hour, and seemed a little miffed. Still, she said nothing, and simply gathered up half of the kit and turned to the mountains. I followed her lead, feeling guilty and trying to sort my thoughts.
When we arrived at the back of the reactor, she turned to me, ready to talk.
"Do you think we'll find it alive?" It? I nearly teared up: she was already Esmerelda to me. Swallowing hard, I was determined to be the voice of reason, regardless of my plans and preparations.
"Not likely, but anything's possible. Hell of a lot of healing yesterday. Problem is, she was already weakened by fasting. And who knows how long that went on? We shouldn't have very high hopes."
"But it was so sad. All those baby dragons! Just one intact egg, and so many insects and small animals foraging among the carcasses."
"You know, Sheol, dragons usually eat those critters. Maybe our emerald lady will have made good use of them. She surely would not allow them to kill her last unhatched chick."
"You think?" My companion looked dubious, and I didn't have any comfort for her.
“We’ll find out soon enough.”
The caves were becoming familiar to me again. We were able to move directly to the nursery, all the while talking loud enough to be heard, so we wouldn’t alarm the mother with a sudden appearance. The broken shells were gone, but the dragon lay inert, not reacting to our approach. My heart fell, and I walked slowly over to the intact egg, still partly tucked under the brood-spot of the fallen warrior.
“See? It should be fine, even though she—” Sheol gasped and I stopped. The huge reptilian eyes were slowly opening! And again I almost lost it. The size of the creature still took my attention away from everything else in and around me. Guess I remembered when such a sight would have ignited the Glow and had me reaching for my bow and quiver. Now I just smiled and sighed with relief.
“It’s still alive!” Sheol yelped, inching backward to the main cave.
“She’s alive! Aren’t you, Esmerelda?” I patted the top of her head, stroking slowly to see if healing would impart to her. Nothing happened, and she just looked at me, serene and trusting, and obviously well. Was she glad to see us?
"How are you feeling, girl? All better?" I began to speak as if she were already a comrade, or more accurately, my beloved charge. Sheol came closer and began to gently stroke her, too. The dragon allowed us to fuss over her, like an attention-starved housepet. We paid no attention to the egg, and spoke to one another as if our new friend understood our words.
“Make sure she can feel your touch through the tougher plates, or stroke her on her less armored spots. You know how a chocobo needs a brisker, heavier slap where the feathers are thickest? The scales are like that.” My Grampa’s words came back to me in almost everything we were doing in here. It was as if he were there with us.
“Can she feel anything at all?” Sheol began to audibly pat the glittering lizard.
“Absolutely. She can feel pressure, the way you do when something strikes your armor, or touches, maybe, a boot or glove that you are wearing. It’s important that she accepts all sorts of human handling. Otherwise she won’t let us near the chick. We may have to mount her and ride her, too, so she knows it’s not aggressive or harmful behavior.” At that, Sheol stared at the huge haunches, looking like a little kid next to a racing bird.
After a while, it was time to make a real overture: out came a bag lunch, an offering of friendship to our new “little” buddy. She hesitated, sniffed and delicately took the first handful of salad greens into her mouth. Then I gave her a fistful of crustaceans that she vacuumed away, almost ingesting my hand and arm. She was hooked, eagerly nosing me for more, her great head nearly pushing me off my feet. Then I told Sheol to feed her a bagful, again starting with greens. There couldn't be enough to sate her hunger, not after weeks of brooding, but I hoped we had enough to make her think about finding some on her own. Also, if she could soon trust us enough to let us handle the egg, it would be a real coup. A few minutes later, we were obliged to show her the empty sacks, so she could see we weren’t hiding any more food.Mentally I began to compose a requisition to the local fishermen; we would probably need crustaceans for dragonets when we removed them from the cave. In the meantime, feeding the mother would encourage her to look forward to our visits from the very beginning. Sheol and I began to discuss the possibility of collecting the cave arthropods for her, using the scythe set low enough to stun, but not fry them. We would need to recruit more dragon trainers: all those partiers in the tavern came immediately to mind. Desiree and Sebastian had already made the first connections with them.
By the time we were ready to return to base, Esmerelda had wholeheartedly accepted us, drifting back to sleep. That felt like more than enough for one day. Later, we could initiate some minor training, to test for her understanding, both of our intent, and maybe even of our language.
After all, who knew how intelligent the old girl might be?
First Foray
New Responsibilities
When I returned to the base, Vincent was nowhere to be found. At first it felt strange to move about alone, but soon I began to feel the place was mine. I explored unassisted and unmolested, making mental notes of the whereabouts of anyone and anything that could possibly be useful for raising and training dragonets, and yes, human babies. This included a trip to the nursery and crèche, where I was very surprised to learn that all the children were placed there right after birth. Parents were expected to visit and raise their kids with the progeny of all the other militia families. That would surely include any child we birthed on the base.
The men and women in charge gave a complete tour, showing me a lovely and spacious underground facility that was designed to be an emergency shelter. The above ground facilities were for dining and general recreation, while the rooms housing individual property and records were below. Stairways were open in all directions, cheerfully decorated in palatial style and enhanced with mirrors and light. As expected for such a high security area, everything could be sealed in an emergency, with air, power and supplies for a long siege.
Parents were stopping in at odd times during my visit, to check on their little ones, or to simply stay and pass the day with them, participating in activities or not, as the spirit moved them. The caregivers indicated that the current level of, well, near-commotion, was permanent, with people arriving, staying, and leaving around the clock. The activity was constant and fluid; one could pass the day just watching the comings and goings of the militia and their families. At one point, I grabbed a quick meal in the lodge and returned to do just that. The passersby waved or came over to greet me.
Each soldier and child was considered a part of the process. And every person was responsible to the rest. In short, the kids related to everyone as family. Not only did the village raise the child, the child belonged to the village, and vice versa. My little rant the previous day was a given in that place. The unborn baby belonged to Nibelheim, or at least the militia of Nibelheim. I hoped that Eleanora understood that all this was news to me. No wonder she was unperturbed by my declaration: it was quite simply everyday policy.
As upsetting as the original thought had been to me in the clinic, the newer revelation was equally disquieting. In fact, it would mean that, if I stayed, all those children were also entrusted to me. Not just the Valentine children. Would I cease to be a Mommy, and never be a Grandma, or did that increase the expectations many times over? After a lifetime of anticipating the usual progression of age and station, everything suddenly seemed unclear. The rest of the day, I wandered around, trying to process the new data. Even stopped poking into things, because I didn’t want any more information to absorb!
On top of that, there would be the question of my own personal status. Just exactly who or what did everyone think I was? A commander? An elder? Was I still an outsider, a vector of disorder, even danger? By the time I went to up to the room in the lodge, my brain was so crowded with unresolved conflict; I had a nagging headache, and felt queasy and a little paranoid. There was no doubt I was being watched, but was it natural curiosity toward a newcomer, or something else entirely?
In the room I lit a fire in the grate, and sat by it, poring over the papers given me by Matthew Johann. Most of the tests were new to me, even as a laboratory assistant, and especially as an expectant mother. I briefly wished I had a viewer to watch Hojo’s file again. Then I decided that the doctor would absolutely need to see that particular record. Maybe he could clarify the procedures performed on me in the operating theater. Then again, maybe I didn’t want to know.
That night wasn't of the peaceful sort, and sleep pretty much eluded me until the early hours. Still, I knew it was important to rest as much as possible, if only to protect the health of the unborn child. It was a habit that should be cultivated, whether I was sleepy or not. I lay in bed with my eyes closed, thinking about the day, counting sheep, and just trying to relax, until I was finally overtaken by sleep, or perhaps just the darkness.
When I woke, I wasn't expecting to find Vincent, or any sign that he had been in the bed, and he did not surprise me. I thought, “Humph! Didn't think it would take much to send him packing, but a complete no-show all night?” Apparently, my nastiness could be very intimidating. Chased him right away, it seemed.
Only thing was that I should have been the person to move out. He belonged to this town, not me. Fair is fair.
Accordingly, I took one last bath—a long and leisurely one—and packed the few things I owned. I dressed in my jeans and top, the ones I wore on the road. Then I folded the clean uniforms, set them on a side table and dropped the rest down the laundry chute. That was something I was going to miss. So simple, so low-tech, and yet one heck of a convenience. Of course, it wasn’t my job to tend the other end of it.
The innkeeper was pleased to regain my business, no doubt because of my recent generosity in the tavern, as well as my newer seafood purchases. I prepaid a week's stay and went up to the suite. The furniture was still in the configuration I had arranged during my previous stopover; reminding me I that should watch the rest of Hojo's file before I turned it over to the clinic. This time it was easy to remain awake, since I was watching and listening for both a specific procedure and any clues to my current condition. The device had a review function, and I simply clicked on through, racing past the stuff I could recall.
Talking heads: click. Droning doctor: click. Incomprehensible procedure on inanimate female subject, i.e., me: watch a bit until grossed out, and then click. Droning doctor: click.
The professor's leering grin and gloating tone signaled the spot I wanted. He was speaking off the cuff, again.
"The separation has now been corrected. The next insemination, should this pregnancy yield the anticipated results, will be in vivo." My stomach rose to my throat, and I ran into the adjoining bath. Whatever made him think it was even remotely possible that I would consider a roll in the hay with him?
Always the dry heaves in the morning and over any little upset during the day. When would the nausea abate? At this point, a supply of 99 Remedies was a permanent part of my kit, and I simply gulped one and continued to watch.
First-level fast forwarding took me to the end without encountering anything special, so I removed the file, and lay back on the bed. Okay, then. Finally, I was able to sleep, just a little, until I felt rested enough to restart the day for real. The huge pillow and fluffy comforter felt much less Spartan than the bedding in the lodge and were just what I needed. This time, sleep came immediately.
Hectic Morning for the Militia
When I awoke, there were various snack foods on a warming tray at my bedside. A sweet, little red bud sat on top of the glass cover, tied with a ribbon to a tiny box of miniature chocolates.
It would be necessary to bar the door a little bit better, if I wanted my privacy. Locks meant nothing to that fellow.
Couldn't tell if this was an amorous overture or just another attempt to flatter some more gil out of my pocket. Cute presentation, but I expected the second explanation was more likely. Still, the meal was just what I needed, and I was soon washed and dressed. After another quick stop for greens and crustaceans, I was on the road out of town.
Even from a distance, it was obvious that this afternoon everything would be different. The entire base was on high alert. Dammit, every time I go off on my own, I miss something important! I rushed to the armory and grabbed my weapons and vest. The quartermaster was listening to a PHS on speaker as he filled my requisition, and he gave me additional details.
The late morning reconnaissance crew had stumbled across a disoriented Blue Dragon on the perimeter of the compound, and was now fully engaged. A call was out for battle reinforcements, especially healers. I ran from the building and had just gone into Float as I aimed towards Mt Nibel. It proved an unexpected bonus.
It's much easier to run while on Float. One doesn't move faster, but the bumps are somewhat smoothed, making the way a bit straighter, the distance shorter. Soon I found a pair of young soldiers running towards the battle, and I joined them, while still struggling into the light-weight mail vest. Stupid thing was catching on my fingernails, then on my belt buckle, and finally on the quiver; it simply wouldn't lie flat against my body. What a nuisance. Still, I couldn't subject the fetus to battle conditions unprotected, and tried to ignore the discomfort it created.
My cohort turned out to be the young blonde who was hanging on Desiree in the pub, and another, much more burly soldier whom I had not yet met.
The woman looked entirely different in uniform, with her golden hair partly contained by a glittering Ribbon, all business-like sobriety. Her weapon was an artistically carved staff, bearing a tiny, jeweled hourglass crafted into something like a gyroscope just above the grip. A seasoned mage, she must already have garnered plenty of experience to wear the most highly prized of all protective accessories. Even our fellowship carried no more than three Ribbons to the North Crater. The other soldier was a handsome young man in rather heavy armor, carrying a huge broadsword. Without any ceremony whatsoever, he initiated a conversation.
"What would a Blue Dragon be doing down here?" Should have known: the young man expected me to have the answer. Feeling somewhat uncomfortable that I actually already knew, I described what Sheol and I witnessed between the two dragons in the grotto.
"Looking for love in the wrong place. The female was sitting on her eggs, not at all receptive to his advances."
"Then he was courting her?" The woman seemed incredulous, and I hoped, sympathetic. A romantic? I wondered if I could enlist her to my designs on the unfortunate northern lindworm.
"Yeah, he came in peacefully, and gently stroked her neck. She lit into him because she was brooding. Quite a battle—and she easily defeated him. Wonder if he deliberately let her win?"
"Poor guy." Aha. She was nibbling the bait. Now if the northern Blue would just survive the battle. After all, we’d remove Esmerelda's chick just as soon as we safely could. It is absolutely necessary that the battle dragonet be hand raised. The female would soon return to her nonbearing state, and her body would be ready to go back into heat. Our tall, dark, indigo stranger could then catch her more willing, submissive attention, and maybe they would produce some hardier stock.
Even to me, it seemed a slightly disingenuous ploy, but it was all for a noble cause.
"All the more sad, when you consider that we may have set him up. We slew a number of Blues on our way to battle Sephiroth. It's possible we killed his companion in the process. Up there, Blues mate for life, you know." All the while I was watching her reaction. She looked appalled, then determined.
"We’d better get there fast." She leaned forward, swung her staff toward the ground, whispering, and the two soldiers were immediately riding on Float with me. Then she swept around, softly hissing another spell that imparted Haste to all of us.
And we were there in no time, arriving right in the thick of a small, but extremely violent battle.
What a bloody mess. It was all animal screeches and soldiers gasping, grunting and moaning. The front line was already down, and the backup was struggling to keep the Blue at bay. Victor, Walter and his people were whacking at the dragon fearlessly, but the animal was giving as good as he got, strike for strike. Outnumbered, but never quite outdone.
We moved in closer, while I raised the wounded, one by one, and prepared to begin healing the injured. I wanted to be certain that we didn't lose anyone while the rest were tied up fighting. There was so much chaos in such a small space; it would be easy to overlook a man down in the crush. Everyone wore the same black and red uniform, making it nearly impossible to see blood or even to differentiate between the wounded and those individuals simply resting on the ground. Then someone was trying to catch my attention, calling to me with an anguished howl.
"Fini! Vincent is in there! He's down!" Screaming hoarsely, Victor was frantically trying to be heard over the roaring of the wounded animal. In where? All I saw was a Blue Dragon with its back to a steep cliff. Why didn't it simply fly out of there?
"Where is he? Where's Vincent?" I muttered and walked up to the beast, deliberately igniting the Glow. The dragon lunged at me and bounced backward, leaving the ground and looking a bit stunned, or maybe just disoriented. Its wings were now clearly damaged, becoming useless for sudden flight. Then I could see one more black and red uniform, lying motionless amidst the bedlam, and rushed in to the wounded man.
It was Vincent, facedown underneath the screeching, thrashing behemoth. I raced in and floated over him, hoping to create a shielding effect. Then I remembered the unborn baby and prayed the Glow would do its proper job, or there would be three dead mutants when the thing landed.
Why in the world did I enter battle while pregnant? It never occurred to me to stay away. My protector needed me, and that overrode my logical thought processes.
A rasping female voice rose above the chaotic din.
"Float, damn you!" The startled dragon looked over the crowd of fighters. The willowy, blonde time mage was moving in, with her companion rushing ahead, running interference. They were soon right behind me. A Blue Dragon causes many status disorders among its fighting gambits, but this guy was already weakened by what must have been a long fight, not to mention the previous battle with our local Green lady. I hoped our young Blondie had enough experience to overcome its natural magical strengths.
"And Stop!" The monster froze in midair. We all stared up at it, panting and gasping. I nodded my satisfaction to the two young warriors.
"That should do it. Someone going to give me a hand with Vincent?" For a while, no one made a move. Resigned to handling the wounded alone, I heard myself sigh as I looked over my erstwhile roommate. The sight really rattled me.
Vincent was out cold. When I tried to raise him, he simply went into what I hoped was healing sleep. Since I couldn't be sure he wasn't suffering a status injury, I decided to stick with him until he returned to consciousness.
Walter came right to me, where I was lying atop Vincent, under the paralyzed Blue. He gestured upwards.
"What are you waiting for? Why don't you kill it?"
"Sorry, Walter. I don't kill dragons. Not anymore. That's probably what got us into this mess. See how long the girl can maintain or repeat Stop. We can send it back into the hills where it belongs." He looked as if I were insane. I knew I was treading on thin ice, and I didn’t care. It didn't matter to me one whit if I were drummed out of town or hounded out of the militia; I wasn't much of a joiner, anyway. My first duty was to the father of my baby; after that, all bets were off.
Walter walked over to the time mage. "Adrianna. What's next? Can you take it from here?"
To my immense relief, she nodded, unruffled. "I don't see why not, if you can keep me stocked with ether. For that matter, I’ll just absorb magic from the dragon itself. He won’t need magic for a while. We shall move the fellow to the caves, if you want. Can we get a transport? He won't stay out forever, and it would be best not to stress him further. He looks rather badly hurt." She gestured with her staff, and a group of soldiers gathered around her. They formed an informal send-off committee and began to push the animal away from the face of the mountain.
Then I had a question for Vincent’s friend.
"Walter, how did this whole encounter start? Was he out here, so close to the base?"
"Yeah, it was licking its wounds. Right out in the open. One of the younger men approached on chocobo, and it grabbed the bird. They managed to get it back—not too badly damaged—but the battle was on."
"What's the policy on enemy encounters? Why interfere with such a dangerous critter?"
"The troop was collecting feed for the stables and gleaning the smaller insects, the ones that the birds prefer. They accidentally stumbled upon the big guy because he was hidden by the thick copse of evergreens. Too bad; we probably should destroy it now, before it regains its faculties."
The armored soldier spoke up.
"How about we cage it in the caves, heal it, feed it, and see if it comes around to our side?" Another ally, I noted with satisfaction. He went on, looking meaningfully in my direction. "If it doesn't, then we can destroy it."
Walter surprised me by signaling his assent. The young man walked up to Adrianna and spoke with her. She brightened considerably, nodding, and he ran in the direction of the base.
After that, I settled on the ground next to Vincent touching his neck, and could feel him drawing the healing from me even in his sleep. He was very badly injured, most likely suffering multiple broken bones and damaged internal organs. It would take everything I had to Cure him. I very gently lay my head on his torso, right on his shoulder, with the rest of my body cuddled against his side. It was necessary to make certain we maintained contact, even if I went deep into my own sleep. I put my hand inside his uniform, flattening it against his chest. In a little while, I could feel myself draining into him, and I closed my eyes. His body began to regain its usual warmth, and my own consciousness started to drift.
"Lift her off me!" Vincent's harsh whisper came through the fog of sleep, reverberating in his chest under my ear. He was getting stronger.
"Leave her, Dad. She's healing you." Victor's soothing tone was significantly louder, even though he was practically whispering. Vincent tried again, struggling to be heard.
"Get her off me. Now!" He ran out of breath. I couldn't open my eyes, but I felt other people removing my head and body from his chest, leaving my hand still touching his skin under the shirt.
"She's curing you, Dad. Let her." Victor was pleading.
"It's not just at her own expense! She's pregnant." Oh great. Even in the semi-unconscious state, I reacted to the revelation. With my eyes closed I still wanted to know who besides Victor had heard. The unseen hands took me away from Vincent. Then I blacked out entirely, entering the deep and dreamless sleep that would restore both my life and magic ability.
When I returned to the base, Vincent was nowhere to be found. At first it felt strange to move about alone, but soon I began to feel the place was mine. I explored unassisted and unmolested, making mental notes of the whereabouts of anyone and anything that could possibly be useful for raising and training dragonets, and yes, human babies. This included a trip to the nursery and crèche, where I was very surprised to learn that all the children were placed there right after birth. Parents were expected to visit and raise their kids with the progeny of all the other militia families. That would surely include any child we birthed on the base.
The men and women in charge gave a complete tour, showing me a lovely and spacious underground facility that was designed to be an emergency shelter. The above ground facilities were for dining and general recreation, while the rooms housing individual property and records were below. Stairways were open in all directions, cheerfully decorated in palatial style and enhanced with mirrors and light. As expected for such a high security area, everything could be sealed in an emergency, with air, power and supplies for a long siege.
Parents were stopping in at odd times during my visit, to check on their little ones, or to simply stay and pass the day with them, participating in activities or not, as the spirit moved them. The caregivers indicated that the current level of, well, near-commotion, was permanent, with people arriving, staying, and leaving around the clock. The activity was constant and fluid; one could pass the day just watching the comings and goings of the militia and their families. At one point, I grabbed a quick meal in the lodge and returned to do just that. The passersby waved or came over to greet me.
Each soldier and child was considered a part of the process. And every person was responsible to the rest. In short, the kids related to everyone as family. Not only did the village raise the child, the child belonged to the village, and vice versa. My little rant the previous day was a given in that place. The unborn baby belonged to Nibelheim, or at least the militia of Nibelheim. I hoped that Eleanora understood that all this was news to me. No wonder she was unperturbed by my declaration: it was quite simply everyday policy.
As upsetting as the original thought had been to me in the clinic, the newer revelation was equally disquieting. In fact, it would mean that, if I stayed, all those children were also entrusted to me. Not just the Valentine children. Would I cease to be a Mommy, and never be a Grandma, or did that increase the expectations many times over? After a lifetime of anticipating the usual progression of age and station, everything suddenly seemed unclear. The rest of the day, I wandered around, trying to process the new data. Even stopped poking into things, because I didn’t want any more information to absorb!
On top of that, there would be the question of my own personal status. Just exactly who or what did everyone think I was? A commander? An elder? Was I still an outsider, a vector of disorder, even danger? By the time I went to up to the room in the lodge, my brain was so crowded with unresolved conflict; I had a nagging headache, and felt queasy and a little paranoid. There was no doubt I was being watched, but was it natural curiosity toward a newcomer, or something else entirely?
In the room I lit a fire in the grate, and sat by it, poring over the papers given me by Matthew Johann. Most of the tests were new to me, even as a laboratory assistant, and especially as an expectant mother. I briefly wished I had a viewer to watch Hojo’s file again. Then I decided that the doctor would absolutely need to see that particular record. Maybe he could clarify the procedures performed on me in the operating theater. Then again, maybe I didn’t want to know.
That night wasn't of the peaceful sort, and sleep pretty much eluded me until the early hours. Still, I knew it was important to rest as much as possible, if only to protect the health of the unborn child. It was a habit that should be cultivated, whether I was sleepy or not. I lay in bed with my eyes closed, thinking about the day, counting sheep, and just trying to relax, until I was finally overtaken by sleep, or perhaps just the darkness.
When I woke, I wasn't expecting to find Vincent, or any sign that he had been in the bed, and he did not surprise me. I thought, “Humph! Didn't think it would take much to send him packing, but a complete no-show all night?” Apparently, my nastiness could be very intimidating. Chased him right away, it seemed.
Only thing was that I should have been the person to move out. He belonged to this town, not me. Fair is fair.
Accordingly, I took one last bath—a long and leisurely one—and packed the few things I owned. I dressed in my jeans and top, the ones I wore on the road. Then I folded the clean uniforms, set them on a side table and dropped the rest down the laundry chute. That was something I was going to miss. So simple, so low-tech, and yet one heck of a convenience. Of course, it wasn’t my job to tend the other end of it.
The innkeeper was pleased to regain my business, no doubt because of my recent generosity in the tavern, as well as my newer seafood purchases. I prepaid a week's stay and went up to the suite. The furniture was still in the configuration I had arranged during my previous stopover; reminding me I that should watch the rest of Hojo's file before I turned it over to the clinic. This time it was easy to remain awake, since I was watching and listening for both a specific procedure and any clues to my current condition. The device had a review function, and I simply clicked on through, racing past the stuff I could recall.
Talking heads: click. Droning doctor: click. Incomprehensible procedure on inanimate female subject, i.e., me: watch a bit until grossed out, and then click. Droning doctor: click.
The professor's leering grin and gloating tone signaled the spot I wanted. He was speaking off the cuff, again.
"The separation has now been corrected. The next insemination, should this pregnancy yield the anticipated results, will be in vivo." My stomach rose to my throat, and I ran into the adjoining bath. Whatever made him think it was even remotely possible that I would consider a roll in the hay with him?
Always the dry heaves in the morning and over any little upset during the day. When would the nausea abate? At this point, a supply of 99 Remedies was a permanent part of my kit, and I simply gulped one and continued to watch.
First-level fast forwarding took me to the end without encountering anything special, so I removed the file, and lay back on the bed. Okay, then. Finally, I was able to sleep, just a little, until I felt rested enough to restart the day for real. The huge pillow and fluffy comforter felt much less Spartan than the bedding in the lodge and were just what I needed. This time, sleep came immediately.
Hectic Morning for the Militia
When I awoke, there were various snack foods on a warming tray at my bedside. A sweet, little red bud sat on top of the glass cover, tied with a ribbon to a tiny box of miniature chocolates.
It would be necessary to bar the door a little bit better, if I wanted my privacy. Locks meant nothing to that fellow.
Couldn't tell if this was an amorous overture or just another attempt to flatter some more gil out of my pocket. Cute presentation, but I expected the second explanation was more likely. Still, the meal was just what I needed, and I was soon washed and dressed. After another quick stop for greens and crustaceans, I was on the road out of town.
Even from a distance, it was obvious that this afternoon everything would be different. The entire base was on high alert. Dammit, every time I go off on my own, I miss something important! I rushed to the armory and grabbed my weapons and vest. The quartermaster was listening to a PHS on speaker as he filled my requisition, and he gave me additional details.
The late morning reconnaissance crew had stumbled across a disoriented Blue Dragon on the perimeter of the compound, and was now fully engaged. A call was out for battle reinforcements, especially healers. I ran from the building and had just gone into Float as I aimed towards Mt Nibel. It proved an unexpected bonus.
It's much easier to run while on Float. One doesn't move faster, but the bumps are somewhat smoothed, making the way a bit straighter, the distance shorter. Soon I found a pair of young soldiers running towards the battle, and I joined them, while still struggling into the light-weight mail vest. Stupid thing was catching on my fingernails, then on my belt buckle, and finally on the quiver; it simply wouldn't lie flat against my body. What a nuisance. Still, I couldn't subject the fetus to battle conditions unprotected, and tried to ignore the discomfort it created.
My cohort turned out to be the young blonde who was hanging on Desiree in the pub, and another, much more burly soldier whom I had not yet met.
The woman looked entirely different in uniform, with her golden hair partly contained by a glittering Ribbon, all business-like sobriety. Her weapon was an artistically carved staff, bearing a tiny, jeweled hourglass crafted into something like a gyroscope just above the grip. A seasoned mage, she must already have garnered plenty of experience to wear the most highly prized of all protective accessories. Even our fellowship carried no more than three Ribbons to the North Crater. The other soldier was a handsome young man in rather heavy armor, carrying a huge broadsword. Without any ceremony whatsoever, he initiated a conversation.
"What would a Blue Dragon be doing down here?" Should have known: the young man expected me to have the answer. Feeling somewhat uncomfortable that I actually already knew, I described what Sheol and I witnessed between the two dragons in the grotto.
"Looking for love in the wrong place. The female was sitting on her eggs, not at all receptive to his advances."
"Then he was courting her?" The woman seemed incredulous, and I hoped, sympathetic. A romantic? I wondered if I could enlist her to my designs on the unfortunate northern lindworm.
"Yeah, he came in peacefully, and gently stroked her neck. She lit into him because she was brooding. Quite a battle—and she easily defeated him. Wonder if he deliberately let her win?"
"Poor guy." Aha. She was nibbling the bait. Now if the northern Blue would just survive the battle. After all, we’d remove Esmerelda's chick just as soon as we safely could. It is absolutely necessary that the battle dragonet be hand raised. The female would soon return to her nonbearing state, and her body would be ready to go back into heat. Our tall, dark, indigo stranger could then catch her more willing, submissive attention, and maybe they would produce some hardier stock.
Even to me, it seemed a slightly disingenuous ploy, but it was all for a noble cause.
"All the more sad, when you consider that we may have set him up. We slew a number of Blues on our way to battle Sephiroth. It's possible we killed his companion in the process. Up there, Blues mate for life, you know." All the while I was watching her reaction. She looked appalled, then determined.
"We’d better get there fast." She leaned forward, swung her staff toward the ground, whispering, and the two soldiers were immediately riding on Float with me. Then she swept around, softly hissing another spell that imparted Haste to all of us.And we were there in no time, arriving right in the thick of a small, but extremely violent battle.
What a bloody mess. It was all animal screeches and soldiers gasping, grunting and moaning. The front line was already down, and the backup was struggling to keep the Blue at bay. Victor, Walter and his people were whacking at the dragon fearlessly, but the animal was giving as good as he got, strike for strike. Outnumbered, but never quite outdone.
We moved in closer, while I raised the wounded, one by one, and prepared to begin healing the injured. I wanted to be certain that we didn't lose anyone while the rest were tied up fighting. There was so much chaos in such a small space; it would be easy to overlook a man down in the crush. Everyone wore the same black and red uniform, making it nearly impossible to see blood or even to differentiate between the wounded and those individuals simply resting on the ground. Then someone was trying to catch my attention, calling to me with an anguished howl.
"Fini! Vincent is in there! He's down!" Screaming hoarsely, Victor was frantically trying to be heard over the roaring of the wounded animal. In where? All I saw was a Blue Dragon with its back to a steep cliff. Why didn't it simply fly out of there?
"Where is he? Where's Vincent?" I muttered and walked up to the beast, deliberately igniting the Glow. The dragon lunged at me and bounced backward, leaving the ground and looking a bit stunned, or maybe just disoriented. Its wings were now clearly damaged, becoming useless for sudden flight. Then I could see one more black and red uniform, lying motionless amidst the bedlam, and rushed in to the wounded man.
It was Vincent, facedown underneath the screeching, thrashing behemoth. I raced in and floated over him, hoping to create a shielding effect. Then I remembered the unborn baby and prayed the Glow would do its proper job, or there would be three dead mutants when the thing landed.
Why in the world did I enter battle while pregnant? It never occurred to me to stay away. My protector needed me, and that overrode my logical thought processes.
A rasping female voice rose above the chaotic din.
"Float, damn you!" The startled dragon looked over the crowd of fighters. The willowy, blonde time mage was moving in, with her companion rushing ahead, running interference. They were soon right behind me. A Blue Dragon causes many status disorders among its fighting gambits, but this guy was already weakened by what must have been a long fight, not to mention the previous battle with our local Green lady. I hoped our young Blondie had enough experience to overcome its natural magical strengths.
"And Stop!" The monster froze in midair. We all stared up at it, panting and gasping. I nodded my satisfaction to the two young warriors.
"That should do it. Someone going to give me a hand with Vincent?" For a while, no one made a move. Resigned to handling the wounded alone, I heard myself sigh as I looked over my erstwhile roommate. The sight really rattled me.
Vincent was out cold. When I tried to raise him, he simply went into what I hoped was healing sleep. Since I couldn't be sure he wasn't suffering a status injury, I decided to stick with him until he returned to consciousness.
Walter came right to me, where I was lying atop Vincent, under the paralyzed Blue. He gestured upwards.
"What are you waiting for? Why don't you kill it?"
"Sorry, Walter. I don't kill dragons. Not anymore. That's probably what got us into this mess. See how long the girl can maintain or repeat Stop. We can send it back into the hills where it belongs." He looked as if I were insane. I knew I was treading on thin ice, and I didn’t care. It didn't matter to me one whit if I were drummed out of town or hounded out of the militia; I wasn't much of a joiner, anyway. My first duty was to the father of my baby; after that, all bets were off.
Walter walked over to the time mage. "Adrianna. What's next? Can you take it from here?"
To my immense relief, she nodded, unruffled. "I don't see why not, if you can keep me stocked with ether. For that matter, I’ll just absorb magic from the dragon itself. He won’t need magic for a while. We shall move the fellow to the caves, if you want. Can we get a transport? He won't stay out forever, and it would be best not to stress him further. He looks rather badly hurt." She gestured with her staff, and a group of soldiers gathered around her. They formed an informal send-off committee and began to push the animal away from the face of the mountain.
Then I had a question for Vincent’s friend.
"Walter, how did this whole encounter start? Was he out here, so close to the base?"
"Yeah, it was licking its wounds. Right out in the open. One of the younger men approached on chocobo, and it grabbed the bird. They managed to get it back—not too badly damaged—but the battle was on."
"What's the policy on enemy encounters? Why interfere with such a dangerous critter?"
"The troop was collecting feed for the stables and gleaning the smaller insects, the ones that the birds prefer. They accidentally stumbled upon the big guy because he was hidden by the thick copse of evergreens. Too bad; we probably should destroy it now, before it regains its faculties."
The armored soldier spoke up.
"How about we cage it in the caves, heal it, feed it, and see if it comes around to our side?" Another ally, I noted with satisfaction. He went on, looking meaningfully in my direction. "If it doesn't, then we can destroy it."
Walter surprised me by signaling his assent. The young man walked up to Adrianna and spoke with her. She brightened considerably, nodding, and he ran in the direction of the base.
After that, I settled on the ground next to Vincent touching his neck, and could feel him drawing the healing from me even in his sleep. He was very badly injured, most likely suffering multiple broken bones and damaged internal organs. It would take everything I had to Cure him. I very gently lay my head on his torso, right on his shoulder, with the rest of my body cuddled against his side. It was necessary to make certain we maintained contact, even if I went deep into my own sleep. I put my hand inside his uniform, flattening it against his chest. In a little while, I could feel myself draining into him, and I closed my eyes. His body began to regain its usual warmth, and my own consciousness started to drift.
"Lift her off me!" Vincent's harsh whisper came through the fog of sleep, reverberating in his chest under my ear. He was getting stronger.
"Leave her, Dad. She's healing you." Victor's soothing tone was significantly louder, even though he was practically whispering. Vincent tried again, struggling to be heard.
"Get her off me. Now!" He ran out of breath. I couldn't open my eyes, but I felt other people removing my head and body from his chest, leaving my hand still touching his skin under the shirt.
"She's curing you, Dad. Let her." Victor was pleading.
"It's not just at her own expense! She's pregnant." Oh great. Even in the semi-unconscious state, I reacted to the revelation. With my eyes closed I still wanted to know who besides Victor had heard. The unseen hands took me away from Vincent. Then I blacked out entirely, entering the deep and dreamless sleep that would restore both my life and magic ability.
Pillow Talk
The next thing I remembered was the bright sun of another shining Nibelheim morning coming through the floor-to-ceiling window, accenting the dust motes in the air. Didn’t anyone ever shut the blinds in this lodge? And was I sleeping without nightclothes again? No, I was dressed, but the bed linens were still in place, flattened underneath me. I sat up straight and was rewarded with a short, partly-stifled grunt of pain from Vincent, who was lying at my side.
“What the—? What am I doing here with you?” Brother, I can’t remember a time when I ever woke in bed with a person whom I hadn’t specifically invited. Apparently, Vincent's arm had been under my head as we slept. We were both fully dressed but sans armor, lying together as we did on the road and in the Northern Crater. I lay back down again, and stared at the ceiling, thinking how strange it was to feel weird about sleeping with him now.
“The decision to bunk together, as you often call it, was made for us. No matter: we can separate, if you are still furious with me.” I turned to look at him, and found I couldn’t. Vincent was actually lying on the other side of a blanket roll, no doubt to prevent any accidental contact that would cause me to further heal his wounds. He still looked pretty beat up, and my resolve began to melt. I raised myself onto my elbow and spoke over the bolster.
“What a mess. It’s your own fault, you know. I heard everything everyone said, just before they stopped me from healing you. And who are you to unilaterally decide to announce our pregnancy?” I pointed an accusing finger at him, half amused, half annoyed. His answer was immediate and cutting.
“Why not? Were you planning to terminate it?” It was as if he cuffed me! Truly, the idea never entered my mind. After twenty years of mourning the loss of my fertility, nothing could be less likely. In fact, the love for the unnamed—unsexed, even—fetus was already growing. It was fierce, an angry sort of feeling, burned into my soul only one day after the test; I would kill to protect the unborn child.
“Vincent. By everything I hold dear, I swear I would never destroy our baby. Or any child already born or otherwise: the very thought upsets me. This little one didn’t ask to be conceived, and I will do everything in my power to keep it safe.” A most noble declaration, for sure, but I knew what was coming next. Vincent did not disabuse me, although he was very gentle about it.
“Really? What were you doing then, in battle with a dragon? You must have seen what had happened to me. All the ribs on my right side are broken, as are my right arm and leg. You’d already healed the punctured lung before they could stop you.” Sounded like a scolding, coupled with fishing for sympathy. Why hadn’t they finished the job? I reached for his face and neck, but he blocked me with a gloved hand, hissing with pain. I tried to look contrite about my part in the battle, but I had simply forgotten. What else could I say?
“Guilty as charged. I forgot. Then I remembered, but after I saw you lying there, I forgot again. It’s hard to get used to the idea of being pregnant. After all, I was incapable of conceiving for decades.
"You have my word: that was the last battle until this baby is born.”
Now I was the guilty one, and I knew it. How could I forget, not even a half day after the positive results? If I were killed, the almost microscopic baby would surely be lost. Still, after weeks, even months on the road, amid all the struggles against monsters, mutant and natural, all the danger, all the killing, it seemed there was only one reaction possible to a call to battle. Besides, we had plans for the Blue Dragon; he would be put to stud.
Ahem. What I mean is, we would encourage him to romance our Esmerelda.
“Hey, any word on that Blue Dragon?” Vincent looked even sterner than before, so I said nothing else and tried to look contrite.
“Victor told me that it is being held in the caves behind the reactor. What in the name of Holy are you thinking? The Randolphs believe you have lost your sanity. When I mentioned gathering a group of supporters around you, collecting dragons was not what I had in mind. The monster should have been destroyed while it was contained by Stop.”
“The Blue is still contained?” There were more questions, but his exasperated expression stopped me short. Time for another tack.
“Vincent, you have to let me heal you. I won’t leave you alone until you do.” That worked. He chuckled slyly, finishing with a choked cough. It had to hurt, what with the broken ribs and all the bruising, visible and otherwise.
“Josephine, then I may never allow it. You seem very solicitous, almost forgiving right now.”
He looked almost wistful. “So, all I need do to win your heart is to be wounded in battle? Even unconscious, you objected to our separation, saying my name and whimpering when they took you away. You have always shown a softer side to the fallen warriors, haven’t you?” Vincent himself looked tenderly at me, as one would look at a naughty, but helpless, pet. Great. Another pushover. There was going to be a very spoiled little Valentine on the way, with us two softies for parents. I had to laugh.
“How embarrassing! Maybe so. My mother was a white mage before she became a homemaker. Dad was an instructor for as long as I knew him, before he threw me out of the clan. He was wonderful with babies. Nurturing must be in my blood. Never thought about it before, even though I go around saying that Hojo had decided that the Jenova effect was simply an enhancement of an otherwise naturally-occurring trait.
“So you see, Vincent? Our child will have a ready-made teacher.” Then I remembered the communal crèche and the professionals that would surely teach better than I could. And spoiling was probably not on the curriculum. After raising two children almost by myself, would I miss this baby? My wounded bunkmate cut into the musings before I could formulate a mental answer.
“Josephine, we don’t need you to leave your vocation. Just put the battling on hold until after childbirth.” Nodding sheepishly, I then turned the conversation back to him. We were friends again, it seemed. Hate to admit it, but I preferred it that way. When did I cease to enjoy a good squabble, especially one that afforded me time on my own?
“Vincent. What the hell? Why didn’t they cure you? You look like someone did a tap dance on your face. At least let me heal you, to ease the pain.” He blocked me again; both arms were fully covered, gloves and all. Made me feel like a leper.
“If you feel you must, but please use magic and restorative items, to protect the health of our child. Josephine, I suspect our match-making family and friends preferred that you tend to me yourself. Victor was adamant that I should let you cure me, and he was very unwilling to separate us on the battlefield. At least until I revealed our little secret.” He seemed amused by the notion. I must say it struck me as odd, just the same. Why leave a man so obviously wounded and in pain? I studied him, only to find him studying me, equally quizzical. Finally, I got it, and pointed another accusing finger towards him, only this time it was more playful.
“Another conspiracy? You yourself want me to heal you. Kiss it and make it better. Is that it? Why don’t you just say so?” It was his turn to look sheepish. Then he frowned, resolutely serious again. He spoke firmly.
“Surely you can now spare some of your sweetness for me. You will heal me, and forgive my presumptions. No more fighting over the pregnancy.” He had a look of defiance that made me quail just a bit. As conditions, they were absolute. It was just his way.
“But how could you lead me down the garden path?” There would be no apologies? “How about an explanation, at least?”
“Josephine, have you forgotten, then? I can see that you are very modern in your thinking, even for a lady of your youth.” I giggled at his joke; even in my regenerating body, I could hardly be considered a youth, but Vincent was on his customary soapbox, being the teacher, the moralist. Yeah, the priss. “Until very recently, pregnancy was never before a thing to prevent or discard. For anyone thoughtful and responsible, choosing a lover includes the consideration of him or her as a possible parent."
Why did I get the feeling he'd had this conversation before? Did he say the same to Eleanora, three decades ago? He wasn't finished with me, just yet, although the rest didn't sound rehearsed.
“And you are the naturalist, the one who studied all things biological, aren’t you? Thus I chose you. It was no accident; your body healed itself in every other system. I only realized your ignorance of the possibility a little too late. While it is unfortunate that you were caught off guard, there was no malice or subterfuge on my part. It was clear after the first day or two that you didn't realize your condition. Or did you simply not wish to face the reality and its imperatives?”
“Ouch. That smarts.” I said it aloud, feeling hurt and somewhat foolish. There were so many hints along the way. Vincent saw all of them and was suggesting that I chose not to do so. On the other hand, it would have prevented so many problems if he simply had communicated his views to me. After all, I am not a mind-reader.
“Why didn’t you say something? Gosh, I’ll be the first to admit I don’t think of everything. And when you begin to purr at me and things are, well, happening sort of fast…” It all sounded like excuses when he looked at me so seriously and disapprovingly. But then he smiled, and all was well in my little universe.
“All right: you win. Miss Josephine. I think you’re pregnant. Are we going to have a baby?”
“Gosh, Mr. Valentine, do you think so? Why, yes, sir, I suppose we will. Thought of any names, yet?”
“If it’s a son: Joseph sounds good as the masculine version of your pretty name.” Now his arm was around me, so I reached up to caress his face and neck. Without saying another word, I sprinkled him with an X-potion and again with Remedy. His strength was returning, becoming evident in his touch: he seemed both stronger and more relaxed. More like Vincent.
Once I was assured that he was well, I pursued the rest of the conversation.
“No, thank you. What’s wrong with Vincent? How about Victor, or maybe Hector? Something that sounds heroic.” Already he looked better, more comfortable, and I myself began to feel less on guard. We could surely work out these misunderstandings; at times like this we really did seem compatible, after all. Then he was speaking in a very soothing whisper, low and mellow, rather unlike him, sounding almost casual, but quickly drifting from me. I barely heard his next question.
“Would you consider Aerith for a girl?” That sounded good, totally appropriate for our daughter. I nodded approval, but by then he was already unresponsive. I placed my hand onto his neck, and began to gently stroke his throat, right on the pulse point.
“How silly to start naming it so soon. Better now?” I gently kissed him on the lips, deliberately trying to heal him against his orders. He looked at me strangely, and then closed his eyes. Sleeping? Looked like it, although I could never be sure, and watching him made me uneasy.
After a minute, I realized I was shaking uncontrollably.
Never saw Vincent sleep before. Ever.
“What the—? What am I doing here with you?” Brother, I can’t remember a time when I ever woke in bed with a person whom I hadn’t specifically invited. Apparently, Vincent's arm had been under my head as we slept. We were both fully dressed but sans armor, lying together as we did on the road and in the Northern Crater. I lay back down again, and stared at the ceiling, thinking how strange it was to feel weird about sleeping with him now.
“The decision to bunk together, as you often call it, was made for us. No matter: we can separate, if you are still furious with me.” I turned to look at him, and found I couldn’t. Vincent was actually lying on the other side of a blanket roll, no doubt to prevent any accidental contact that would cause me to further heal his wounds. He still looked pretty beat up, and my resolve began to melt. I raised myself onto my elbow and spoke over the bolster.
“What a mess. It’s your own fault, you know. I heard everything everyone said, just before they stopped me from healing you. And who are you to unilaterally decide to announce our pregnancy?” I pointed an accusing finger at him, half amused, half annoyed. His answer was immediate and cutting.
“Why not? Were you planning to terminate it?” It was as if he cuffed me! Truly, the idea never entered my mind. After twenty years of mourning the loss of my fertility, nothing could be less likely. In fact, the love for the unnamed—unsexed, even—fetus was already growing. It was fierce, an angry sort of feeling, burned into my soul only one day after the test; I would kill to protect the unborn child.
“Vincent. By everything I hold dear, I swear I would never destroy our baby. Or any child already born or otherwise: the very thought upsets me. This little one didn’t ask to be conceived, and I will do everything in my power to keep it safe.” A most noble declaration, for sure, but I knew what was coming next. Vincent did not disabuse me, although he was very gentle about it.
“Really? What were you doing then, in battle with a dragon? You must have seen what had happened to me. All the ribs on my right side are broken, as are my right arm and leg. You’d already healed the punctured lung before they could stop you.” Sounded like a scolding, coupled with fishing for sympathy. Why hadn’t they finished the job? I reached for his face and neck, but he blocked me with a gloved hand, hissing with pain. I tried to look contrite about my part in the battle, but I had simply forgotten. What else could I say?
“Guilty as charged. I forgot. Then I remembered, but after I saw you lying there, I forgot again. It’s hard to get used to the idea of being pregnant. After all, I was incapable of conceiving for decades.
"You have my word: that was the last battle until this baby is born.”
Now I was the guilty one, and I knew it. How could I forget, not even a half day after the positive results? If I were killed, the almost microscopic baby would surely be lost. Still, after weeks, even months on the road, amid all the struggles against monsters, mutant and natural, all the danger, all the killing, it seemed there was only one reaction possible to a call to battle. Besides, we had plans for the Blue Dragon; he would be put to stud.
Ahem. What I mean is, we would encourage him to romance our Esmerelda.
“Hey, any word on that Blue Dragon?” Vincent looked even sterner than before, so I said nothing else and tried to look contrite.
“Victor told me that it is being held in the caves behind the reactor. What in the name of Holy are you thinking? The Randolphs believe you have lost your sanity. When I mentioned gathering a group of supporters around you, collecting dragons was not what I had in mind. The monster should have been destroyed while it was contained by Stop.”
“The Blue is still contained?” There were more questions, but his exasperated expression stopped me short. Time for another tack.
“Vincent, you have to let me heal you. I won’t leave you alone until you do.” That worked. He chuckled slyly, finishing with a choked cough. It had to hurt, what with the broken ribs and all the bruising, visible and otherwise.
“Josephine, then I may never allow it. You seem very solicitous, almost forgiving right now.”
He looked almost wistful. “So, all I need do to win your heart is to be wounded in battle? Even unconscious, you objected to our separation, saying my name and whimpering when they took you away. You have always shown a softer side to the fallen warriors, haven’t you?” Vincent himself looked tenderly at me, as one would look at a naughty, but helpless, pet. Great. Another pushover. There was going to be a very spoiled little Valentine on the way, with us two softies for parents. I had to laugh.
“How embarrassing! Maybe so. My mother was a white mage before she became a homemaker. Dad was an instructor for as long as I knew him, before he threw me out of the clan. He was wonderful with babies. Nurturing must be in my blood. Never thought about it before, even though I go around saying that Hojo had decided that the Jenova effect was simply an enhancement of an otherwise naturally-occurring trait.
“So you see, Vincent? Our child will have a ready-made teacher.” Then I remembered the communal crèche and the professionals that would surely teach better than I could. And spoiling was probably not on the curriculum. After raising two children almost by myself, would I miss this baby? My wounded bunkmate cut into the musings before I could formulate a mental answer.
“Josephine, we don’t need you to leave your vocation. Just put the battling on hold until after childbirth.” Nodding sheepishly, I then turned the conversation back to him. We were friends again, it seemed. Hate to admit it, but I preferred it that way. When did I cease to enjoy a good squabble, especially one that afforded me time on my own?
“Vincent. What the hell? Why didn’t they cure you? You look like someone did a tap dance on your face. At least let me heal you, to ease the pain.” He blocked me again; both arms were fully covered, gloves and all. Made me feel like a leper.
“If you feel you must, but please use magic and restorative items, to protect the health of our child. Josephine, I suspect our match-making family and friends preferred that you tend to me yourself. Victor was adamant that I should let you cure me, and he was very unwilling to separate us on the battlefield. At least until I revealed our little secret.” He seemed amused by the notion. I must say it struck me as odd, just the same. Why leave a man so obviously wounded and in pain? I studied him, only to find him studying me, equally quizzical. Finally, I got it, and pointed another accusing finger towards him, only this time it was more playful.
“Another conspiracy? You yourself want me to heal you. Kiss it and make it better. Is that it? Why don’t you just say so?” It was his turn to look sheepish. Then he frowned, resolutely serious again. He spoke firmly.
“Surely you can now spare some of your sweetness for me. You will heal me, and forgive my presumptions. No more fighting over the pregnancy.” He had a look of defiance that made me quail just a bit. As conditions, they were absolute. It was just his way.
“But how could you lead me down the garden path?” There would be no apologies? “How about an explanation, at least?”
“Josephine, have you forgotten, then? I can see that you are very modern in your thinking, even for a lady of your youth.” I giggled at his joke; even in my regenerating body, I could hardly be considered a youth, but Vincent was on his customary soapbox, being the teacher, the moralist. Yeah, the priss. “Until very recently, pregnancy was never before a thing to prevent or discard. For anyone thoughtful and responsible, choosing a lover includes the consideration of him or her as a possible parent."
Why did I get the feeling he'd had this conversation before? Did he say the same to Eleanora, three decades ago? He wasn't finished with me, just yet, although the rest didn't sound rehearsed.
“And you are the naturalist, the one who studied all things biological, aren’t you? Thus I chose you. It was no accident; your body healed itself in every other system. I only realized your ignorance of the possibility a little too late. While it is unfortunate that you were caught off guard, there was no malice or subterfuge on my part. It was clear after the first day or two that you didn't realize your condition. Or did you simply not wish to face the reality and its imperatives?”
“Ouch. That smarts.” I said it aloud, feeling hurt and somewhat foolish. There were so many hints along the way. Vincent saw all of them and was suggesting that I chose not to do so. On the other hand, it would have prevented so many problems if he simply had communicated his views to me. After all, I am not a mind-reader.
“Why didn’t you say something? Gosh, I’ll be the first to admit I don’t think of everything. And when you begin to purr at me and things are, well, happening sort of fast…” It all sounded like excuses when he looked at me so seriously and disapprovingly. But then he smiled, and all was well in my little universe.
“All right: you win. Miss Josephine. I think you’re pregnant. Are we going to have a baby?”
“Gosh, Mr. Valentine, do you think so? Why, yes, sir, I suppose we will. Thought of any names, yet?”
“If it’s a son: Joseph sounds good as the masculine version of your pretty name.” Now his arm was around me, so I reached up to caress his face and neck. Without saying another word, I sprinkled him with an X-potion and again with Remedy. His strength was returning, becoming evident in his touch: he seemed both stronger and more relaxed. More like Vincent.
Once I was assured that he was well, I pursued the rest of the conversation.
“No, thank you. What’s wrong with Vincent? How about Victor, or maybe Hector? Something that sounds heroic.” Already he looked better, more comfortable, and I myself began to feel less on guard. We could surely work out these misunderstandings; at times like this we really did seem compatible, after all. Then he was speaking in a very soothing whisper, low and mellow, rather unlike him, sounding almost casual, but quickly drifting from me. I barely heard his next question.
“Would you consider Aerith for a girl?” That sounded good, totally appropriate for our daughter. I nodded approval, but by then he was already unresponsive. I placed my hand onto his neck, and began to gently stroke his throat, right on the pulse point.
“How silly to start naming it so soon. Better now?” I gently kissed him on the lips, deliberately trying to heal him against his orders. He looked at me strangely, and then closed his eyes. Sleeping? Looked like it, although I could never be sure, and watching him made me uneasy.
After a minute, I realized I was shaking uncontrollably.
Never saw Vincent sleep before. Ever.
Kulloden's Assertion
Another Round in the Morning
My first stop was to be the Blue Dragon’s recovery cave. I wanted to make the rounds quickly, and then take Sheol for a visit with Esmerelda. Time to test her reaction to our handling the unhatched egg.
It occurred to me that this morning it was my turn to leave my partner without waking him. I briefly wondered if he would miss me, and possibly even chide me for deserting him. Then I remembered his comment about not wasting hours while the other slept. Not wanting to interrupt his rest, I reached again for the pulse at his throat, in hopes of detecting any need for healing.
And nearly fainted when he suddenly took my hand and placed my palm on his face.
"Your hands are always cool in the morning, Josephine. It's as if you can't make your blood pump hard enough to warm you in the early hours." I yanked back my hand and put it on my hip.
"You did that on purpose! Think you're funny?" He nodded, smiling, pleased with his successful ruse.
"You said you wanted me here in the morning, to kiss you, and thank you, and say goodbye. You sleep very hard, Little One. I wondered if perhaps you disobeyed me." I snorted silently and shook my head.
"Vincent, being here was for after a night of love. And yes, I did try to heal you further, but the X-potion and Remedy got there first.
"I watched you sleep. You know, I never saw you sleep before. Didn't know if it was a rare privilege and a joy, or a horror." Even as I said it, the panic was welling up inside me. It was all so confusing. Was sleep a good thing for him or not? Why didn't he ever sleep otherwise?
"Josephine, thank you for curing me. While I didn't sleep very long, it is a credit to your abilities that this morning I feel more comfortable and relaxed than I have since you raised me from the coffin in the Shinra Mansion.
"And I can overlook your defiance of my orders." Each time I heard him mention disobey, or orders, I could almost feel the hackles rising on the back of my neck. He noted my reaction and smiled again. "You don't accept my authority?"
"No, I do not. Who the hell are you?" Funny how I just fell into the habit of fighting against his outdated nonsense. At that moment, I didn't even feel angry about it, just sort of amused by such quaint notions.
"The father of your child." He tried to pull me towards him, but I drew back and let out one bitter laugh.
"Pfft! So was Hojo." I wondered about that. To this very day, I do not recall how it was I escaped the laboratory, and got away from the Professor and his minions. There would have to be some explanations from Reeve Tuesti's "girls." Some day.
Vincent saw me thinking, and pulled me closer, successfully catching me off guard. He looked directly into my eyes, his own a deep maroon.
“I am the one who will protect you and our unborn child during the pregnancy. And the father who will love and instruct our child. You and our baby are not simply my passing experimental interest.
"You can at the very least accord me the civility due a friend and a lover. Keep me informed of your comings and goings, even if it's only after the fact. You have my PHS code." He kissed my lips gently and waited for my reaction. I looked deep into his eyes and spoke in the same tone, imitating his preaching.
"And you have mine. It wouldn't kill you to do the same for me." He continued smiling, uncharacteristically relaxed and happy. "Vincent, is that all you really want?"
"Maybe so. What is it you really want, Josephine?"
"Right now? To go visit my dragons. I'll take the rest of the day as it comes. Goodbye and stay safe." I kissed him just as he had kissed me and touched his cheek. It was warm; Vincent almost always felt warm, that is, when he was well and not injured. Then I left without looking back.
"It would probably be a good idea to call around noon." I muttered the words aloud, as I descended the stairs to the common rooms. I was both queasy and starving, and hoped that there was plenty of breakfast left from the troops’ mess. It would be a long day.
Ken's New Buddy
Adrianna greeted me briefly while supervising the soldiers who were feeding and healing the Great Blue. The old boy was enormous, almost twice the size of a Green. As a rule, the northern dragons are characteristically huge. North country people even call our Greens the "Lesser Lindworms." Grampa often told me that dragons are all related, even the ones that didn’t look like the rest. The differences were simple evolutionary adaptations to various habitats, the same as size and color used to be in Prehistoric times on the Ancient Planet. The great lizards would pay no more mind to color or slight morphological differences than we do ourselves. Mating was always entirely dependent on chemistry and physiology, no matter the subspecies or melanism.
The young people attending the Blue were busily coming and going. Nearby was a small, open footlocker with the crustaceans I purchased the day before, as well as other, restorative items. For his part, the great northern lindworm watched the activity calmly, seeming to take it all in stride. The burly soldier had become the primary healer and was speaking in a soothing tone as he applied Cure and Heal. The dragon related well to him; with luck, a rudimentary friendship was being forged.
The young man waved me over to the huge lizard. He stood with his back to the dragon, just as a proud collector would pose while displaying his trophy auto or motorcycle.
"Ma'am? What do you think of Buddy? He's unfazed by any of our hustle and bustle." He slapped the dragon’s side, and it turned its huge muzzle toward him, then to me.
"Eh? Named him already? I was hoping for some sort of fancy nom de guerre. You know: Cobalt, Cerulean or some such."
The young man shot back, "Fine. But we'll still call him Buddy." His miffed reaction caught me by surprise. Clearly this show was not all mine to run. Oh well, two heads are better, as they say.
"Buddy's good. Pick some sort of surname, then. His offspring will need to indicate their pedigree." He looked a bit serious for a moment, nodding a few times, and then turned away.
It occurred to me that I didn't know his name, or anything else about him, for that matter. "Hey, soldier, didn't quite catch yours, either." I stuck out my right hand. The fellow took it and bowed slightly over it, in a very courtly manner. Not a handshake; he raised my proffered hand to just below his chin, then slowly and very ceremoniously relinquished it. It all looked so Ancient World: I was itching to know more about him. He stood at attention and began to recite.
“Daiki Woods, but my family has always called me Ken. I’m from the forest lands outside Junon City.” The name sounded familiar. I responded in kind. “Josephine Lindorm. Everyone around here calls me Fini, but my family always used Josey.” Ken looked surprised, although he quickly recovered, offering an explanation.
“I’ve heard tell of a lovely lady bard, also a Josephine, who married a Lindorm who was a ranger-dragoon. They courted in the woodlands near my home. It's something of a local legend.” He spoke in a low, secret-sharing voice, but I’d already nodded. We Lindorms were well aware of their rather unconventional, somewhat naughty courtship. Their love was considered the romantic ideal of our clan.
“My Grammy and Grampa Lindorm! Was it Junon? Too bad, I’m not especially fond of the place. Shinra tortured me there." Then I remembered the possible connection.
“Hey, did you ever meet an Elite named Jim Ryu?”
“My mother's eldest brother. He went missing in action during Sapphire Weapon’s attack on Junon a few months back. Only just recently resurfaced. He refuses to talk about it. Did Uncle Jim romance you, too?” Was the young fellow leering?
“Certainly not! He helped me escape and return to my comrades. A good guy. A fine man, concerned only for his family. He wanted to do the right thing, you know. He mentioned your mother and his wife. No one was to know his whereabouts until after the conflict was resolved. We tried to keep him apart from our activities, under the Shinra radar, as it were.” Did everyone take it for granted that I was some sort of chippie? Mum was a bit of a flirt, but I had hoped that the image I projected was somewhat more sober than that.
Ken looked contrite and quickly said, “Forgive me. Uncle Jim was quite a blade in his young days. He still talks a good game. You have my solemn word: he never said anything about rescuing you.”
“Humph. Don’t know that I’d say he rescued me. We sort of left for safety together. Vincent Valentine ultimately lifted us both to the airship.” Geez, let’s not start any sort of rumors. Jim was so worried about his family learning anything. If he was a ladies' man, it didn’t figure in our flight from Junon.
Seemed to me that any person who managed to survive to maturity had some sort of peccadillo that would haunt them to the end of their days. It just never occurred to me to ever consider Jim a flirt. He was just a gentleman, a knight of the Old Order.
My musings were interrupted by Sheol, who was frantically signaling for my attention. She looked like a small padre among the soldiers, at least until one noticed the pretty face behind the oversized spectacles.
“Hey, kid, where’s the Grim Reaper's Scythe?” Just had to have my little dig. Sheol rolled her eyes at the reference. “Back at the entrance to this chamber. We don’t need it near the dragons. Besides, we were harvesting the cave insects, and it was too jazzed to carry around for a while.” What a concept! My arrows were usually dripping with gore, but never too warm to recover after battle.
“How’s that going? Will we have enough to continuously feed our friends?” That was the first time I thought about the actual day-to-day maintenance of the dragons. Wouldn't they just feed themselves once they regained a modicum of independence? And the hills must be full of the vermin that sustain the local great lizards.
“Sure. The bugs just swarm over anything that moves or even lies dead. Nasty, disgusting things. I hate to have to touch them, especially to shove them in a sack for feeding.” Her obvious distaste made me wonder if she would forgo looting the corpse of a relinquished enemy. What a waste that would be. I was then struck by how coarse my thinking had become over the months!
“It’s only temporary. Shortly, we’ll encourage both dragons to range around. We can’t hold them captive; service has to be voluntary. It wouldn’t be right to drag them captive into battle.
"You have any left for Esmerelda? Don't forget our girl. She's still brooding, and may not be properly caring for herself.” But Sheol had already taken charge of things; she had a better idea.
"No, Fini. We're going to gather fresh ones for our great big mommy. She deserves the best." Ahah. Looked like the Reaper had bought into our project. I hoped we would be rewarded with a tiny dragonet soon. The kids probably would not understand how long this breeding experiment would take. Dragons do not count time the same as humans. We would have a baby that might not be trainable for years.
Ken then caught my eye, bowed deeply and begged to be given leave to return to his own work. I nodded. Some of these young men were cultivating the habits of the Ancient Orders, almost as much monks as warriors. And I approve heartily of the Disciplines; everyone should learn to relate to others on many different planes, and to contain their impulses, according to the situation.
I am still working on that latter one.
Playing with the Baby
On our way out of the Blue Dragon's chamber, I turned to Sheol, inviting her to lead the way. We would have to work together to collect enough to feed Esmerelda. Her contentment was the most important aspect of our regimen. She would be expected to yield her baby almost immediately to us. If she had already hatched and raised a few broods, she would no doubt resist our intrusion. And the very large number of eggs in her clutch indicated a seasoned mother. Her trust and cooperation were absolutely crucial: no dragonet, no dragon rider.
Sheol grabbed up her weapon and began to tap the floor of the cavern as we walked along. The Scythe threw small clouds of sparks with each strike, and the metallic clank echoed through the caves, coming back at different times and tones from the various grottoes. She was maximizing our approach; we became a walking invitation to an attack. I nervously covered my tummy, petting it through the mythril mail; Vincent would not be happy if he could see us deliberately looking for battles.
Needn’t have worried; Sheol simply zapped the swarming insects as they approached, and I was able to sweep them into the huge sacks. She stunned and I collected, all the way to visit our girl. Not a battle at all, in fact really just grub-gathering, or was it called grubbing?
The tapping of the Scythe and the sputtering of the electricity were all we needed to herald our arrival. Esmerelda was nosing us as soon as we got close enough to touch. This time Sheol reacted with an enthusiastic coo.
"Esmé, you ready for brunch? Nice, fresh arthropods, a huge variety. And no greens!" I did not approve.
"She needs her greens; she’s our breeding hen, you know."
"But she doesn't like them as much. Hey, where's the egg?"
"Good question. Esmerelda, where's your baby?" But, no, we hadn't gotten to that point yet. She looked at me serenely, happy to have me talking to her, but didn't understand either my words or intent. I petted her head as she munched the cave vermin. Then I began to pat on her neck and down her front, hoping to make her move a little and expose the egg. She leaned into my hand, begging for more stroking, so I increased the pressure, moving down her soft, suede like breast. After a while, I was rubbing as hard as I could without taking off my own skin, and the dragon was making soft, purring sounds.
Then she abruptly lay back and rolled over, giving me her belly. I kneaded her soft underside for a while and looked over at Sheol, who was inspecting the egg casing.
"Fini. It's warm, and I think it's moving!" Her voice trembled just a little bit, as she barely contained her excitement.
"Good. I mean: Rats! Hug the darned thing."
"Huh?" While she used both hands to feel the egg, she made no move to embrace it.
"Hug it. It needs all the warmth it can get right now. I should have known why she was hiding it. It needs her now and I've lured her away, like a dumbass amateur. On the other hand, we now have some idea of how much she may trust us with her little one." By now Sheol was cuddling the egg as if it were a round child, trying to keep it warm, while I figured out how to return it to its mother.
"Esmerelda, where's your baby? Sheol's got your baby! Go get your baby." I was just jokingly pointing to Sheol and the egg, and watching the young soldier's reaction to the jest. The dragon lifted right off the floor and moved over to my companion, nuzzling her. Sheol's eyes were big and round with awe, but the big lizard never stopped her cooing sound. She wanted affection from us humans; perhaps she wanted our love more than she wanted the egg.
"Give her the egg, and make a big fuss over her." Sheol nodded, never taking her eyes off the dragon. She gamely continued the baby talk.
"Here's your baby. Take your egg, there's a good girl. What a good mommy you are, Esmé!" The dragon made a slight hissing and crowing sound in her throat, that sounded almost like a chuckle or snicker, but the same time registered absolute pleasure.
We rolled the egg back under Esmerelda, and continued to feed her cave crustaceans, stroking and petting her all the while.
I don't know enough about dragons to be sure, but it always seemed a good thing to me when she would slowly calm way down and drift into sleep. It would be interesting to see if that behavior continued after the chick was hatched.
And that could be any day, or even any hour, now.
Chocobo Wrestling
Once our girl was safely asleep atop her "baby," we quietly left the caves and returned to the ranch. The air was warm and the sky was golden, as the sun began to make its way down towards the mountain range. Nice to have a normal sky that wasn’t all lit up with Meteor! How could things have gone back to normal so soon?
The ranch hands were taking a break, sitting on or near the fence, sipping drinks and talking among themselves. I let Sheol fill them in on our progress with Esmerelda. She was becoming the maternity specialist, while most of the others were beginning to take interest in the Great Blue male. We had plenty to discuss; I wanted to get some idea of each person's talents in regard to working with breeding and tending and training.
It was all so new to all of us. I was beginning to sound repetitive, because my experience was nil and my knowledge all second hand.
“Adrianna tells me that our Blue gentleman is healing nicely, acting calm and accepting. My Grampa used to say that it was the way of the long-lived. Dragons know there is plenty of time for everything. It was the same with Nanaki, who is what we would call a Manticore, from Cosmo Canyon. He expects to live some 500 years, and plans accordingly. Even though he’s just an adolescent, many times he was wise and patient beyond his years. He almost always expected things to work out, no matter how bad they looked.” I thought about my young friend back in the Canyon. It might be a good idea to talk with him a little about the lore of his people, maybe learn something.
Then I realized I was staring past Kulloden, who was enthusiastically nodding agreement with me, her silvery blonde hair catching the sun and fairly sparkling.
“All will be well, and all will be one,” she intoned seriously, using the common, corrupted phrase. It always made me wince to hear it, but the other hands were reacting with outright scorn, as if they heard the saying once too often.
Sheol rolled her eyes, but remained silent. Desirée, for her part, spat over the fence. She was never shy with her opinions, and this time was no different.
“That’s just dumb. I never say that. It’s sounds redundant and pompous.”
Kulloden seemed disappointed, even crestfallen, then she shook her head, turned stoic, and dropped the matter. I felt compelled to try to correct the common mistake.
“You know, the real saying is ‘All will be well when all will be one.’” Of course, I sounded like a know-it-all, even though I knew what Desirée would say next. And she did, shaking her head, practically exploding.
“But that’s stupid, too! It makes even less sense than the other!”
“Well, no, Desirée. Listen for a minute. It’s a translation from an Ancient African dialect. The first all refers to the whole inorganic Planet, including the Lifestream, and the second all is usually supposed to mean people, but now I suspect it meant the entire biosphere, all life, maybe even the Lifestream, too. They are actually two different words entirely in the ancient tongue.”
“Why not people?” Desiree seemed outraged, but Kulloden nodded again. I hated to disappoint them with my ignorance.
“I don't know, I didn't craft the phrase; it just turned up again during some of Professor Hojo's research into the Ancients. But, right now I’m not so sure humans are going to outlast the Crisis of the Planet.”
Desirée took a moment to light a cigarette. After a long, obviously satisfying draw on it, she blew one perfect ring, looking thoughtful and a little smug.
“With all due respect, Ma’am, Sephiroth’s dead. The Crisis is over.”
Kulloden shook her head slowly and looked at me. I gave her a blank look, as noncommittal as I could make it. They needed to sort these things out themselves. It didn’t matter whether they fully understood or not, only that they thought about it and expanded their thinking. This could very well be the seed of the change needed to save the Planet.
But Kulloden spoke impatiently. “You’re measuring it all wrong. The Planet has tons of time compared to us. The Crisis is still affecting it and will for years. And don’t forget: Sephiroth has returned to the Lifestream. He’s not entirely gone.”
Damn. Even I hadn’t thought of that. My Grampa had contacted me while I was being rushed along in the Lifestream, going towards Meteor. There could be no doubt that he was not gone. Desirée began to walk over to the small flock--a Green and some Blues among the yellow chocobos--tossing down the cigarette and grinding it under her boot.
“Well, aren’t well all just a freaking ray of sunshine this morning?”
She whistled up the flock, and all the chocobos came running towards her, squawking and jostling, and squabbling among themselves. The fastest and largest, the only huge Green, jammed its bill into her side pack and began digging for treats. She cuffed the intruding head and swore repeatedly, ordering it to stop. The great bird paid her no mind, but kept pecking and munching greedily. Swearing and slapping wasn’t working, so Desirée grabbed two handfuls of plumage and dragged its head up to eye-level, cussing all the while. The Green paid no attention, making contented “wark-wark” sounds at her. Its cooing was barely audible over the cursing and yelling. The other birds formed a small circle around the two, watching quietly.
“That’s her pet, her Leper.” Kulloden’s calm assertion surprised me.
“Leper! What kind of name is that for a Chocobo, especially a green one? Didn‘t lepers turn white?” I was nonplussed by all the swearing and slapping. Still, a fighting bird needed to be comfortable with a certain amount of violence, so I wouldn’t think of interfering. Besides, she wasn’t having any negative effect on him at all. He seemed to enjoy it, as if she were providing some sort of sport, like an owner roughhousing with the family dog. Soon feathers and down were floating in a cloud around Desirée, as she tried to force the great Green to kowtow in the grass.
The tussle grew more violent, with the bird screeching as if it were being murdered, when suddenly Desirée began to laugh out loud, and was soon screaming at the top of her lungs. She wound up flat on her back in the grass, barely holding the chocobo at arm's length above her.
“Uncle, ya stinking buzzard! Back off!” The huge bird immediately stepped backwards and raised its head, neck fully extended, flapping its wings, and crowing like a wrestler after winning a championship. Sheol looked upwards and then back down, pretending to ignore the ruckus. She saw my confusion and smiled broadly.
“It’s short for Leprechaun, like in Ancient Ireland. They were mischievous little demons. Still are, or so I’m told.” She was chuckling, fully enjoying the noisy spectacle with the others. “Eh. You know Desirée.”
Yes, I did. At least, I was beginning to understand her better. It was the first time I'd ever witnessed a chocobo being treated as a beloved pet. I knew they were hardy critters, but this went beyond rough and ready. Battle birds must play just a hard as they work.
If you live long enough, you'll see just about everything.
But chocobo wrestling?
My first stop was to be the Blue Dragon’s recovery cave. I wanted to make the rounds quickly, and then take Sheol for a visit with Esmerelda. Time to test her reaction to our handling the unhatched egg.
It occurred to me that this morning it was my turn to leave my partner without waking him. I briefly wondered if he would miss me, and possibly even chide me for deserting him. Then I remembered his comment about not wasting hours while the other slept. Not wanting to interrupt his rest, I reached again for the pulse at his throat, in hopes of detecting any need for healing.
And nearly fainted when he suddenly took my hand and placed my palm on his face.
"Your hands are always cool in the morning, Josephine. It's as if you can't make your blood pump hard enough to warm you in the early hours." I yanked back my hand and put it on my hip.
"You did that on purpose! Think you're funny?" He nodded, smiling, pleased with his successful ruse.
"You said you wanted me here in the morning, to kiss you, and thank you, and say goodbye. You sleep very hard, Little One. I wondered if perhaps you disobeyed me." I snorted silently and shook my head.
"Vincent, being here was for after a night of love. And yes, I did try to heal you further, but the X-potion and Remedy got there first.
"I watched you sleep. You know, I never saw you sleep before. Didn't know if it was a rare privilege and a joy, or a horror." Even as I said it, the panic was welling up inside me. It was all so confusing. Was sleep a good thing for him or not? Why didn't he ever sleep otherwise?
"Josephine, thank you for curing me. While I didn't sleep very long, it is a credit to your abilities that this morning I feel more comfortable and relaxed than I have since you raised me from the coffin in the Shinra Mansion.
"And I can overlook your defiance of my orders." Each time I heard him mention disobey, or orders, I could almost feel the hackles rising on the back of my neck. He noted my reaction and smiled again. "You don't accept my authority?"
"No, I do not. Who the hell are you?" Funny how I just fell into the habit of fighting against his outdated nonsense. At that moment, I didn't even feel angry about it, just sort of amused by such quaint notions.
"The father of your child." He tried to pull me towards him, but I drew back and let out one bitter laugh.
"Pfft! So was Hojo." I wondered about that. To this very day, I do not recall how it was I escaped the laboratory, and got away from the Professor and his minions. There would have to be some explanations from Reeve Tuesti's "girls." Some day.
Vincent saw me thinking, and pulled me closer, successfully catching me off guard. He looked directly into my eyes, his own a deep maroon.
“I am the one who will protect you and our unborn child during the pregnancy. And the father who will love and instruct our child. You and our baby are not simply my passing experimental interest.
"You can at the very least accord me the civility due a friend and a lover. Keep me informed of your comings and goings, even if it's only after the fact. You have my PHS code." He kissed my lips gently and waited for my reaction. I looked deep into his eyes and spoke in the same tone, imitating his preaching.
"And you have mine. It wouldn't kill you to do the same for me." He continued smiling, uncharacteristically relaxed and happy. "Vincent, is that all you really want?"
"Maybe so. What is it you really want, Josephine?"
"Right now? To go visit my dragons. I'll take the rest of the day as it comes. Goodbye and stay safe." I kissed him just as he had kissed me and touched his cheek. It was warm; Vincent almost always felt warm, that is, when he was well and not injured. Then I left without looking back.
"It would probably be a good idea to call around noon." I muttered the words aloud, as I descended the stairs to the common rooms. I was both queasy and starving, and hoped that there was plenty of breakfast left from the troops’ mess. It would be a long day.
Ken's New Buddy
Adrianna greeted me briefly while supervising the soldiers who were feeding and healing the Great Blue. The old boy was enormous, almost twice the size of a Green. As a rule, the northern dragons are characteristically huge. North country people even call our Greens the "Lesser Lindworms." Grampa often told me that dragons are all related, even the ones that didn’t look like the rest. The differences were simple evolutionary adaptations to various habitats, the same as size and color used to be in Prehistoric times on the Ancient Planet. The great lizards would pay no more mind to color or slight morphological differences than we do ourselves. Mating was always entirely dependent on chemistry and physiology, no matter the subspecies or melanism.
The young people attending the Blue were busily coming and going. Nearby was a small, open footlocker with the crustaceans I purchased the day before, as well as other, restorative items. For his part, the great northern lindworm watched the activity calmly, seeming to take it all in stride. The burly soldier had become the primary healer and was speaking in a soothing tone as he applied Cure and Heal. The dragon related well to him; with luck, a rudimentary friendship was being forged.
The young man waved me over to the huge lizard. He stood with his back to the dragon, just as a proud collector would pose while displaying his trophy auto or motorcycle.
"Ma'am? What do you think of Buddy? He's unfazed by any of our hustle and bustle." He slapped the dragon’s side, and it turned its huge muzzle toward him, then to me.
"Eh? Named him already? I was hoping for some sort of fancy nom de guerre. You know: Cobalt, Cerulean or some such."
The young man shot back, "Fine. But we'll still call him Buddy." His miffed reaction caught me by surprise. Clearly this show was not all mine to run. Oh well, two heads are better, as they say.
"Buddy's good. Pick some sort of surname, then. His offspring will need to indicate their pedigree." He looked a bit serious for a moment, nodding a few times, and then turned away.
It occurred to me that I didn't know his name, or anything else about him, for that matter. "Hey, soldier, didn't quite catch yours, either." I stuck out my right hand. The fellow took it and bowed slightly over it, in a very courtly manner. Not a handshake; he raised my proffered hand to just below his chin, then slowly and very ceremoniously relinquished it. It all looked so Ancient World: I was itching to know more about him. He stood at attention and began to recite.
“Daiki Woods, but my family has always called me Ken. I’m from the forest lands outside Junon City.” The name sounded familiar. I responded in kind. “Josephine Lindorm. Everyone around here calls me Fini, but my family always used Josey.” Ken looked surprised, although he quickly recovered, offering an explanation.
“I’ve heard tell of a lovely lady bard, also a Josephine, who married a Lindorm who was a ranger-dragoon. They courted in the woodlands near my home. It's something of a local legend.” He spoke in a low, secret-sharing voice, but I’d already nodded. We Lindorms were well aware of their rather unconventional, somewhat naughty courtship. Their love was considered the romantic ideal of our clan.
“My Grammy and Grampa Lindorm! Was it Junon? Too bad, I’m not especially fond of the place. Shinra tortured me there." Then I remembered the possible connection.
“Hey, did you ever meet an Elite named Jim Ryu?”
“My mother's eldest brother. He went missing in action during Sapphire Weapon’s attack on Junon a few months back. Only just recently resurfaced. He refuses to talk about it. Did Uncle Jim romance you, too?” Was the young fellow leering?
“Certainly not! He helped me escape and return to my comrades. A good guy. A fine man, concerned only for his family. He wanted to do the right thing, you know. He mentioned your mother and his wife. No one was to know his whereabouts until after the conflict was resolved. We tried to keep him apart from our activities, under the Shinra radar, as it were.” Did everyone take it for granted that I was some sort of chippie? Mum was a bit of a flirt, but I had hoped that the image I projected was somewhat more sober than that.
Ken looked contrite and quickly said, “Forgive me. Uncle Jim was quite a blade in his young days. He still talks a good game. You have my solemn word: he never said anything about rescuing you.”
“Humph. Don’t know that I’d say he rescued me. We sort of left for safety together. Vincent Valentine ultimately lifted us both to the airship.” Geez, let’s not start any sort of rumors. Jim was so worried about his family learning anything. If he was a ladies' man, it didn’t figure in our flight from Junon.
Seemed to me that any person who managed to survive to maturity had some sort of peccadillo that would haunt them to the end of their days. It just never occurred to me to ever consider Jim a flirt. He was just a gentleman, a knight of the Old Order.
My musings were interrupted by Sheol, who was frantically signaling for my attention. She looked like a small padre among the soldiers, at least until one noticed the pretty face behind the oversized spectacles.
“Hey, kid, where’s the Grim Reaper's Scythe?” Just had to have my little dig. Sheol rolled her eyes at the reference. “Back at the entrance to this chamber. We don’t need it near the dragons. Besides, we were harvesting the cave insects, and it was too jazzed to carry around for a while.” What a concept! My arrows were usually dripping with gore, but never too warm to recover after battle.
“How’s that going? Will we have enough to continuously feed our friends?” That was the first time I thought about the actual day-to-day maintenance of the dragons. Wouldn't they just feed themselves once they regained a modicum of independence? And the hills must be full of the vermin that sustain the local great lizards.
“Sure. The bugs just swarm over anything that moves or even lies dead. Nasty, disgusting things. I hate to have to touch them, especially to shove them in a sack for feeding.” Her obvious distaste made me wonder if she would forgo looting the corpse of a relinquished enemy. What a waste that would be. I was then struck by how coarse my thinking had become over the months!
“It’s only temporary. Shortly, we’ll encourage both dragons to range around. We can’t hold them captive; service has to be voluntary. It wouldn’t be right to drag them captive into battle.
"You have any left for Esmerelda? Don't forget our girl. She's still brooding, and may not be properly caring for herself.” But Sheol had already taken charge of things; she had a better idea.
"No, Fini. We're going to gather fresh ones for our great big mommy. She deserves the best." Ahah. Looked like the Reaper had bought into our project. I hoped we would be rewarded with a tiny dragonet soon. The kids probably would not understand how long this breeding experiment would take. Dragons do not count time the same as humans. We would have a baby that might not be trainable for years.
Ken then caught my eye, bowed deeply and begged to be given leave to return to his own work. I nodded. Some of these young men were cultivating the habits of the Ancient Orders, almost as much monks as warriors. And I approve heartily of the Disciplines; everyone should learn to relate to others on many different planes, and to contain their impulses, according to the situation.
I am still working on that latter one.
Playing with the Baby
On our way out of the Blue Dragon's chamber, I turned to Sheol, inviting her to lead the way. We would have to work together to collect enough to feed Esmerelda. Her contentment was the most important aspect of our regimen. She would be expected to yield her baby almost immediately to us. If she had already hatched and raised a few broods, she would no doubt resist our intrusion. And the very large number of eggs in her clutch indicated a seasoned mother. Her trust and cooperation were absolutely crucial: no dragonet, no dragon rider.
Sheol grabbed up her weapon and began to tap the floor of the cavern as we walked along. The Scythe threw small clouds of sparks with each strike, and the metallic clank echoed through the caves, coming back at different times and tones from the various grottoes. She was maximizing our approach; we became a walking invitation to an attack. I nervously covered my tummy, petting it through the mythril mail; Vincent would not be happy if he could see us deliberately looking for battles.
Needn’t have worried; Sheol simply zapped the swarming insects as they approached, and I was able to sweep them into the huge sacks. She stunned and I collected, all the way to visit our girl. Not a battle at all, in fact really just grub-gathering, or was it called grubbing?
The tapping of the Scythe and the sputtering of the electricity were all we needed to herald our arrival. Esmerelda was nosing us as soon as we got close enough to touch. This time Sheol reacted with an enthusiastic coo.
"Esmé, you ready for brunch? Nice, fresh arthropods, a huge variety. And no greens!" I did not approve.
"She needs her greens; she’s our breeding hen, you know."
"But she doesn't like them as much. Hey, where's the egg?"
"Good question. Esmerelda, where's your baby?" But, no, we hadn't gotten to that point yet. She looked at me serenely, happy to have me talking to her, but didn't understand either my words or intent. I petted her head as she munched the cave vermin. Then I began to pat on her neck and down her front, hoping to make her move a little and expose the egg. She leaned into my hand, begging for more stroking, so I increased the pressure, moving down her soft, suede like breast. After a while, I was rubbing as hard as I could without taking off my own skin, and the dragon was making soft, purring sounds.
Then she abruptly lay back and rolled over, giving me her belly. I kneaded her soft underside for a while and looked over at Sheol, who was inspecting the egg casing.
"Fini. It's warm, and I think it's moving!" Her voice trembled just a little bit, as she barely contained her excitement.
"Good. I mean: Rats! Hug the darned thing."
"Huh?" While she used both hands to feel the egg, she made no move to embrace it.
"Hug it. It needs all the warmth it can get right now. I should have known why she was hiding it. It needs her now and I've lured her away, like a dumbass amateur. On the other hand, we now have some idea of how much she may trust us with her little one." By now Sheol was cuddling the egg as if it were a round child, trying to keep it warm, while I figured out how to return it to its mother.
"Esmerelda, where's your baby? Sheol's got your baby! Go get your baby." I was just jokingly pointing to Sheol and the egg, and watching the young soldier's reaction to the jest. The dragon lifted right off the floor and moved over to my companion, nuzzling her. Sheol's eyes were big and round with awe, but the big lizard never stopped her cooing sound. She wanted affection from us humans; perhaps she wanted our love more than she wanted the egg.
"Give her the egg, and make a big fuss over her." Sheol nodded, never taking her eyes off the dragon. She gamely continued the baby talk.
"Here's your baby. Take your egg, there's a good girl. What a good mommy you are, Esmé!" The dragon made a slight hissing and crowing sound in her throat, that sounded almost like a chuckle or snicker, but the same time registered absolute pleasure.
We rolled the egg back under Esmerelda, and continued to feed her cave crustaceans, stroking and petting her all the while.
I don't know enough about dragons to be sure, but it always seemed a good thing to me when she would slowly calm way down and drift into sleep. It would be interesting to see if that behavior continued after the chick was hatched.
And that could be any day, or even any hour, now.
Chocobo Wrestling
Once our girl was safely asleep atop her "baby," we quietly left the caves and returned to the ranch. The air was warm and the sky was golden, as the sun began to make its way down towards the mountain range. Nice to have a normal sky that wasn’t all lit up with Meteor! How could things have gone back to normal so soon?
The ranch hands were taking a break, sitting on or near the fence, sipping drinks and talking among themselves. I let Sheol fill them in on our progress with Esmerelda. She was becoming the maternity specialist, while most of the others were beginning to take interest in the Great Blue male. We had plenty to discuss; I wanted to get some idea of each person's talents in regard to working with breeding and tending and training.
It was all so new to all of us. I was beginning to sound repetitive, because my experience was nil and my knowledge all second hand.
“Adrianna tells me that our Blue gentleman is healing nicely, acting calm and accepting. My Grampa used to say that it was the way of the long-lived. Dragons know there is plenty of time for everything. It was the same with Nanaki, who is what we would call a Manticore, from Cosmo Canyon. He expects to live some 500 years, and plans accordingly. Even though he’s just an adolescent, many times he was wise and patient beyond his years. He almost always expected things to work out, no matter how bad they looked.” I thought about my young friend back in the Canyon. It might be a good idea to talk with him a little about the lore of his people, maybe learn something.
Then I realized I was staring past Kulloden, who was enthusiastically nodding agreement with me, her silvery blonde hair catching the sun and fairly sparkling.
“All will be well, and all will be one,” she intoned seriously, using the common, corrupted phrase. It always made me wince to hear it, but the other hands were reacting with outright scorn, as if they heard the saying once too often.
Sheol rolled her eyes, but remained silent. Desirée, for her part, spat over the fence. She was never shy with her opinions, and this time was no different.
“That’s just dumb. I never say that. It’s sounds redundant and pompous.”
Kulloden seemed disappointed, even crestfallen, then she shook her head, turned stoic, and dropped the matter. I felt compelled to try to correct the common mistake.
“You know, the real saying is ‘All will be well when all will be one.’” Of course, I sounded like a know-it-all, even though I knew what Desirée would say next. And she did, shaking her head, practically exploding.
“But that’s stupid, too! It makes even less sense than the other!”
“Well, no, Desirée. Listen for a minute. It’s a translation from an Ancient African dialect. The first all refers to the whole inorganic Planet, including the Lifestream, and the second all is usually supposed to mean people, but now I suspect it meant the entire biosphere, all life, maybe even the Lifestream, too. They are actually two different words entirely in the ancient tongue.”
“Why not people?” Desiree seemed outraged, but Kulloden nodded again. I hated to disappoint them with my ignorance.
“I don't know, I didn't craft the phrase; it just turned up again during some of Professor Hojo's research into the Ancients. But, right now I’m not so sure humans are going to outlast the Crisis of the Planet.”
Desirée took a moment to light a cigarette. After a long, obviously satisfying draw on it, she blew one perfect ring, looking thoughtful and a little smug.
“With all due respect, Ma’am, Sephiroth’s dead. The Crisis is over.”
Kulloden shook her head slowly and looked at me. I gave her a blank look, as noncommittal as I could make it. They needed to sort these things out themselves. It didn’t matter whether they fully understood or not, only that they thought about it and expanded their thinking. This could very well be the seed of the change needed to save the Planet.
But Kulloden spoke impatiently. “You’re measuring it all wrong. The Planet has tons of time compared to us. The Crisis is still affecting it and will for years. And don’t forget: Sephiroth has returned to the Lifestream. He’s not entirely gone.”
Damn. Even I hadn’t thought of that. My Grampa had contacted me while I was being rushed along in the Lifestream, going towards Meteor. There could be no doubt that he was not gone. Desirée began to walk over to the small flock--a Green and some Blues among the yellow chocobos--tossing down the cigarette and grinding it under her boot.
“Well, aren’t well all just a freaking ray of sunshine this morning?”
She whistled up the flock, and all the chocobos came running towards her, squawking and jostling, and squabbling among themselves. The fastest and largest, the only huge Green, jammed its bill into her side pack and began digging for treats. She cuffed the intruding head and swore repeatedly, ordering it to stop. The great bird paid her no mind, but kept pecking and munching greedily. Swearing and slapping wasn’t working, so Desirée grabbed two handfuls of plumage and dragged its head up to eye-level, cussing all the while. The Green paid no attention, making contented “wark-wark” sounds at her. Its cooing was barely audible over the cursing and yelling. The other birds formed a small circle around the two, watching quietly.
“That’s her pet, her Leper.” Kulloden’s calm assertion surprised me.
“Leper! What kind of name is that for a Chocobo, especially a green one? Didn‘t lepers turn white?” I was nonplussed by all the swearing and slapping. Still, a fighting bird needed to be comfortable with a certain amount of violence, so I wouldn’t think of interfering. Besides, she wasn’t having any negative effect on him at all. He seemed to enjoy it, as if she were providing some sort of sport, like an owner roughhousing with the family dog. Soon feathers and down were floating in a cloud around Desirée, as she tried to force the great Green to kowtow in the grass.
The tussle grew more violent, with the bird screeching as if it were being murdered, when suddenly Desirée began to laugh out loud, and was soon screaming at the top of her lungs. She wound up flat on her back in the grass, barely holding the chocobo at arm's length above her.
“Uncle, ya stinking buzzard! Back off!” The huge bird immediately stepped backwards and raised its head, neck fully extended, flapping its wings, and crowing like a wrestler after winning a championship. Sheol looked upwards and then back down, pretending to ignore the ruckus. She saw my confusion and smiled broadly.
“It’s short for Leprechaun, like in Ancient Ireland. They were mischievous little demons. Still are, or so I’m told.” She was chuckling, fully enjoying the noisy spectacle with the others. “Eh. You know Desirée.”
Yes, I did. At least, I was beginning to understand her better. It was the first time I'd ever witnessed a chocobo being treated as a beloved pet. I knew they were hardy critters, but this went beyond rough and ready. Battle birds must play just a hard as they work.
If you live long enough, you'll see just about everything.
But chocobo wrestling?
Gathering Resources
Update on Vincent
As I left, the girls were discussing their different approaches to training chocobos. Desirée insisted the bird needed to be rough and tumble, a real scrapper, while Kulloden wanted her steed to participate in her quest for silence and peace. Sheol hadn't considered riding chocobo while carrying her highly reactive Scythe; she thought of herself as a foot soldier. Some of their concerns could be answered by riding dragons, instead. The presence of armor-like scales instead of feathers, for instance, would mean that Sheol’s worries about the sparking Scythe would be resolved.
All of them would need to adjust their mindsets. The sheer size and magical capabilities of even the smaller dragonets allowed lots of room for varying temperaments. Still, the rider would need to be the leader and nurturer and friend, all at the same time. Dragons have historically followed through on their riders' impulses, striking or withholding as his mood changed. Grampa Lindorm told me once that his charger was an extension of his own personality. By the time he married Grammy, he'd been with his steed much longer than he'd ever been with any lady. Grammy said that for a long while she was irritated at playing second fiddle to the charger. Her husband would visit with his dragon first thing every morning and last thing each evening. He mourned for years after its death in battle, and never rode another, and would not even consider riding a chocobo.
In the same vein, he never remarried, mourning our Grammy to his death. Must have been part of his makeup, what made him both a dragoon and the bard's mate. I had never thought about it before; Grampa was just Grampa. Except for his family, his dragon, and hunting, life held no other pleasures. He simply retired from the world after fighting in the early technological wars. We got the very best of him every visit, and he stopped by often. Didn't care for the company of other people, especially of the female persuasion. While he adored my Mum and us girls, never saw him show the slightest interest in women in general.
My parents, too, seemed mated for life, and had married before my mother even reached majority. My Dad was her friend, her lover and her sparring partner. They were miserable when apart, even after the worst of arguments. Our childhoods witnessed the violent storms and the somewhat turbulent lulls, each following one another as surely as the seasons.
Well, this kid was already breaking that cycle. My husband and I rarely ever fought, although he accused me of being born to argue, willing to battle out any problem. Not quite going for broke, but usually teetering on the brink. Sound familiar?
And now, we were irrevocably separated, by Shinra and life's circumstances. I still mourned the loss, taking my solace from the sure knowledge that he was at least alive and well, and that our girls would reconcile to me, someday.
In the midst of these musings, I had been walking through the ranch, paying little attention to the activity around me. So I literally levitated when my name was spoken directly behind my ear. The familiar voice was easily recognizable among all the young peoples' chatter. I rapped lightly on the top of my accoster's head with my knuckles, and growled.
"Nora, don't do that. Want to give me a heart attack?" She slapped back at my hand, then grabbed it to drag me back to earth, her eyes sparkling with mirth.
"I might ask the same of you. You always shoot straight up in the air when addressed?" Nora was trying unsuccessfully to stifle her laughter, smiling up at me with good humor. She was being cute, apparently having been apprised of my repertory of tricks.
"You did that on purpose, you witch. I'm nervous enough already without you deliberately triggering my defenses. Now it'll take a few minutes to settle down again.
"So, Lady, what do you need?"
"What makes you think I want something?" She cocked an eye, watching me slowly sink back to normal. Otherwise, she seemed reluctant to face me.
"Come on, Nora. I'll bet you came looking for me. It's obvious the kids run this ranch for you. They are busily wasting their break right now, discussing the merits of the various ways of training the birds to their riders.
"You must want something." I tried not to sound accusatory, but frankly, I suspected a new conspiracy.
"Well, I just came from the clinic. Vince stopped by on orders from Matthew. He told me to pass the prognosis on to you. He's on border patrol with my brother and Hildy. They need to reconnoiter and remedy the breech in our defenses that allowed the Great Blue Dragon to surprise that morning’s watch."
"Well?"
"He's fine. Better than before. Fini, I want you to know that Matthew and I did not approve of his decision to wait overnight for you to heal him."
"Ahah! Thought so." That was such an easy call, Vincent should have been ashamed of himself. Then again, he was hurting and he wanted me to stay with him.
"If you don't mind my asking—and you don't have to answer—what's your relationship to him, anyway?" Her answer was automatic.
"Matthew and I are just good friends. We've worked together for decades, and attended many of the same classes in medical school." Her deliberate coyness annoyed me.
"Eleanora Randolph, you know what I'm asking. What's Vincent to you now that he's back from the dead?" Hated to be so direct, but she was dodging the obvious question.
"Again, Fini? Do I have to spell it out?" She looked completely exasperated with me, and not in the proper mood for the conversation she herself had initiated. Perplexed, I nodded, trying not to say anything else that would make me look either jealous or stupid. I really wanted to know what she thought, and where I would fit in her relationship with the father of our kids. But I didn't want to influence her answer. She had her own ways, and they were a mystery to me: let her explain herself, if she was willing.
Nora stepped away from me and drew out a pack of cigarettes. After switching positions with me so that the smoke wouldn't blow into my face, she lit one and enjoyed it for a few minutes. We stood facing the afternoon sun in silence until she was done.
Without looking at me, she spoke in a monotone. Her tale was obviously rehearsed, as if it were fully composed and memorized.
Nora's Narrative
"Vince was my big brother's friend. I was the kid sister who wasn't allowed to hang out with them. And, at my age, I was in no position to argue: the late-life child, the accident, the surprise. My parents were just settling into middle age,
and it had been nearly a decade since Walter's birth. Still, my brother adored me; when he was home he treated me as his special little buddy, including me in all his activity.
"You can imagine my jealousy towards those in his new circle. The older we got, the more he was away, the more I missed him. I wanted to be with him wherever he went, but the age difference prevented it, and kept me home with my parents. Because they were nearly retired, Mom and Dad couldn't provide the exercise, both mental and physical, to keep me occupied and happy. My life was lonely and boring. As soon as I could, I applied to medical school, just to get out of the house, to have a life elsewhere.
"Walter made things worse when he met and courted Hildegard Johan. Then it was impossible to even pretend I was his special girl. I was growing up, and knew only too well that it was inappropriate for me to expect his undivided attention. Life itself had betrayed me, leaving me powerless to object. So I accepted it and tried to swallow the pain, spending my teenage years yearning for the lives they were living without me.
"When I was old enough to attract them, I couldn't tolerate the attentions of any man. None ever seemed like much of a prize, until Vincent began to show interest in me.
"That was my chance to re-insinuate myself into my brother's life. Vincent was courtly and patient, attracted to the things in me that related to his friend. We had Walter in common; that was enough to bind us together.
"Medical school was therapeutic. I redirected my frustrations into my studies and competed easily with the others. Matthew Johan was a constant classmate during that time, and he came to know Walter well, both through me and his older sister. So it turned out that I was back in with my brother, after all.
"I was a happier person than I'd ever been before. It seemed like a good time to settle down and make a home and a life. Vince was always there for me, even though I'd been too young for romance, in his opinion, that is: I know that because he told me. He could sense my sexual detachment. But still, back then I thought I knew differently.
"Walter and Hildy were the leaders. It was difficult to keep up with them and their projects. Vincent began to plan the Fruitlands with them, while at the same time making inroads with Shinra.
"Deep down, I cringed at every small change in our world; I was afraid of losing all of them. Matthew knew me well enough to caution against creating a false relationship with men. He knew, even when I didn't. I actively pursued Vincent, to achieve my aims. For his part, Vince said it was only natural that we should be together, all of us, as friends and family.
"So it was with his full cooperation that I had my little fantasy. Lured him into my web, so to speak. In no time, I was expecting our son. We had such a huge network in the area, it supported us as a couple and a family. I worked with Matthew in his clinic, and Vince worked with Shinra. My brother and Hildy began to build the winery and orchards, with the militia on the side at all times.
"Our baby adored his father, and Vince was attentive to us both. We were happy enough, with our family and circle of friends, but it became clear that Matthew was right all along. I just didn't really know for a fact at first, and Vince thought the whole thing was some fancy of mine, a normal development that I would eventually outgrow. I was still very young, and he was willing to be patient.
"As you can imagine, in couple of years we drifted apart. Our marriage was over. He then became more involved with the Company and began to show more interest in the people at work, while I became more absorbed with raising Victor. We never really worked it out, just arrived at a mutual agreement not to deal with it publicly, remaining part of the larger circle of our family and friends.
"One day, he simply did not return to us. Shinra did not offer a satisfactory explanation. He was missing in action, as so many were. There was no real war, not anymore, just a lot of mysterious disappearances, similar to yours.
"Walter and Hildy and Matthew filled in for Vincent. The whole concept of the communal nursery and creche began with Victor, other children coming in a slow progression. It worked extremely well with the unofficial militia growing around it, too.
"So we've always had plenty of children to love, in an ever-increasing circle of friends and colleagues. Even though Walter and Hildy were childless, they were the pater- and materfamilias. The creche has been continuously in operation for over two decades, fostering dozens of kids already. With everyone's support, it will probably raise many more in the future, especially during these uncertain post-Shinra times.
"There were lots of goings-on that remained secret with Shinra, Inc. We were used to it by the time Sephiroth burned the town. Our people rushed in to stop him, but finally had to fall back. When it was clear that his insane rage was just too much, we retreated with plenty of casualties among our ranks; he was too strong, too magically powerful for our people to fight successfully. And Shinra itself was caught unawares; the madman was actually sent here to serve us! To help clear away the monsters that were coming from in the mountains, or so they said. Vincent says that the company had to have known about the side effects of the Jenova project.
"We went completely underground, to rebuild our defenses and numbers. Then Shinra reconstructed the town, filling it with their own workers, all a bunch of ignorant jerks. Never did they even consult us, or try to recruit local labor, in an attempt to hide the whole incident. As if it never occurred! They nearly succeeded outside of Nibel.
"Your group, Avalanche, was the first to pierce Shinra’s protective armor. And the first to successfully enter the Company Mansion and leave it alive.
"And you returned Vincent to us. The ghost from the past, all the more mysterious because he hadn't aged." Nora stopped, sighing a deep cleansing breath that lasted almost a half-minute. Afterwards, she looked spent and resigned.
Getting it Sorted Out
"Nora, didn't he scare the living daylights out of you? He was quite a sight when we found him, just a huge mass of matted hair, overgrown fingernails, and rotting, tattered clothes. He did tell me the next day that he shaved and groomed it all away before visiting his family. He looked so handsome and heroic in the local uniform, I didn't recognize him."
"Yes, it was a shock to the family, too. He visited each of us separately, saving me for last. We were reunited, and I cried like a baby. Vincent was the same age as before, but he was changed, completely and sadly changed. All his emotions were gone. He had always been awkward expressing his feelings, but this was a curious lack of affect. Still, we were together again, and began to restructure our lives to include him. Vincent concentrated on his son and the grandchildren, and I have been very happy with that. Subsequent visits were the same, with no emotional change, until he mentioned you." Nora smiled—bravely, I thought—and patted my hand. She was indicating Vincent's Damascene ring. The touch made me feel impatient with her; I wanted definitive answers, not hints to a puzzle.
"So I'm the reason you can't be together? Why didn't you simply take up where you left off? We are about the same age, the same type of backgrounds, from what I can see. Surely, I must be some sort of substitute for you, don't you think? And aren't you glad to have him back?"
At this point, Eleanora Randolph Valentine, Vincent's first wife, took me by the hands and looked into my face, grinning broadly, almost comically. She was laughing, or at least unsuccessfully trying to stifle it, and shaking her head.
"Oh, Fini, are you blind? We have picked up where we left off! He and I will always be Victor's parents who love each other. We are all together again, only this time you have joined us. Haven't you?" The last question was practically a plea. I could feel myself cringe, at the same time totally bewildered.
"What the hell are you asking of me? Can we both be Vincent's girls?" All I could think of was Reeve and his weird setup. Were we going to share a husband?
Unable to contain herself, Nora was chortling at first, but then quickly wound down to chuckling affectionately. She was so happy about it, not a mean bone in her body, and so finally I was fully listening. I really wanted to know. At that moment, against all my previous inclinations, I wanted to be friends, to be a part of their circle. She was somehow insisting that I already was.
"Fini, you dope. You dummy. Can't you tell that I'm not interested in men? We are all just family. I thought Vincent would never forgive me for tricking him. But it wasn't on purpose: I didn't realize that I just wanted to keep him with me. Along with Matthew and Walter and Hildy, I needed my own close-knit group again. Only Matthew understood what he was seeing in me. His medical and psychiatric training nailed my sexuality long before I could realize it myself. The rest of us were just too close, too much in love with our little family circle.
"Vincent is very handsome, and our son got the best of his genes. But my ex-husband really needs a wife: a woman who is in love with him, that he can cherish and protect, as they say. We are hoping you are she." I let her hold me only because I was nearly falling down from the shock, the relief and even the disbelief I felt after hearing her story.
All the threads tied together, but not neatly. Vincent must have been very badly hurt, all those years ago. It was clear that Nora was the one who left him on the rebound for Lucrecia Crescent, to be lured deep into the Shinra hellhole, where he lay, suffering the throes of the damned, for thirty long years.
For the first time since I arrived, I relaxed and hugged someone wholeheartedly. We really could share Vincent, and everyone else in her circle. It was the definitive beginning of our friendship.
And ended any possibility of a marriage contract with Vincent, before any could begin. Or, rather, any real urgency. Our love tokens, the Damascene bands, could remain where they were, at least for the present. Our somewhat separate lifestyles could work for us, after all. He needed more time to heal and I needed to live my own life for a while. We would have to learn how to cherish and protect each other equally.
It seemed like a daunting project for the both of us.
Working the PHS
Nora Randolph walked me back to the base, and we ate our dinners together. It was the first of many leisurely meals, where we would sort out recent projects and occurrences, and how they would relate to the family and Fruitlands. For the first time in my life, I had a friend who shared simple conversation with me. Our closeness in age and station in life were unprecedented in my experience. Usually I was the Mommy, or the wife whose job was secondary to that of my husband. Whether with homemakers or corporate women, this usually left me the outsider.
On base and at the ranch I was accepted as a coordinator, the main strategist for breeding and incorporating dragons into the militia. My rank made it mandatory that people would defer to my judgment, and I had to be very insistent just to get their input and opinions. This worked especially well with the younger soldiers, who were only too happy to obey. With the Randolphs and the Valentines, well, we were family and shared the way families do or sometimes don't. On and off, as the mood took each person, and now there were lots who considered themselves my family.
I began to look forward to meals on base, while I quietly leased a room, more or less permanently, at the inn. Nothing of value or strategic importance was kept where the prying hotelier could spy; he always made me feel a little uncomfortable. Yet, when I wanted time alone, I could move there for the day, making calls and watching files and perusing the Network. It would prove an invaluable resource, allowing me personal privacy and time away from the regimented life on base. And the demands of a very close-knit family.
Later that day, after eating with Nora, I repaired to the inn, and began making calls. ChocoBilly's Chocobo Ranch was the first on my list.
By the time we fought Sephiroth in the North Crater, we'd already raised three Gold chocobos. It took millions of gil and lots of concentrated man hours. For many weeks I had to run back and forth between the ranch and our group, and I wasn't working alone. All of us were required to stop in frequently to bring in new stock, release the poorer quality birds, train the better ones for racing, and prep the best for mating. Those birds were needed for the overseas travel, and were well worth the cost and trouble.
On the other hand, to my way of thinking, the most useful bird of all is the Black chocobo. My sweet Ebony could run all over most of the Planet without ever losing energy. She was the mother of our first Gold. Golds are great for crossing the oceans, but they are hyper, extremely so, and we usually kept them for long distance travel. They are the only ocean-going, air breathing creature alive.
Note that I said "alive." Some Weapons were apparently capable of moving over land, others were able to live underwater, while a few could fly. I still get a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, remembering the Weapons. Let's hope there are no more to awaken, ready to clean our clocks, and wipe us off the face of the Planet.
ChocoBilly was not happy to hear from me. He knew I wanted the birds. The Golds, well advertised and prominently displayed, were a draw for new business. With Shinra out of commission, there was a growing need for animal transportation, as Mako-powered vehicles were suddenly no longer being manufactured. It would be a while before anything was mass-produced again.
"Billy, I'm not stealing your business; the birds are ours, remember? You simply rent out the stables and provide the feed." Got the feeling he would have been much happier if we were all killed, leaving him with the stock.
"No Ma'am, I haven't forgotten. And I'm hurt you'd suggest that I would accuse you of anything. Still, you've left these birds in our care, and we've become attached to them. It's going to kill me to let them go." That was more like it; he was looking for incentive, his signal that we could talk.
"And I understand that. What stock are you carrying now? Maybe we can take some of the extra off your hands. For a price, of course." The PHS went silent, and I could smell the wood burning and hear the gears cranking in his head.
"Weeeell, you know I'd like at least one Gold here. They are my favorite."
"No doubt. The only ones on the Planet right now. Trust me, Billy, we are starting a breeding program for battle birds. You will have a built-in job supplying stock and feed. We could probably use the nuts and greens. They gather local feed and insects, but nothing approaching the quality you provide. I'm sure we can work out something to your liking." By then, he had recovered his good humor, and was ready to dicker.
"Okay. Here's the deal: you take no more than three of our top birds, and I'll throw in three of the better yellows free. Sound good? And what do you think they'll want for nuts and feed?" His offer was exactly as I expected. Here came the hard part. My counter offer would probably sting a bit.
"All right buddy, I've got a proposition for you. You dig up the Sylkis greens, and we'll pay you to supply them in batches of 99. Return Glitter to me, Ebony and WonderBoy, and keep the rest in reserve. We don't owe you anything in arrears, right?"
"Ouch! My three best! I love those birds, Fini..." But I wasn't having any of it.
"Our birds, Billy. You still have Sparkle and Gilda, the mated pair. Also ours. The deal was that you could keep any unnamed, unexpected birds or any other color. Any more luck with our Golds?"
"Chick on the way. Aurelia if it's female and Spangle for a male, as I remember. What about the Greens and Blues? We've got a good number; many are already racing. Can you give me a lead?"
"I'll check with Eleanora Randolph. She may want one of the Greens, although they are raising their own. Meantime, contact Cloud or Tifa at the Seventh Heaven in Midgar's Sector 7. They were the only ones interested besides Cid and me. Maybe someone from Chocobo Square. Heard anything from Yuffie?"
"Wutai took a pair of Blacks. Bought and paid for, no less. These last few months have been very good: even left you guys with a tidy credit. Yuffie came for them herself, as a present for Lord Godor. Hey, how shall I transport your birds to Nibelheim?"
"Call Cid in Rocket Town. He'll have something. You should touch base with him before you do anything with the racers, anyway. Otherwise, we can arrange a ship from Junon. Only if he's all tied up, though. You need me to come by?"
"No Ma'am. I'll travel with the Gold myself. What have they got in Nibel?"
"Best bird I've seen so far is an enormous Green. But they're all battle birds, Billy. They don't much race them.” Then I remembered Desirée and Leprechaun.
“Hey, Billy, how about Chocobo wrestling? With the larger birds, it looks like wicked fun. Talk to your Grampa about the gaming possibilities. Then call Nora's Pride; that's the name of the ranch. You’ve got to see this in person. I'll tell Nora to watch for you: you can maybe do some business together. Bye now: give my best to Gramps and Chole."
Billy never said goodbye when he disconnected: a personal superstition. He didn't want to jinx a business relationship, so he never signed off on a customer.
Sounded like a deal to me. Everything was a business deal with Billy.
All of them would need to adjust their mindsets. The sheer size and magical capabilities of even the smaller dragonets allowed lots of room for varying temperaments. Still, the rider would need to be the leader and nurturer and friend, all at the same time. Dragons have historically followed through on their riders' impulses, striking or withholding as his mood changed. Grampa Lindorm told me once that his charger was an extension of his own personality. By the time he married Grammy, he'd been with his steed much longer than he'd ever been with any lady. Grammy said that for a long while she was irritated at playing second fiddle to the charger. Her husband would visit with his dragon first thing every morning and last thing each evening. He mourned for years after its death in battle, and never rode another, and would not even consider riding a chocobo.
In the same vein, he never remarried, mourning our Grammy to his death. Must have been part of his makeup, what made him both a dragoon and the bard's mate. I had never thought about it before; Grampa was just Grampa. Except for his family, his dragon, and hunting, life held no other pleasures. He simply retired from the world after fighting in the early technological wars. We got the very best of him every visit, and he stopped by often. Didn't care for the company of other people, especially of the female persuasion. While he adored my Mum and us girls, never saw him show the slightest interest in women in general.
My parents, too, seemed mated for life, and had married before my mother even reached majority. My Dad was her friend, her lover and her sparring partner. They were miserable when apart, even after the worst of arguments. Our childhoods witnessed the violent storms and the somewhat turbulent lulls, each following one another as surely as the seasons.
Well, this kid was already breaking that cycle. My husband and I rarely ever fought, although he accused me of being born to argue, willing to battle out any problem. Not quite going for broke, but usually teetering on the brink. Sound familiar?
And now, we were irrevocably separated, by Shinra and life's circumstances. I still mourned the loss, taking my solace from the sure knowledge that he was at least alive and well, and that our girls would reconcile to me, someday.
In the midst of these musings, I had been walking through the ranch, paying little attention to the activity around me. So I literally levitated when my name was spoken directly behind my ear. The familiar voice was easily recognizable among all the young peoples' chatter. I rapped lightly on the top of my accoster's head with my knuckles, and growled.
"Nora, don't do that. Want to give me a heart attack?" She slapped back at my hand, then grabbed it to drag me back to earth, her eyes sparkling with mirth.
"I might ask the same of you. You always shoot straight up in the air when addressed?" Nora was trying unsuccessfully to stifle her laughter, smiling up at me with good humor. She was being cute, apparently having been apprised of my repertory of tricks.
"You did that on purpose, you witch. I'm nervous enough already without you deliberately triggering my defenses. Now it'll take a few minutes to settle down again.
"So, Lady, what do you need?"
"What makes you think I want something?" She cocked an eye, watching me slowly sink back to normal. Otherwise, she seemed reluctant to face me.
"Come on, Nora. I'll bet you came looking for me. It's obvious the kids run this ranch for you. They are busily wasting their break right now, discussing the merits of the various ways of training the birds to their riders.
"You must want something." I tried not to sound accusatory, but frankly, I suspected a new conspiracy.
"Well, I just came from the clinic. Vince stopped by on orders from Matthew. He told me to pass the prognosis on to you. He's on border patrol with my brother and Hildy. They need to reconnoiter and remedy the breech in our defenses that allowed the Great Blue Dragon to surprise that morning’s watch."
"Well?"
"He's fine. Better than before. Fini, I want you to know that Matthew and I did not approve of his decision to wait overnight for you to heal him."
"Ahah! Thought so." That was such an easy call, Vincent should have been ashamed of himself. Then again, he was hurting and he wanted me to stay with him.
"If you don't mind my asking—and you don't have to answer—what's your relationship to him, anyway?" Her answer was automatic.
"Matthew and I are just good friends. We've worked together for decades, and attended many of the same classes in medical school." Her deliberate coyness annoyed me.
"Eleanora Randolph, you know what I'm asking. What's Vincent to you now that he's back from the dead?" Hated to be so direct, but she was dodging the obvious question.
"Again, Fini? Do I have to spell it out?" She looked completely exasperated with me, and not in the proper mood for the conversation she herself had initiated. Perplexed, I nodded, trying not to say anything else that would make me look either jealous or stupid. I really wanted to know what she thought, and where I would fit in her relationship with the father of our kids. But I didn't want to influence her answer. She had her own ways, and they were a mystery to me: let her explain herself, if she was willing.
Nora stepped away from me and drew out a pack of cigarettes. After switching positions with me so that the smoke wouldn't blow into my face, she lit one and enjoyed it for a few minutes. We stood facing the afternoon sun in silence until she was done.
Without looking at me, she spoke in a monotone. Her tale was obviously rehearsed, as if it were fully composed and memorized.
Nora's Narrative
"Vince was my big brother's friend. I was the kid sister who wasn't allowed to hang out with them. And, at my age, I was in no position to argue: the late-life child, the accident, the surprise. My parents were just settling into middle age,
and it had been nearly a decade since Walter's birth. Still, my brother adored me; when he was home he treated me as his special little buddy, including me in all his activity."You can imagine my jealousy towards those in his new circle. The older we got, the more he was away, the more I missed him. I wanted to be with him wherever he went, but the age difference prevented it, and kept me home with my parents. Because they were nearly retired, Mom and Dad couldn't provide the exercise, both mental and physical, to keep me occupied and happy. My life was lonely and boring. As soon as I could, I applied to medical school, just to get out of the house, to have a life elsewhere.
"Walter made things worse when he met and courted Hildegard Johan. Then it was impossible to even pretend I was his special girl. I was growing up, and knew only too well that it was inappropriate for me to expect his undivided attention. Life itself had betrayed me, leaving me powerless to object. So I accepted it and tried to swallow the pain, spending my teenage years yearning for the lives they were living without me.
"When I was old enough to attract them, I couldn't tolerate the attentions of any man. None ever seemed like much of a prize, until Vincent began to show interest in me.
"That was my chance to re-insinuate myself into my brother's life. Vincent was courtly and patient, attracted to the things in me that related to his friend. We had Walter in common; that was enough to bind us together.
"Medical school was therapeutic. I redirected my frustrations into my studies and competed easily with the others. Matthew Johan was a constant classmate during that time, and he came to know Walter well, both through me and his older sister. So it turned out that I was back in with my brother, after all.
"I was a happier person than I'd ever been before. It seemed like a good time to settle down and make a home and a life. Vince was always there for me, even though I'd been too young for romance, in his opinion, that is: I know that because he told me. He could sense my sexual detachment. But still, back then I thought I knew differently.
"Walter and Hildy were the leaders. It was difficult to keep up with them and their projects. Vincent began to plan the Fruitlands with them, while at the same time making inroads with Shinra.
"Deep down, I cringed at every small change in our world; I was afraid of losing all of them. Matthew knew me well enough to caution against creating a false relationship with men. He knew, even when I didn't. I actively pursued Vincent, to achieve my aims. For his part, Vince said it was only natural that we should be together, all of us, as friends and family.
"So it was with his full cooperation that I had my little fantasy. Lured him into my web, so to speak. In no time, I was expecting our son. We had such a huge network in the area, it supported us as a couple and a family. I worked with Matthew in his clinic, and Vince worked with Shinra. My brother and Hildy began to build the winery and orchards, with the militia on the side at all times.
"Our baby adored his father, and Vince was attentive to us both. We were happy enough, with our family and circle of friends, but it became clear that Matthew was right all along. I just didn't really know for a fact at first, and Vince thought the whole thing was some fancy of mine, a normal development that I would eventually outgrow. I was still very young, and he was willing to be patient.
"As you can imagine, in couple of years we drifted apart. Our marriage was over. He then became more involved with the Company and began to show more interest in the people at work, while I became more absorbed with raising Victor. We never really worked it out, just arrived at a mutual agreement not to deal with it publicly, remaining part of the larger circle of our family and friends.
"One day, he simply did not return to us. Shinra did not offer a satisfactory explanation. He was missing in action, as so many were. There was no real war, not anymore, just a lot of mysterious disappearances, similar to yours.
"Walter and Hildy and Matthew filled in for Vincent. The whole concept of the communal nursery and creche began with Victor, other children coming in a slow progression. It worked extremely well with the unofficial militia growing around it, too.
"So we've always had plenty of children to love, in an ever-increasing circle of friends and colleagues. Even though Walter and Hildy were childless, they were the pater- and materfamilias. The creche has been continuously in operation for over two decades, fostering dozens of kids already. With everyone's support, it will probably raise many more in the future, especially during these uncertain post-Shinra times.
"There were lots of goings-on that remained secret with Shinra, Inc. We were used to it by the time Sephiroth burned the town. Our people rushed in to stop him, but finally had to fall back. When it was clear that his insane rage was just too much, we retreated with plenty of casualties among our ranks; he was too strong, too magically powerful for our people to fight successfully. And Shinra itself was caught unawares; the madman was actually sent here to serve us! To help clear away the monsters that were coming from in the mountains, or so they said. Vincent says that the company had to have known about the side effects of the Jenova project.
"We went completely underground, to rebuild our defenses and numbers. Then Shinra reconstructed the town, filling it with their own workers, all a bunch of ignorant jerks. Never did they even consult us, or try to recruit local labor, in an attempt to hide the whole incident. As if it never occurred! They nearly succeeded outside of Nibel.
"Your group, Avalanche, was the first to pierce Shinra’s protective armor. And the first to successfully enter the Company Mansion and leave it alive.
"And you returned Vincent to us. The ghost from the past, all the more mysterious because he hadn't aged." Nora stopped, sighing a deep cleansing breath that lasted almost a half-minute. Afterwards, she looked spent and resigned.
Getting it Sorted Out
"Nora, didn't he scare the living daylights out of you? He was quite a sight when we found him, just a huge mass of matted hair, overgrown fingernails, and rotting, tattered clothes. He did tell me the next day that he shaved and groomed it all away before visiting his family. He looked so handsome and heroic in the local uniform, I didn't recognize him."
"Yes, it was a shock to the family, too. He visited each of us separately, saving me for last. We were reunited, and I cried like a baby. Vincent was the same age as before, but he was changed, completely and sadly changed. All his emotions were gone. He had always been awkward expressing his feelings, but this was a curious lack of affect. Still, we were together again, and began to restructure our lives to include him. Vincent concentrated on his son and the grandchildren, and I have been very happy with that. Subsequent visits were the same, with no emotional change, until he mentioned you." Nora smiled—bravely, I thought—and patted my hand. She was indicating Vincent's Damascene ring. The touch made me feel impatient with her; I wanted definitive answers, not hints to a puzzle.
"So I'm the reason you can't be together? Why didn't you simply take up where you left off? We are about the same age, the same type of backgrounds, from what I can see. Surely, I must be some sort of substitute for you, don't you think? And aren't you glad to have him back?"
At this point, Eleanora Randolph Valentine, Vincent's first wife, took me by the hands and looked into my face, grinning broadly, almost comically. She was laughing, or at least unsuccessfully trying to stifle it, and shaking her head.
"Oh, Fini, are you blind? We have picked up where we left off! He and I will always be Victor's parents who love each other. We are all together again, only this time you have joined us. Haven't you?" The last question was practically a plea. I could feel myself cringe, at the same time totally bewildered.
"What the hell are you asking of me? Can we both be Vincent's girls?" All I could think of was Reeve and his weird setup. Were we going to share a husband?
Unable to contain herself, Nora was chortling at first, but then quickly wound down to chuckling affectionately. She was so happy about it, not a mean bone in her body, and so finally I was fully listening. I really wanted to know. At that moment, against all my previous inclinations, I wanted to be friends, to be a part of their circle. She was somehow insisting that I already was.
"Fini, you dope. You dummy. Can't you tell that I'm not interested in men? We are all just family. I thought Vincent would never forgive me for tricking him. But it wasn't on purpose: I didn't realize that I just wanted to keep him with me. Along with Matthew and Walter and Hildy, I needed my own close-knit group again. Only Matthew understood what he was seeing in me. His medical and psychiatric training nailed my sexuality long before I could realize it myself. The rest of us were just too close, too much in love with our little family circle.
"Vincent is very handsome, and our son got the best of his genes. But my ex-husband really needs a wife: a woman who is in love with him, that he can cherish and protect, as they say. We are hoping you are she." I let her hold me only because I was nearly falling down from the shock, the relief and even the disbelief I felt after hearing her story.
All the threads tied together, but not neatly. Vincent must have been very badly hurt, all those years ago. It was clear that Nora was the one who left him on the rebound for Lucrecia Crescent, to be lured deep into the Shinra hellhole, where he lay, suffering the throes of the damned, for thirty long years.
For the first time since I arrived, I relaxed and hugged someone wholeheartedly. We really could share Vincent, and everyone else in her circle. It was the definitive beginning of our friendship.
And ended any possibility of a marriage contract with Vincent, before any could begin. Or, rather, any real urgency. Our love tokens, the Damascene bands, could remain where they were, at least for the present. Our somewhat separate lifestyles could work for us, after all. He needed more time to heal and I needed to live my own life for a while. We would have to learn how to cherish and protect each other equally.
It seemed like a daunting project for the both of us.
Working the PHS
Nora Randolph walked me back to the base, and we ate our dinners together. It was the first of many leisurely meals, where we would sort out recent projects and occurrences, and how they would relate to the family and Fruitlands. For the first time in my life, I had a friend who shared simple conversation with me. Our closeness in age and station in life were unprecedented in my experience. Usually I was the Mommy, or the wife whose job was secondary to that of my husband. Whether with homemakers or corporate women, this usually left me the outsider.
On base and at the ranch I was accepted as a coordinator, the main strategist for breeding and incorporating dragons into the militia. My rank made it mandatory that people would defer to my judgment, and I had to be very insistent just to get their input and opinions. This worked especially well with the younger soldiers, who were only too happy to obey. With the Randolphs and the Valentines, well, we were family and shared the way families do or sometimes don't. On and off, as the mood took each person, and now there were lots who considered themselves my family.
I began to look forward to meals on base, while I quietly leased a room, more or less permanently, at the inn. Nothing of value or strategic importance was kept where the prying hotelier could spy; he always made me feel a little uncomfortable. Yet, when I wanted time alone, I could move there for the day, making calls and watching files and perusing the Network. It would prove an invaluable resource, allowing me personal privacy and time away from the regimented life on base. And the demands of a very close-knit family.
Later that day, after eating with Nora, I repaired to the inn, and began making calls. ChocoBilly's Chocobo Ranch was the first on my list.
By the time we fought Sephiroth in the North Crater, we'd already raised three Gold chocobos. It took millions of gil and lots of concentrated man hours. For many weeks I had to run back and forth between the ranch and our group, and I wasn't working alone. All of us were required to stop in frequently to bring in new stock, release the poorer quality birds, train the better ones for racing, and prep the best for mating. Those birds were needed for the overseas travel, and were well worth the cost and trouble.
On the other hand, to my way of thinking, the most useful bird of all is the Black chocobo. My sweet Ebony could run all over most of the Planet without ever losing energy. She was the mother of our first Gold. Golds are great for crossing the oceans, but they are hyper, extremely so, and we usually kept them for long distance travel. They are the only ocean-going, air breathing creature alive.
Note that I said "alive." Some Weapons were apparently capable of moving over land, others were able to live underwater, while a few could fly. I still get a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, remembering the Weapons. Let's hope there are no more to awaken, ready to clean our clocks, and wipe us off the face of the Planet.
ChocoBilly was not happy to hear from me. He knew I wanted the birds. The Golds, well advertised and prominently displayed, were a draw for new business. With Shinra out of commission, there was a growing need for animal transportation, as Mako-powered vehicles were suddenly no longer being manufactured. It would be a while before anything was mass-produced again.
"Billy, I'm not stealing your business; the birds are ours, remember? You simply rent out the stables and provide the feed." Got the feeling he would have been much happier if we were all killed, leaving him with the stock.
"No Ma'am, I haven't forgotten. And I'm hurt you'd suggest that I would accuse you of anything. Still, you've left these birds in our care, and we've become attached to them. It's going to kill me to let them go." That was more like it; he was looking for incentive, his signal that we could talk.
"And I understand that. What stock are you carrying now? Maybe we can take some of the extra off your hands. For a price, of course." The PHS went silent, and I could smell the wood burning and hear the gears cranking in his head.
"Weeeell, you know I'd like at least one Gold here. They are my favorite."
"No doubt. The only ones on the Planet right now. Trust me, Billy, we are starting a breeding program for battle birds. You will have a built-in job supplying stock and feed. We could probably use the nuts and greens. They gather local feed and insects, but nothing approaching the quality you provide. I'm sure we can work out something to your liking." By then, he had recovered his good humor, and was ready to dicker.
"Okay. Here's the deal: you take no more than three of our top birds, and I'll throw in three of the better yellows free. Sound good? And what do you think they'll want for nuts and feed?" His offer was exactly as I expected. Here came the hard part. My counter offer would probably sting a bit.
"All right buddy, I've got a proposition for you. You dig up the Sylkis greens, and we'll pay you to supply them in batches of 99. Return Glitter to me, Ebony and WonderBoy, and keep the rest in reserve. We don't owe you anything in arrears, right?"
"Ouch! My three best! I love those birds, Fini..." But I wasn't having any of it.
"Our birds, Billy. You still have Sparkle and Gilda, the mated pair. Also ours. The deal was that you could keep any unnamed, unexpected birds or any other color. Any more luck with our Golds?"
"Chick on the way. Aurelia if it's female and Spangle for a male, as I remember. What about the Greens and Blues? We've got a good number; many are already racing. Can you give me a lead?"
"I'll check with Eleanora Randolph. She may want one of the Greens, although they are raising their own. Meantime, contact Cloud or Tifa at the Seventh Heaven in Midgar's Sector 7. They were the only ones interested besides Cid and me. Maybe someone from Chocobo Square. Heard anything from Yuffie?"
"Wutai took a pair of Blacks. Bought and paid for, no less. These last few months have been very good: even left you guys with a tidy credit. Yuffie came for them herself, as a present for Lord Godor. Hey, how shall I transport your birds to Nibelheim?"
"Call Cid in Rocket Town. He'll have something. You should touch base with him before you do anything with the racers, anyway. Otherwise, we can arrange a ship from Junon. Only if he's all tied up, though. You need me to come by?"
"No Ma'am. I'll travel with the Gold myself. What have they got in Nibel?"
"Best bird I've seen so far is an enormous Green. But they're all battle birds, Billy. They don't much race them.” Then I remembered Desirée and Leprechaun.
“Hey, Billy, how about Chocobo wrestling? With the larger birds, it looks like wicked fun. Talk to your Grampa about the gaming possibilities. Then call Nora's Pride; that's the name of the ranch. You’ve got to see this in person. I'll tell Nora to watch for you: you can maybe do some business together. Bye now: give my best to Gramps and Chole."
Billy never said goodbye when he disconnected: a personal superstition. He didn't want to jinx a business relationship, so he never signed off on a customer.
Sounded like a deal to me. Everything was a business deal with Billy.
Hatching Schemes
The Second File
The cool Nibelheim Spring was warming up to a Summer that promised to be a scorcher. Already a little bit of extra weight was telling on me: not that anyone else could sense it, but I knew from experience that my body was getting warmer. And so I reviewed Hojo’s files, then brought them to Matthew and Nora for further corroboration. The two had progressed further than expected in their investigation: he’d already contacted Andrea and Paula, interviewing them extensively. They were very forthcoming with all information and suggestions. He said he had something for me, so we exchanged records. Dr. Johan looked very serious and spoke in a tight, controlled tone.
“Dr. Andrea Johnson gave me this file for you to watch. It is the record of the end of your previous pregnancy. I’m sorry Fini; I hadn’t realized the nature of your incarceration at Shinra, Inc. You know Vincent: he doesn’t answer any questions that haven’t been asked.”
“The pregnancy with the boys! Can’t wait to see it. Supposedly the Jenova effect shortens and enhances the gestation.” The looks on their faces told me the rest. At that moment I feared they would try to hide the document from me. I wanted the information at any cost. Perhaps the birthing was different from normal human ones; I would need all the information I could find.
“Come on, people! Can’t be as bad as the one I just gave you. I’m dead out in it, flat on my back, feet in the stirrups, wearing nothing but a sheet.” My cheeks reddened with the realization that they would see me in such vulnerable situation.
“If you say so, but Fini, you are awake in the beginning of this one. You are visibly not yourself. Then, well, just please be prepared before you view it.” Matthew still looked worried, so I tried again.
“What? Are you offering me a drink or something.?”
“Yes. Well, no, although you should at least sit down.” Heard that one before, so I sat in the chair to appease them. With Nora at my left and Matthew standing on the right, we must have looked like a party headed for the execution chamber.
The video exhibited the same production values as the one I’d just presented to them. Mostly fixed camera and talking heads. Sounded like the same rundown, too. The Professor anticipated the verification of the hypotheses presented during the first procedure in the operating theater.
The camera panned to the experimental subject, who was enormously pregnant and looked sedated. I was outraged that they would risk the health of the unborn babies, using drugs to pollute my system. Then Paula stepped into view and began to clinically explain my status: nearing the end of the third trimester, ready to deliver by Cesarean Section. Subject had been conditioned to accept all instruction from Hojo as direct order. Right on cue, the Professor moved into the center of the frame and spoke.
“Josey, come to me.” And the zombie with my face moved to his side. The Professor took her arm and led her to a hospital gurney.
“Lie down.” She did. Attendants walked into view, raised the foot of the bed, transforming it into an operating table, and prepped the body for surgery. The subject stared unblinking at the ceiling. Then with his back to my body, Hojo spoke directly to the camera.
“You will sleep, and you will go very deep. You will awaken only when I tell you to wake. Understand?” My body nodded its head, unseen by the speaker.
“Go to sleep.” My person closed her eyes, and what little life there was, completely left her face.
Then we were treated to a complete surgical delivery, from disinfection of the incision site to childbirth and post-operative suturing, all handled by Andrea and her assistants. I thanked Whoever Was in Charge of the ordering of my life that I had worked in research for so many years, and that that had encompassed viewing cesareans as well as other surgical procedures. Watching them cut into my abdomen was one of the most passively distressing experiences of my life. The zombie did not react, so I tried to fixate on the surgery as if I were not there at all. And it fascinated me to be able to watch the delivery of my sons, Ronin and Ryuji, birthed in that order. The little fellows wasted no time in beginning to whine, then worked up to full-fledged squalling (in unison!), their runty faces plump with the effort. The room filled with the sounds of cheers and congratulations. Everyone was making a lot of joyous noise, except for me, the mother, left out cold on the table.
Finally, the proud Professor held both babies up to his face, to show the camera that there was some sort of resemblance to their father. He then turned and handed them out of range, while dictating that two foster mothers were taking the boys to be nursed and raised, together, as normally as possible. Their birthright would surely include more fame than even the Great Sephiroth had enjoyed; they would be both fighters and scholars, and yet still retain the human touch. An exciting new era was predicted: the cream of intellectual and warrior genes were now collected and would be prepared for later Jenova treatment. One could almost imagine background music swelling and the Professor hopping on a horse and riding off into a glorious sunset.
Fuming, I reached forward and terminated the program.
“That’s what you think, bastard. You’re now dead. The boys are being raised as regular kids, and I have my life back in my own control.”
“Go easy, Josephine. That’s enough for now. We can watch the rest another time.” I swung around and stared at Vincent, who also surprised Matthew and Eleanora. He still had the silent touch when it came to sneaking around. “Matthew, keep the files here for now. We can collect them later, when Josephine feels up to gathering more information.”
Without another word, he walked up, took both hands and drew me to my feet. I felt the anger drain away from me as I stood. Vincent smiled crookedly and lifted his hand to my face. With his thumb, he gently wiped one tear from my cheek. Then he spoke in an uncharacteristically soothing whisper.
“Would you like a cocktail?” He bowed as he asked, leaving me dazed and charmed by the whole interaction. He could be so courtly at times. Of course I would like a drink.
“Perhaps a small glass of wine would be better.” Matthew spoke with compassionate authority, laying his hand on my forearm. Vincent turned to him in icy, silent reproach.
“Vincent, most doctors now prefer that pregnant ladies do not use alcohol.” Eleanora, too, spoke kindly. “Even here in the Fruitlands.” Vincent relaxed and smiled apologetically.
“Josephine will be happy with a half-glass, I’m sure.” Neither of us felt the need to explain that he’d been on top of it all along, well before the pregnancy test. I smiled at him, remembering how earlier he’d slammed all the drinks that came my way, to protect our unborn baby.
“It’s all right, Vincent. Maybe just some lunch together would be nice.” I whispered. It would be a shame to lose the mood he had just created. Everyone seemed to feel the same and we all nodded at once, drawing close to one another again.
Eleanora checked the waiting area and motioned us outside, with a wide sweep of her arm. Then we all left the office, at peace and ready to share a meal.
This family thing was going to be a bumpy trip.
Despite the nasty video showing, the simple lunch at the lodge still tasted good. And a half-glass of red wine works just as well with a meal as a whole one.
Nothing like a touch of the forbidden to enhance one’s dining pleasure.
Good company helps, too.
The Hatchling
The little bit of wine was just enough to make me forget Old What’s-His-Name at the Shinra labs. And I was ready to move on to more pressing local matters. As I rose from table, Vincent signaled, and I bent down towards his face, hoping for a kiss. Instead, he whispered to me, an impish look in his crimson eyes.
“There will be something you’re sure to enjoy when you return this afternoon. Look for me in our room before you go to dinner.” He said nothing more, refusing any further information, but by then I was already itching to visit Esmerelda.
There might be a new dragonet that very day.
I took leave of the family and marched straight to the armory. When I requested the mithril vest, the quartermaster looked askance. He didn’t actually ask, but I understood his consternation: I hadn’t signed for weapons. None would ever be needed for protection against Esmerelda. I knew that, but no one else would agree, so I paid lip service to everyone‘s fears. We would surely convert them all, later.
“There will be armed individuals with me. We’re only going to visit the dragons.” At that, he smiled conspiratorially.
“They tell me we’ve nabbed a big Blue. Are we really going to train him to battle? Shall we requisition armor for them?” He sounded as if he were only half joking.
“You know, I hadn’t thought about training up the acquired ones, only the hatchlings. We have an eager young fellow in that Ken. He’s already cemented a relationship with the Great Northern Blue, named him and all. Better check with him first.” Wow. Could we be creating hopeful dragon riders, so soon?
I hadn’t realized that I, too, wanted to ride a dragon, so much so that the anticipation was starting to chafe. And yet, the entire project was simply unfolding before I could even plan it, as if it had a life of its own. Seemed almost magical.
That afternoon, I slipped into the mail easily, but noted that it was becoming snug at the bosom. What a strange feeling for a usually small-breasted woman! Yes, I do remember nursing the first two babies, but size wasn’t an issue: a woman’s body adjusts to the need. Could the pace of the pregnancy be that accelerated? I made a mental note to speak to the arms maker about some interim alterations. Maybe the side openings could be expanded.
On my trip past the ranch, I collected not only Sheol, but also the two breeders, Sebastian and Kulloden. After I explained our mission was to begin collecting procedures for tending and breeding dragons, they demurred.
“Ma’am neither of us has any experience with dragons. I’m afraid we’d just be underfoot.” Sebastian looked sincerely regretful.
“Pfft! Listen, guys. If I had access to a dragon breeder or even rider, don’t you think he or she would be here right now? We are going to write our own manual.
“Birds and dragons are distantly related, at least they are closer to one another than they are to us. Both are warm-blooded and egg layers that tend their young after hatching. And both are easily trained to take riders. I’ll bet my eyeteeth you will notice many other similarities, too.
“Look. We’ve got a partly tamed female already. Ken and the time mage are working with the Great Northern Blue even as we speak. After we finish with Esmerelda, you will visit the other chamber and see what’s happening there.”
Kulloden was actively recording our conversation, and the two began to ask questions.
“Ma’am, what exactly do you expect of us today?”
“Observe, observe, observe. You breed chocobos and should have plenty of experience between you. Bring up anything that doesn’t look or sound right. We’ll dope it out and decide whether or not the ranch procedures apply. Also, you should just step in and help if you think you can or should. The same goes for questions. Make them up, if you have to, and take some time to brainstorm questions and answers, the four of you.
“Sebastian, you will lead another group of armed scavengers into the Shinra Mansion basement. If you fellows found that monograph, then there must be some other useful information down there. Uh, this time see if you can find someone who uses Ice; it may come in handy.” He smiled a slow, self-deprecating smirk. Then he looked resolute and excited, his eyes widening.
“Do you think the Green dragon will recognize Burning Blue? Should I bring the Moon Shard?” He slapped the spear affectionately.
“We usually check our weapons at the entrance. Esmerelda is not dangerous at all.
“She may feel threatened, or she may feel kinship. Her magic is definitely Fire. But no spear near her or the egg.” Sheol was waving for my attention. I signaled for her to go ahead. We then collected all our arms together in a upright formation where they would be clearly visible to any other soldiers, but still out of the way.
As we neared the entrance, a strong, soft dragon-purr was audible, along with the sound of Sheol’s cooing, and maybe something else, as yet undefined. We hurried into Esmerelda’s chamber.
The bulk of the big lizard was at the rear of the chamber, but her head was hidden behind Sheol. The little soldier was on her knees, using baby talk in a high pitched coo, looking and sounding like a proud auntie.
“Just a beautiful baby, Esmé! Show everyone your baby!” She was excitedly stroking the dragon’s huge head. My heartbeat quickened and I hurried closer to the dragon, talking directly to her. The breeding hen must be made to feel she is the star of the show, the diva. In many ways, she is: no hen, no hatchlings.
“What do you have for us, Esmerelda? Did you have a visitor in the night?” The dragon looked at me with serene pleasure in her eyes. I moved in very close, scanning to find the hatchling. “Sheol, where is her baby?” The young woman moved aside. There, under the left forearm, was a tiny, very green little lizard.
Size is relative. The newborn was bigger than most cats, and looked to weigh about 10.5 kilos. Esmerelda was covering it with her clawed forepaw. The baby was watching us with unblinking eyes, shiny little black beads like that of a bird.
Kulloden was mesmerized, lost in wonder. I turned to Sebastian.
“Do you think she will let us pet her offspring?” He shook his head vigorously.
“We never try to touch the hatchlings until the mother lets them roam. Give her time.” Then Kulloden chipped in, without taking her eyes from the creatures.
“Yeah, she looks really protective right now. It would be different if there had been a whole clutch of eggs.” Their answer disappointed me, but it was evident that Sheol was also not attempting any contact.
Well, leave it to the experts. I walked over to the new mommy.
“Esmerelda, it’s a beautiful baby. And you are a very good mommy.” I petted her head, ignoring the little lizard as much as I could. Then something else occurred to me.
“Sheol, take Sebastian and the Scythe and gather feed for these two. I want some observation time.” After they left, I sat down with my back against a stalagmite, and indicated for Kulloden to do the same. Then we began to converse in a normal tone, in hopes that our green lady would begin to ignore us.
“Kulloden, I specifically want you to think in terms of how these lizards will react to the sounds and smell of firearms. You mentioned earlier that you expect your steed to keep in tune with your need for silence and meditation. How do you reconcile the firearms with that need?”
She thought a moment, and answered slowly. “I don’t. You can see that the chocobos are inured to the noise of firearms. We keep them close to the rifle range for that reason. What we will do with an adult dragon, I don’t know. As for the dragonet, it can be inured the same as our birds.”
After a short while, the mother lifted her paw from the chick. The little one immediately began to nose about the floor, dragging its body bit by bit across the floor of the cave. It was mewling and peeping the entire time.
“Esmerelda, are you sure that your baby is a dragon? Doesn’t look like one to me.” And it certainly did not. The hapless little lizard had a short, stubby tail and no evidence of the characteristic, snake-like neck. And it was covered with wrinkles! Maybe the long neck and tail were both hiding under all the crinkly skin. After watching it a while, my eyes began to pick out the dragonish details. The biggest mass of wrinkles were probably the wings, still folded over from being confined to the egg casing. Perhaps the tail would grow as the little beast matured. The tiny creature didn’t seem to have scales, but instead was covered with sparkles. “Baby’s pretty, Girl, all glittery and green.”
Now the dragonet was squeaking louder, sounding rather distressed as it moved across the floor towards Kulloden. The mommy suddenly lifted up and moved over to her little one. My companion pulled her limbs up close to her torso, and seemed to be holding her breath.
“Pretty big bird, don’t you think?” I chuckled as I spoke. Kulloden nodded at me, agog over the busy little baby and its enormous mother.
“Is she safe?” Her eyes were so widely opened that they were half-hidden under the silvery bangs.
“I’d love to say yes, but frankly, we can‘t. That’s where you and the other breeders come in. Watch for anything I should know, according to your experience with the birds.” At the moment, it seemed the dragon was listening to me. She came right up, butting me hard against the formation.
“Hey, girl, stop it! I have to watch out for my baby, too, you know.” I grabbed the huge head and pulled her away from my belly. Then I gently slapped her neck, as a diversion, calling to the soldier.
“Come pet Esmerelda. She needs to learn to trust you, too.” At that moment, the hatchling moved back to its mother, bringing it within my reach. The big one made no move to cover her offspring.
“Wait a bit, Kulloden. She’s not discouraging me. Let’s see if I can touch the baby.
“Esmerelda, do you want me to pet your hatchling? Bring me your baby, girl. Let’s see your baby!” The huge lizard moved aside, turning her neck toward the dragonet. She then turned again towards me, that look of absolute trust and pleasure in her eyes. It spooked me.
“Okay, Esmerelda, I’ll hold your baby, but I certainly hope you are at least a little discerning in your future choice of nannies.” With a deep breath, I reached over to the chick, looking back to the mother and then again to the chick. Didn’t want to lose my life in a premature experiment. When I finally touched the newborn, it felt sort of scratchy, without any of the smoothness of the mother’s armor and no soft, suede like underside. Then I lifted the dragonet with both hands, and pulled it onto my lap, cradling it to give it my warmth. It abruptly stopped its squeaking. It smelled stinky, not at all like the mother, who didn’t have much odor, except a slight musky scent. I resolved to ignore the rancid reek; after all, it was newly hatched, so later it should smell better. Or so I reasoned.
Kulloden came up on the other side, making very soft, tentative hissing sounds to alert the dragon of her presence. She began to pet the scales, never taking her eyes off the massive head.
“Esmé, you hatched a beautiful child! Fini, what’s it like?”
“Well, it doesn’t weigh any where near what I thought. Maybe only five kilos or so. Makes me worry that it might be rather delicate. And the scales are scratchy, that’s why they sparkle in the light. It’s cuddling against my belly, for the warmth, I guess. Come to think of it, the cavern floor is very cold; it’s numbing my butt.”
Sheol was talking at the entrance to the chamber. She and Sebastian brought in a few bags of cave crustaceans. Esmerelda immediately abandoned us all, including her infant, to beg for the treats.
“Good! Bring some for the little one.” Sebastian was frowning at me with marked displeasure, but Sheol simply giggled.
“Don’t need to. And you won’t want to be holding the dragonet when its feeding time comes.” She was laughing now, and looking at the others.
“Why? How could a lizard be a messier eater than a human infant?” Now Sebastian was laughing, too. He motioned to his throat, and Kulloden joined in.
“All right, guys. What’s the joke? Why aren’t we feeding the baby?”
“I’ve already seen the baby eat. Esmé fed her just before you all came in, while you were stacking the weapons. Fini, the dragon feeds her baby the same way a chocobo does.
“Let’s just say you wouldn’t want to kiss either of them on the lips, if they had any.” All three were looking at me, waiting.
After a full five seconds, I realized the answer. Urk. We humans are lucky we don’t have to regurgitate our meals for our infants. I immediately moved the chick over to its mother, who was greedily consuming crustaceans right out of the gathering bag.
All four of us watched as the Green Dragon completely emptied the first sack. Content, she then settled herself flat onto the floor, bending her head down to the hatchling. And in exactly the same way a chocobo feeds a new chick, Esmerelda opened her mouth and dropped a huge glop right onto the little one’s head. For its part, the dragonet had opened its little mouth as wide as it possibly could, much wider than I would have expected feasible. But the chewed, partially digested crustaceans still dripped over the baby, leaving it a stinking, gooey mess. Urk again.
I made a mental note that I shouldn’t put my hands near my face until I could properly wash. My companions were now laughing outright, and I could only join in the fun.
“Well, I have just two questions, then. One, do we even have to find food anymore? And two, anybody know how to sex these things?”
After a short discussion, we decided to continue providing snacks until the dragonet no longer needed regurgitated meals. With chocobos, that would be about a week, but we would have to wait to learn the time period for our new little battle dragon.
As for sexing the little stinker, no one knew. Perhaps we would be able to compare the genitals of our two adults. Or maybe we could detect it using a sexing probe. One thing only was certain. Baby’s sex would not be vitally important until we wanted to breed it, and that would be decades away.
During our conference, the dragons had finished their meals, and were settling in—for a nap, we hoped—cuddling together in the same manner as birds and mammals. That was a load off my mind, especially considering the cold, hard cavern floor.
We collected the remaining feed bags and traveled through the caverns to the Blue Dragon’s chamber.
Somebody say Akasha?
Ken Woods and Adrianna were tending the dragon, with a ring of soldiers watching from what I guessed was supposed to be a safe distance. Everyone seemed to be waiting impatiently, kept in suspense.
The dragon wasn’t moving, its body lying flat on its side, stretched along the wall of the grotto. Alarmed, I ran up to Ken.
“What’s wrong? What happened to our Buddy?” He put a finger to his lips and walked me around to the behemoth lizard’s other side. There, with backs against the cavern wall, were the quartermaster and a tiny, ancient-looking woman, busily working something into the tattered wings of the lindworm. We watched a short while before I realized they were repairing the damage caused by the catastrophic battle with Esmerelda.
Everyone had indeed bought into my little project. We were going to be dragon riders, after all. Day after day, with one triumph after another, I still couldn’t quite grasp that we were likely to succeed. I could feel my eyes tearing up, so I quickly left them and returned to the front of the cave. The time mage followed me closely.
“You okay? Fini, what’s wrong? The Great Blue will be fine. The quartermaster said you sent them. It’s what you wanted, isn’t it? Are you okay?” Adrianna had a tendency to multiply words when she was nervous. She really was very young, despite her considerable magic accomplishments. In order to soothe her worries, I ordered her to report, and she immediately snapped to.
“The quartermaster said you were looking into the possibility of equipping the dragons. Ken got really excited and showed him Buddy’s wingspread. The two of them began discussing Buddy as if he were some sort of racecar or warplane, maybe. Then Sonny called up "his Nana" to look into the possibility of repairing the tatters. She’s making some sort of lace or latticework to fill in and allow the webbing to heal.” Adrianna, too, looked very excited and beamed at my companions.
“This Nana, she’s a veterinarian? From the ranch?” My confusion was making me feel out to sea. So damned many people to remember!
“No, Ma’am. Our Shinju Kameko is a tapestry maker from the old days. A real Grande Dame. Vincent knows her; she’s doing some work for him, too.” I shook my head to clear the cobwebs. Never again would I drink even a little before an afternoon of work. I wandered to the back of the dragon again. The diminutive woman was raucously scolding the much larger quartermaster.
“Dammit, kid, hold it straight! Yeah, like that. No, the way you had it! Just a little while longer, and I’ll have it woven. Sonny, dammit! Can’t you hold it just one minute more?”
“For crying out loud, Nana, don’t your arms ever get tired?” The old woman gave him a quick whap to the side of his head.
“I’ve worked on tapestries all my life. You think I let a few minutes work stymie me? Come on now, suck it up!” I backed away quickly before anyone could notice me watching their little squabble. The old woman’s tone sounded vaguely familiar. Eh, family is family; I figured it just rang familiar because my parents bickered so much.
“Sounds like they’re almost finished, according to Lady Kameko.” Adrianna had been standing right behind me, unperturbed by the exchange.
“They always like that?” She nodded, grinning. I had to admit: it certainly looked that way. In a short while the two of them came around to the front, smiling, with the big guy’s arm around the little lady.
“Nana’s got it! And you know what? She says the weaving will hold, even if the flesh webbing doesn’t. She used to do this stuff all the time!” He hugged the woman again. She whacked him playfully in the chest.
“You kids don’t know anything anymore. It’s not the design that makes dragons fly, it’s their magic and strength. That guy’s so steeped in Akasha, he doesn’t need his wings to fly. He will need them for his dignity in battle!” She was pointing at Buddy and essentially scolding us all for our ignorance. I jumped on her last statements.
“Whoa, Ma’am! What do you know about dragons?” My heart was pounding.
The tiny crone came straight to me and, reaching up, she grabbed both my cheeks in one hand, squishing my mouth in between. She looked shrewdly into each of my eyes and then pulled away and slapped at my belly. I was astounded by the treatment, and was going to ask her what was up, when she started giving me, and everyone else, a dressing down.
“Easy girl, you shouldn’t get so heated up! Find a chair or a rock or something. Hey, what’s the matter with everybody? Why isn’t this woman seated?
“And what are you thinking?” She stabbed her finger at me. “You think that little vest will protect your baby from a dragon if he decides he wants you for a snack?”
I loved every minute of it. I thought this lady must have been the surprise Vincent promised. She grabbed my arm and began to drag me out of the chamber, scolding all the while. I shouldn’t be on my feet so much, why was I working with a dragon? She used to work with dragons, too. What was the matter with everyone? How could they expect the big fellow to trust them if they felt the need to knock it out for a simple repair? Dragons are much stronger than we could ever imagine! None of us knew anything!
“Nana, leave Commander Lindorm alone! She’s in charge here.” Sonny was pleading, then he begged her to settle down and go home.
“Quartermaster, just a minute. The lady can do anything she likes, just as long as she tells me everything she knows about dragons.” I spoke in a low tone as an aside, because I didn’t want the woman to stop her tirade, she was so entertaining.
But the Lady Shinju Kameko heard anyway and turned to scream at her grandson. “You have Yoshikuni’s daughter here and you didn’t tell me? What’s the matter with everybody?” She turned to me again, and poked my sternum, right where it would hurt, making me gasp. “I knew your father and mother.”
I gently interrupted. “They were my grandparents. My father lives in Midgar still.” Undeterred, she smiled and nodded at me.
“Of course. Sometimes I forget how long ago that was. This Great Blue makes me feel alive again, like I‘m ready for anything. That’s the magic, his Akasha! You will know. You should feel it, too.” Was that the magic being worked on our project? The feeling surely increased whenever I touched Esmerelda. Seemed to me I was simply getting over-enthused during the visits.
“Did I hear somebody say Akasha?” A small light emerged from a dark corner. The light became a burning cigarette that was attached to Desirèe. She wore a little smirk and walked right up to Sonny, giving him a whack on the shoulder. Of course, then I remembered. Desirèe would surely claim Akasha as her own element, more so than Lightning. She didn’t need wings to rise from the floor during her limit break. What had she called it? Puddy Whipped? (Hey, this is a PG-rated memoir.)
Sonny responded by slapping down the cigarette and crushing it on the floor. “Sis, for crying out loud, gotta smoke everywhere you go? What about the dragon?”
“If Buddy can’t take a little smoke, how will he fight in battle?” She pulled up another cigarette, but then simply held it in her teeth. I finally took note of the lighter brown hair. The Quartermaster's close crop was also a sandy brown. There had to be some relationship to Cid Highwind, at least as far as Desirèe was concerned. And it was evident in their looks that nearly all these kids were related to the old woman from the old days, who worked with my Grampa.
At that point, I gave orders to my companions to remain with Adrianna and Ken to compare notes on the day’s occurrences. I repeated the request for separate reports from the two breeders. With all the details wrapped up and left to the soldiers, I offered my arm to the little woman and formally invited her to tea in the lodge. She graciously accepted. Then she dismissed all the kids with a quick wave, and pulled me out of the chamber. I knew I finally struck gold; that lady could surely bend my ears for hours without getting tired.
She did not disappoint me, except that she wound down after only an hour, telling me that I needed my rest. I should look for my husband; he had a surprise for me, but she had promised not to spoil it.
By then my head was so full of stories from the old days, the Lady Kameko was right about my needing a nap. But there was no real usable information, her stories were all anecdotal; I made her promise to visit with me another time. She should check with the kids and tell them when she was ready. I certainly hoped I could keep up with her, and remember to ask pertinent questions.
I was so befuddled by the fact that she was not my promised surprise, I forgot to tell her that Vincent wasn’t my husband.
The cool Nibelheim Spring was warming up to a Summer that promised to be a scorcher. Already a little bit of extra weight was telling on me: not that anyone else could sense it, but I knew from experience that my body was getting warmer. And so I reviewed Hojo’s files, then brought them to Matthew and Nora for further corroboration. The two had progressed further than expected in their investigation: he’d already contacted Andrea and Paula, interviewing them extensively. They were very forthcoming with all information and suggestions. He said he had something for me, so we exchanged records. Dr. Johan looked very serious and spoke in a tight, controlled tone.
“Dr. Andrea Johnson gave me this file for you to watch. It is the record of the end of your previous pregnancy. I’m sorry Fini; I hadn’t realized the nature of your incarceration at Shinra, Inc. You know Vincent: he doesn’t answer any questions that haven’t been asked.”
“The pregnancy with the boys! Can’t wait to see it. Supposedly the Jenova effect shortens and enhances the gestation.” The looks on their faces told me the rest. At that moment I feared they would try to hide the document from me. I wanted the information at any cost. Perhaps the birthing was different from normal human ones; I would need all the information I could find.
“Come on, people! Can’t be as bad as the one I just gave you. I’m dead out in it, flat on my back, feet in the stirrups, wearing nothing but a sheet.” My cheeks reddened with the realization that they would see me in such vulnerable situation.
“If you say so, but Fini, you are awake in the beginning of this one. You are visibly not yourself. Then, well, just please be prepared before you view it.” Matthew still looked worried, so I tried again.
“What? Are you offering me a drink or something.?”
“Yes. Well, no, although you should at least sit down.” Heard that one before, so I sat in the chair to appease them. With Nora at my left and Matthew standing on the right, we must have looked like a party headed for the execution chamber.
The video exhibited the same production values as the one I’d just presented to them. Mostly fixed camera and talking heads. Sounded like the same rundown, too. The Professor anticipated the verification of the hypotheses presented during the first procedure in the operating theater.
The camera panned to the experimental subject, who was enormously pregnant and looked sedated. I was outraged that they would risk the health of the unborn babies, using drugs to pollute my system. Then Paula stepped into view and began to clinically explain my status: nearing the end of the third trimester, ready to deliver by Cesarean Section. Subject had been conditioned to accept all instruction from Hojo as direct order. Right on cue, the Professor moved into the center of the frame and spoke.
“Josey, come to me.” And the zombie with my face moved to his side. The Professor took her arm and led her to a hospital gurney.
“Lie down.” She did. Attendants walked into view, raised the foot of the bed, transforming it into an operating table, and prepped the body for surgery. The subject stared unblinking at the ceiling. Then with his back to my body, Hojo spoke directly to the camera.
“You will sleep, and you will go very deep. You will awaken only when I tell you to wake. Understand?” My body nodded its head, unseen by the speaker.
“Go to sleep.” My person closed her eyes, and what little life there was, completely left her face.
Then we were treated to a complete surgical delivery, from disinfection of the incision site to childbirth and post-operative suturing, all handled by Andrea and her assistants. I thanked Whoever Was in Charge of the ordering of my life that I had worked in research for so many years, and that that had encompassed viewing cesareans as well as other surgical procedures. Watching them cut into my abdomen was one of the most passively distressing experiences of my life. The zombie did not react, so I tried to fixate on the surgery as if I were not there at all. And it fascinated me to be able to watch the delivery of my sons, Ronin and Ryuji, birthed in that order. The little fellows wasted no time in beginning to whine, then worked up to full-fledged squalling (in unison!), their runty faces plump with the effort. The room filled with the sounds of cheers and congratulations. Everyone was making a lot of joyous noise, except for me, the mother, left out cold on the table.
Finally, the proud Professor held both babies up to his face, to show the camera that there was some sort of resemblance to their father. He then turned and handed them out of range, while dictating that two foster mothers were taking the boys to be nursed and raised, together, as normally as possible. Their birthright would surely include more fame than even the Great Sephiroth had enjoyed; they would be both fighters and scholars, and yet still retain the human touch. An exciting new era was predicted: the cream of intellectual and warrior genes were now collected and would be prepared for later Jenova treatment. One could almost imagine background music swelling and the Professor hopping on a horse and riding off into a glorious sunset.
Fuming, I reached forward and terminated the program.
“That’s what you think, bastard. You’re now dead. The boys are being raised as regular kids, and I have my life back in my own control.”
“Go easy, Josephine. That’s enough for now. We can watch the rest another time.” I swung around and stared at Vincent, who also surprised Matthew and Eleanora. He still had the silent touch when it came to sneaking around. “Matthew, keep the files here for now. We can collect them later, when Josephine feels up to gathering more information.”
Without another word, he walked up, took both hands and drew me to my feet. I felt the anger drain away from me as I stood. Vincent smiled crookedly and lifted his hand to my face. With his thumb, he gently wiped one tear from my cheek. Then he spoke in an uncharacteristically soothing whisper.
“Would you like a cocktail?” He bowed as he asked, leaving me dazed and charmed by the whole interaction. He could be so courtly at times. Of course I would like a drink.
“Perhaps a small glass of wine would be better.” Matthew spoke with compassionate authority, laying his hand on my forearm. Vincent turned to him in icy, silent reproach.
“Vincent, most doctors now prefer that pregnant ladies do not use alcohol.” Eleanora, too, spoke kindly. “Even here in the Fruitlands.” Vincent relaxed and smiled apologetically.
“Josephine will be happy with a half-glass, I’m sure.” Neither of us felt the need to explain that he’d been on top of it all along, well before the pregnancy test. I smiled at him, remembering how earlier he’d slammed all the drinks that came my way, to protect our unborn baby.
“It’s all right, Vincent. Maybe just some lunch together would be nice.” I whispered. It would be a shame to lose the mood he had just created. Everyone seemed to feel the same and we all nodded at once, drawing close to one another again.
Eleanora checked the waiting area and motioned us outside, with a wide sweep of her arm. Then we all left the office, at peace and ready to share a meal.
This family thing was going to be a bumpy trip.
Despite the nasty video showing, the simple lunch at the lodge still tasted good. And a half-glass of red wine works just as well with a meal as a whole one.
Nothing like a touch of the forbidden to enhance one’s dining pleasure.
Good company helps, too.
The Hatchling
The little bit of wine was just enough to make me forget Old What’s-His-Name at the Shinra labs. And I was ready to move on to more pressing local matters. As I rose from table, Vincent signaled, and I bent down towards his face, hoping for a kiss. Instead, he whispered to me, an impish look in his crimson eyes.
“There will be something you’re sure to enjoy when you return this afternoon. Look for me in our room before you go to dinner.” He said nothing more, refusing any further information, but by then I was already itching to visit Esmerelda.
There might be a new dragonet that very day.
I took leave of the family and marched straight to the armory. When I requested the mithril vest, the quartermaster looked askance. He didn’t actually ask, but I understood his consternation: I hadn’t signed for weapons. None would ever be needed for protection against Esmerelda. I knew that, but no one else would agree, so I paid lip service to everyone‘s fears. We would surely convert them all, later.
“There will be armed individuals with me. We’re only going to visit the dragons.” At that, he smiled conspiratorially.
“They tell me we’ve nabbed a big Blue. Are we really going to train him to battle? Shall we requisition armor for them?” He sounded as if he were only half joking.
“You know, I hadn’t thought about training up the acquired ones, only the hatchlings. We have an eager young fellow in that Ken. He’s already cemented a relationship with the Great Northern Blue, named him and all. Better check with him first.” Wow. Could we be creating hopeful dragon riders, so soon?
I hadn’t realized that I, too, wanted to ride a dragon, so much so that the anticipation was starting to chafe. And yet, the entire project was simply unfolding before I could even plan it, as if it had a life of its own. Seemed almost magical.
That afternoon, I slipped into the mail easily, but noted that it was becoming snug at the bosom. What a strange feeling for a usually small-breasted woman! Yes, I do remember nursing the first two babies, but size wasn’t an issue: a woman’s body adjusts to the need. Could the pace of the pregnancy be that accelerated? I made a mental note to speak to the arms maker about some interim alterations. Maybe the side openings could be expanded.
On my trip past the ranch, I collected not only Sheol, but also the two breeders, Sebastian and Kulloden. After I explained our mission was to begin collecting procedures for tending and breeding dragons, they demurred.
“Ma’am neither of us has any experience with dragons. I’m afraid we’d just be underfoot.” Sebastian looked sincerely regretful.
“Pfft! Listen, guys. If I had access to a dragon breeder or even rider, don’t you think he or she would be here right now? We are going to write our own manual.
“Birds and dragons are distantly related, at least they are closer to one another than they are to us. Both are warm-blooded and egg layers that tend their young after hatching. And both are easily trained to take riders. I’ll bet my eyeteeth you will notice many other similarities, too.
“Look. We’ve got a partly tamed female already. Ken and the time mage are working with the Great Northern Blue even as we speak. After we finish with Esmerelda, you will visit the other chamber and see what’s happening there.”
Kulloden was actively recording our conversation, and the two began to ask questions.
“Ma’am, what exactly do you expect of us today?”
“Observe, observe, observe. You breed chocobos and should have plenty of experience between you. Bring up anything that doesn’t look or sound right. We’ll dope it out and decide whether or not the ranch procedures apply. Also, you should just step in and help if you think you can or should. The same goes for questions. Make them up, if you have to, and take some time to brainstorm questions and answers, the four of you.
“Sebastian, you will lead another group of armed scavengers into the Shinra Mansion basement. If you fellows found that monograph, then there must be some other useful information down there. Uh, this time see if you can find someone who uses Ice; it may come in handy.” He smiled a slow, self-deprecating smirk. Then he looked resolute and excited, his eyes widening.
“Do you think the Green dragon will recognize Burning Blue? Should I bring the Moon Shard?” He slapped the spear affectionately.
“We usually check our weapons at the entrance. Esmerelda is not dangerous at all.
“She may feel threatened, or she may feel kinship. Her magic is definitely Fire. But no spear near her or the egg.” Sheol was waving for my attention. I signaled for her to go ahead. We then collected all our arms together in a upright formation where they would be clearly visible to any other soldiers, but still out of the way.
As we neared the entrance, a strong, soft dragon-purr was audible, along with the sound of Sheol’s cooing, and maybe something else, as yet undefined. We hurried into Esmerelda’s chamber.
The bulk of the big lizard was at the rear of the chamber, but her head was hidden behind Sheol. The little soldier was on her knees, using baby talk in a high pitched coo, looking and sounding like a proud auntie.
“Just a beautiful baby, Esmé! Show everyone your baby!” She was excitedly stroking the dragon’s huge head. My heartbeat quickened and I hurried closer to the dragon, talking directly to her. The breeding hen must be made to feel she is the star of the show, the diva. In many ways, she is: no hen, no hatchlings.
“What do you have for us, Esmerelda? Did you have a visitor in the night?” The dragon looked at me with serene pleasure in her eyes. I moved in very close, scanning to find the hatchling. “Sheol, where is her baby?” The young woman moved aside. There, under the left forearm, was a tiny, very green little lizard.
Size is relative. The newborn was bigger than most cats, and looked to weigh about 10.5 kilos. Esmerelda was covering it with her clawed forepaw. The baby was watching us with unblinking eyes, shiny little black beads like that of a bird.
Kulloden was mesmerized, lost in wonder. I turned to Sebastian.“Do you think she will let us pet her offspring?” He shook his head vigorously.
“We never try to touch the hatchlings until the mother lets them roam. Give her time.” Then Kulloden chipped in, without taking her eyes from the creatures.
“Yeah, she looks really protective right now. It would be different if there had been a whole clutch of eggs.” Their answer disappointed me, but it was evident that Sheol was also not attempting any contact.
Well, leave it to the experts. I walked over to the new mommy.
“Esmerelda, it’s a beautiful baby. And you are a very good mommy.” I petted her head, ignoring the little lizard as much as I could. Then something else occurred to me.
“Sheol, take Sebastian and the Scythe and gather feed for these two. I want some observation time.” After they left, I sat down with my back against a stalagmite, and indicated for Kulloden to do the same. Then we began to converse in a normal tone, in hopes that our green lady would begin to ignore us.
“Kulloden, I specifically want you to think in terms of how these lizards will react to the sounds and smell of firearms. You mentioned earlier that you expect your steed to keep in tune with your need for silence and meditation. How do you reconcile the firearms with that need?”
She thought a moment, and answered slowly. “I don’t. You can see that the chocobos are inured to the noise of firearms. We keep them close to the rifle range for that reason. What we will do with an adult dragon, I don’t know. As for the dragonet, it can be inured the same as our birds.”
After a short while, the mother lifted her paw from the chick. The little one immediately began to nose about the floor, dragging its body bit by bit across the floor of the cave. It was mewling and peeping the entire time.
“Esmerelda, are you sure that your baby is a dragon? Doesn’t look like one to me.” And it certainly did not. The hapless little lizard had a short, stubby tail and no evidence of the characteristic, snake-like neck. And it was covered with wrinkles! Maybe the long neck and tail were both hiding under all the crinkly skin. After watching it a while, my eyes began to pick out the dragonish details. The biggest mass of wrinkles were probably the wings, still folded over from being confined to the egg casing. Perhaps the tail would grow as the little beast matured. The tiny creature didn’t seem to have scales, but instead was covered with sparkles. “Baby’s pretty, Girl, all glittery and green.”
Now the dragonet was squeaking louder, sounding rather distressed as it moved across the floor towards Kulloden. The mommy suddenly lifted up and moved over to her little one. My companion pulled her limbs up close to her torso, and seemed to be holding her breath.
“Pretty big bird, don’t you think?” I chuckled as I spoke. Kulloden nodded at me, agog over the busy little baby and its enormous mother.
“Is she safe?” Her eyes were so widely opened that they were half-hidden under the silvery bangs.
“I’d love to say yes, but frankly, we can‘t. That’s where you and the other breeders come in. Watch for anything I should know, according to your experience with the birds.” At the moment, it seemed the dragon was listening to me. She came right up, butting me hard against the formation.
“Hey, girl, stop it! I have to watch out for my baby, too, you know.” I grabbed the huge head and pulled her away from my belly. Then I gently slapped her neck, as a diversion, calling to the soldier.
“Come pet Esmerelda. She needs to learn to trust you, too.” At that moment, the hatchling moved back to its mother, bringing it within my reach. The big one made no move to cover her offspring.
“Wait a bit, Kulloden. She’s not discouraging me. Let’s see if I can touch the baby.
“Esmerelda, do you want me to pet your hatchling? Bring me your baby, girl. Let’s see your baby!” The huge lizard moved aside, turning her neck toward the dragonet. She then turned again towards me, that look of absolute trust and pleasure in her eyes. It spooked me.
“Okay, Esmerelda, I’ll hold your baby, but I certainly hope you are at least a little discerning in your future choice of nannies.” With a deep breath, I reached over to the chick, looking back to the mother and then again to the chick. Didn’t want to lose my life in a premature experiment. When I finally touched the newborn, it felt sort of scratchy, without any of the smoothness of the mother’s armor and no soft, suede like underside. Then I lifted the dragonet with both hands, and pulled it onto my lap, cradling it to give it my warmth. It abruptly stopped its squeaking. It smelled stinky, not at all like the mother, who didn’t have much odor, except a slight musky scent. I resolved to ignore the rancid reek; after all, it was newly hatched, so later it should smell better. Or so I reasoned.
Kulloden came up on the other side, making very soft, tentative hissing sounds to alert the dragon of her presence. She began to pet the scales, never taking her eyes off the massive head.
“Esmé, you hatched a beautiful child! Fini, what’s it like?”
“Well, it doesn’t weigh any where near what I thought. Maybe only five kilos or so. Makes me worry that it might be rather delicate. And the scales are scratchy, that’s why they sparkle in the light. It’s cuddling against my belly, for the warmth, I guess. Come to think of it, the cavern floor is very cold; it’s numbing my butt.”
Sheol was talking at the entrance to the chamber. She and Sebastian brought in a few bags of cave crustaceans. Esmerelda immediately abandoned us all, including her infant, to beg for the treats.
“Good! Bring some for the little one.” Sebastian was frowning at me with marked displeasure, but Sheol simply giggled.
“Don’t need to. And you won’t want to be holding the dragonet when its feeding time comes.” She was laughing now, and looking at the others.
“Why? How could a lizard be a messier eater than a human infant?” Now Sebastian was laughing, too. He motioned to his throat, and Kulloden joined in.
“All right, guys. What’s the joke? Why aren’t we feeding the baby?”
“I’ve already seen the baby eat. Esmé fed her just before you all came in, while you were stacking the weapons. Fini, the dragon feeds her baby the same way a chocobo does.
“Let’s just say you wouldn’t want to kiss either of them on the lips, if they had any.” All three were looking at me, waiting.
After a full five seconds, I realized the answer. Urk. We humans are lucky we don’t have to regurgitate our meals for our infants. I immediately moved the chick over to its mother, who was greedily consuming crustaceans right out of the gathering bag.
All four of us watched as the Green Dragon completely emptied the first sack. Content, she then settled herself flat onto the floor, bending her head down to the hatchling. And in exactly the same way a chocobo feeds a new chick, Esmerelda opened her mouth and dropped a huge glop right onto the little one’s head. For its part, the dragonet had opened its little mouth as wide as it possibly could, much wider than I would have expected feasible. But the chewed, partially digested crustaceans still dripped over the baby, leaving it a stinking, gooey mess. Urk again.
I made a mental note that I shouldn’t put my hands near my face until I could properly wash. My companions were now laughing outright, and I could only join in the fun.
“Well, I have just two questions, then. One, do we even have to find food anymore? And two, anybody know how to sex these things?”
After a short discussion, we decided to continue providing snacks until the dragonet no longer needed regurgitated meals. With chocobos, that would be about a week, but we would have to wait to learn the time period for our new little battle dragon.
As for sexing the little stinker, no one knew. Perhaps we would be able to compare the genitals of our two adults. Or maybe we could detect it using a sexing probe. One thing only was certain. Baby’s sex would not be vitally important until we wanted to breed it, and that would be decades away.
During our conference, the dragons had finished their meals, and were settling in—for a nap, we hoped—cuddling together in the same manner as birds and mammals. That was a load off my mind, especially considering the cold, hard cavern floor.
We collected the remaining feed bags and traveled through the caverns to the Blue Dragon’s chamber.
Somebody say Akasha?
Ken Woods and Adrianna were tending the dragon, with a ring of soldiers watching from what I guessed was supposed to be a safe distance. Everyone seemed to be waiting impatiently, kept in suspense.
The dragon wasn’t moving, its body lying flat on its side, stretched along the wall of the grotto. Alarmed, I ran up to Ken.
“What’s wrong? What happened to our Buddy?” He put a finger to his lips and walked me around to the behemoth lizard’s other side. There, with backs against the cavern wall, were the quartermaster and a tiny, ancient-looking woman, busily working something into the tattered wings of the lindworm. We watched a short while before I realized they were repairing the damage caused by the catastrophic battle with Esmerelda.
Everyone had indeed bought into my little project. We were going to be dragon riders, after all. Day after day, with one triumph after another, I still couldn’t quite grasp that we were likely to succeed. I could feel my eyes tearing up, so I quickly left them and returned to the front of the cave. The time mage followed me closely.
“You okay? Fini, what’s wrong? The Great Blue will be fine. The quartermaster said you sent them. It’s what you wanted, isn’t it? Are you okay?” Adrianna had a tendency to multiply words when she was nervous. She really was very young, despite her considerable magic accomplishments. In order to soothe her worries, I ordered her to report, and she immediately snapped to.
“The quartermaster said you were looking into the possibility of equipping the dragons. Ken got really excited and showed him Buddy’s wingspread. The two of them began discussing Buddy as if he were some sort of racecar or warplane, maybe. Then Sonny called up "his Nana" to look into the possibility of repairing the tatters. She’s making some sort of lace or latticework to fill in and allow the webbing to heal.” Adrianna, too, looked very excited and beamed at my companions.
“This Nana, she’s a veterinarian? From the ranch?” My confusion was making me feel out to sea. So damned many people to remember!
“No, Ma’am. Our Shinju Kameko is a tapestry maker from the old days. A real Grande Dame. Vincent knows her; she’s doing some work for him, too.” I shook my head to clear the cobwebs. Never again would I drink even a little before an afternoon of work. I wandered to the back of the dragon again. The diminutive woman was raucously scolding the much larger quartermaster.
“Dammit, kid, hold it straight! Yeah, like that. No, the way you had it! Just a little while longer, and I’ll have it woven. Sonny, dammit! Can’t you hold it just one minute more?”
“For crying out loud, Nana, don’t your arms ever get tired?” The old woman gave him a quick whap to the side of his head.
“I’ve worked on tapestries all my life. You think I let a few minutes work stymie me? Come on now, suck it up!” I backed away quickly before anyone could notice me watching their little squabble. The old woman’s tone sounded vaguely familiar. Eh, family is family; I figured it just rang familiar because my parents bickered so much.
“Sounds like they’re almost finished, according to Lady Kameko.” Adrianna had been standing right behind me, unperturbed by the exchange.
“They always like that?” She nodded, grinning. I had to admit: it certainly looked that way. In a short while the two of them came around to the front, smiling, with the big guy’s arm around the little lady.
“Nana’s got it! And you know what? She says the weaving will hold, even if the flesh webbing doesn’t. She used to do this stuff all the time!” He hugged the woman again. She whacked him playfully in the chest.
“You kids don’t know anything anymore. It’s not the design that makes dragons fly, it’s their magic and strength. That guy’s so steeped in Akasha, he doesn’t need his wings to fly. He will need them for his dignity in battle!” She was pointing at Buddy and essentially scolding us all for our ignorance. I jumped on her last statements.
“Whoa, Ma’am! What do you know about dragons?” My heart was pounding.
The tiny crone came straight to me and, reaching up, she grabbed both my cheeks in one hand, squishing my mouth in between. She looked shrewdly into each of my eyes and then pulled away and slapped at my belly. I was astounded by the treatment, and was going to ask her what was up, when she started giving me, and everyone else, a dressing down.
“Easy girl, you shouldn’t get so heated up! Find a chair or a rock or something. Hey, what’s the matter with everybody? Why isn’t this woman seated?
“And what are you thinking?” She stabbed her finger at me. “You think that little vest will protect your baby from a dragon if he decides he wants you for a snack?”
I loved every minute of it. I thought this lady must have been the surprise Vincent promised. She grabbed my arm and began to drag me out of the chamber, scolding all the while. I shouldn’t be on my feet so much, why was I working with a dragon? She used to work with dragons, too. What was the matter with everyone? How could they expect the big fellow to trust them if they felt the need to knock it out for a simple repair? Dragons are much stronger than we could ever imagine! None of us knew anything!
“Nana, leave Commander Lindorm alone! She’s in charge here.” Sonny was pleading, then he begged her to settle down and go home.
“Quartermaster, just a minute. The lady can do anything she likes, just as long as she tells me everything she knows about dragons.” I spoke in a low tone as an aside, because I didn’t want the woman to stop her tirade, she was so entertaining.
But the Lady Shinju Kameko heard anyway and turned to scream at her grandson. “You have Yoshikuni’s daughter here and you didn’t tell me? What’s the matter with everybody?” She turned to me again, and poked my sternum, right where it would hurt, making me gasp. “I knew your father and mother.”
I gently interrupted. “They were my grandparents. My father lives in Midgar still.” Undeterred, she smiled and nodded at me.
“Of course. Sometimes I forget how long ago that was. This Great Blue makes me feel alive again, like I‘m ready for anything. That’s the magic, his Akasha! You will know. You should feel it, too.” Was that the magic being worked on our project? The feeling surely increased whenever I touched Esmerelda. Seemed to me I was simply getting over-enthused during the visits.
“Did I hear somebody say Akasha?” A small light emerged from a dark corner. The light became a burning cigarette that was attached to Desirèe. She wore a little smirk and walked right up to Sonny, giving him a whack on the shoulder. Of course, then I remembered. Desirèe would surely claim Akasha as her own element, more so than Lightning. She didn’t need wings to rise from the floor during her limit break. What had she called it? Puddy Whipped? (Hey, this is a PG-rated memoir.)
Sonny responded by slapping down the cigarette and crushing it on the floor. “Sis, for crying out loud, gotta smoke everywhere you go? What about the dragon?”
“If Buddy can’t take a little smoke, how will he fight in battle?” She pulled up another cigarette, but then simply held it in her teeth. I finally took note of the lighter brown hair. The Quartermaster's close crop was also a sandy brown. There had to be some relationship to Cid Highwind, at least as far as Desirèe was concerned. And it was evident in their looks that nearly all these kids were related to the old woman from the old days, who worked with my Grampa.
At that point, I gave orders to my companions to remain with Adrianna and Ken to compare notes on the day’s occurrences. I repeated the request for separate reports from the two breeders. With all the details wrapped up and left to the soldiers, I offered my arm to the little woman and formally invited her to tea in the lodge. She graciously accepted. Then she dismissed all the kids with a quick wave, and pulled me out of the chamber. I knew I finally struck gold; that lady could surely bend my ears for hours without getting tired.
She did not disappoint me, except that she wound down after only an hour, telling me that I needed my rest. I should look for my husband; he had a surprise for me, but she had promised not to spoil it.
By then my head was so full of stories from the old days, the Lady Kameko was right about my needing a nap. But there was no real usable information, her stories were all anecdotal; I made her promise to visit with me another time. She should check with the kids and tell them when she was ready. I certainly hoped I could keep up with her, and remember to ask pertinent questions.
I was so befuddled by the fact that she was not my promised surprise, I forgot to tell her that Vincent wasn’t my husband.
Passings
Forbidden Falls
"Josephine. Lately I've noticed that you disappear for long periods when no one can account for your whereabouts." Vincent was standing by the bed. I had simply thrown myself face down when I arrived, and fell asleep before I hit the coverlet. It took me a full minute to reorient. To this day I still don’t know if he had greeted me or simply started the conversation.
Through the haze I could hear myself answering the charge. "Been visiting the inn. It's a good place to work the PHS or research on the Network, what's left of it. I didn't know you were looking for me. You should call if you want me.”
Even half asleep, I’m always ready for a fight. But Vincent continued to answer in a serene, pleasant voice.
"You weren't offering, and I didn't want to put you off. I finally followed and watched, to be sure you were safe. The innkeeper was pleased to see me and only too happy to keep it between us."
“For a price, no doubt. No wonder he always seems to be snooping." The repartee was finally waking my ability to answer intelligently.
"That was unintended. It was to be kept casual; I'm not happy you noticed."
"Not much more than before. I take only the essentials, leaving nothing behind after a visit. The family closeness sometimes is a little too much for me. You probably noticed that my own is not very huggy-kissy." When we were on the road, my parents answered their door with a semi-automatic: Vincent had knocked but the rifle was intended for me.
"Neither are you. Just the same, it seemed we could use some distance from the militia while at Fruitlands, and I hoped to convince you to spend a little more time with me, when we are both available."
"Vincent, I'm sorry! It just struck me that you were getting reoriented to your family and learning the ways of the militia. And you never asked." He smiled broadly, such a rare occurrence, that it stopped me short. Puzzled, I felt compelled to respond, so I put my arms around his waist, looking up to him. He smiled again and spoke before I could formulate more soothing apologies.
"I agree wholeheartedly." He was still smiling, and now I was getting irritated.
The “Josephine” that was with Vincent was beginning to cloy. She always seemed to want to pacify, mollify or impress him, and the whole act was wearing thin.
"So? What are we going to do about it?" Frankly I wasn't prepared to give up the inn, even if he asked me to do so. And while the upper room at the lodge was very nice, laundry service and all, I desperately needed time away from the Randolphs and the Valentines, the soldiers and the service personnel.
Taking my hand, Vincent raised me from the bed and walked me downstairs. This was surely going to be the secret, so at first I tried to play along with the game. We walked in silence out the door and he steered us purposefully northeast. There was nothing but orchards and vineyards and some woods out that way, and it would be a long walk up the foothills.
“Going to dress the vines, are we?” I certainly hoped we weren’t headed up the foothills to the grapevines.
But Vincent was chuckling, a deep raspy rumble that was more disconcerting than amusing. He turned down a path towards the river, then propelled me with one arm along the bank. Those rushing waters had been dangerous just a few weeks before, when the Spring thaw had caused flooding. Fruitlands would make good use of them later in the Summer, when the fields and orchards would begin to go dry. At that moment, the rapids seemed refreshing and their sounds filled my ears, leaving the base well behind us. Vincent’s rasp cut through the natural white noise.
"Forbidden Falls are up this way. Please don't ever come without me—you should at least bring someone for safety. A sudden downpour makes this walkway impassable; moreover, the entire area freezes in the winter. At no time should anyone come alone." Didn't know if this whole adventure felt romantic or sounded suicidal, so I kept my peace. Still, something wasn't right.
"Vincent. Looks like a very well-used path. Are you playing an elaborate joke on me?" I regretted it as soon as I said it. Couldn't imagine Vincent having any sense of humor.
"Always the alert hunter, Josephine? I should have guessed that you would notice the signs of recent activity. Come then, let's not keep you in suspense." We walked right through a small wood bounded on both sides by low hills. I had never passed through it before.
He took me into a lovely glen, where the river tumbled over a waterfall not more than 12 meters high. The rising mist hung about us like a very thin fog. We were completely alone and feeling miles away from anything else on the Planet.
"That was the more direct route. A relatively dry Spring made it usable for our workers. There are more falls farther up the mountains just beyond the vineyards; this being the last on the river’s way to the sea. You and I can come here to be by ourselves. Many years ago, my parents enjoyed this as their own haven from family and work. Later in the summer the mist will lift and we can take advantage of the coolness." The touch of Paradise on the edge of the military base amazed me. Except for the falls, it was the perfect rest area.
"Will we pitch a tent? Or sleep under the stars?"
Again the enigmatic smile. "If you like. A fire would be more inviting on the colder nights. And a warm bath for you, if you promise not to overdo it." At that point I turned to him, shaking my head.
"What are you talking about? And if these are Forbidden Falls, how could we sleep, knowing a storm instantly renders the place unsafe?" The pleasure of all the secrecy had worn thin. I was confused and began to think he was baiting me.
Vincent moved us a few more steps away from both the pathway and the falls themselves. He gently placed his hand under my chin and lifted my face, so I would look up and see the building a few meters away. The varnished beams of the roof were shining in the sunlight, mist creating a twinkling aura around it.
"Josephine, I once told you that my parents kept a home here in Nibelheim. The lodge on base was not that home. This is, or was, their home, what's left of it." He led me through another copse of evergreens and into a wild, weedy garden surrounding a tall stone building that was framed in heavy dark beams.
"Vincent, it's a tiny castle!" Then I remembered the old tapestry maker. "I'll bet it's full of hangings, isn't it?" He wasn't smiling any more, just looking a little resigned.
"You do have a way of meeting all and sundry in the towns you visit. Somehow you talk to everyone, even the more obscure denizens. Lady Kameko reported to me immediately after she dismissed you to our room. She knew I wanted utmost secrecy, and was afraid you might guess the rest."
"I did not. And I am enchanted! Is it yours?" He nodded.
"Ours, if you like it. The walkway from the base--the less direct but usually safer path--has yet to be cleared. Now that you've seen it, we can begin work to reopen the trail and set paving stones before the winter." He indicated another, denser, wooded area that I assumed wound back to the base. "You will need to use that trail in the meantime. We should take it later, together.
"Josephine, you must never come here in secret, because there is another access, although it is hidden by the falls themselves. That, and the way we just came, make this place unsafe for you to be alone."
"Then how will we get our privacy?" My hopes of a little hideaway were dashed. If I were there without Vincent, an escort would take his place. “How can we stay by ourselves?”
"The Fruitlands are monitored by a radar in the hills. These paths are included in that system. You see, Josephine, this place has been here all along, just unused. Lying fallow, if you will. The patrols move around the periphery, not entering the glen or this clearing, although they have occasionally come in to eliminate unwanted animals and would-be burglars.
"As long as it is known that we, or you, are here, you will be kept safe. Simply notify Central Defense of your intentions. You know of him already: he‘s the Quartermaster."
"Please, Vincent. I can't stand it; we've got to go inside!”
The Tapestries
From the outside, the manor seemed very small, but inside the rooms were good-sized, sparsely furnished and collected together as living spaces. They were not partitioned into closed quadrangles, but rather left open for light and air. The place was designed for a very small family. It was easy to see how it could become an escape from the world. While not exactly Spartan, there was nothing at all fussy in the place. Shutters rather than curtains, no extra cushions or pillows, and the clean lines of the wooden framing beams were echoed in the furniture. Heavy carpeting covered the stone floors in the living spaces and dry reed or rush mats ran along the transition areas.
In short, it was a man’s world. Once I had mentally categorized what I saw, the details became more identifiable. The tapestries were the main attraction. The first floor was actually above ground level, and was dominated by a very large fireplace, with hangings on each side of the stone mantel framing. At left was an elaborately woven demon and on the right a stylized dragon.
“The tapestry on the left has been in my family for generations. I recently
acquired the one on the right especially for you, Dragon Lady.” He wrapped his arms around me from behind and murmured the last words into my ear. I was touched by his thoughtfulness, and marveled that he managed all of it without my knowledge.
“The Lady Kameko wove it for you?”
“No, Josephine, I purchased it from her, completely refurbished; it‘s a few decades old. Her restorations were considered quite the prize even a short time ago. Lately, ones like this have become prohibitively expensive, all the more so since Shinra‘s demise.
“She is creating another for our master room upstairs. It will likely take weeks, even months, all highly stylized and representing our different personae. Your presence has created quite a stir, coming after my resurrection from the basement in the mansion.
“With her current good health and a little luck, perhaps we can have her create one for our anticipated new arrival.” He patted my swelling belly, then tilted me off balance, shushing me when I began to protest. He lifted me in his arms, and carried me up the masonry steps, to a second floor as spacious and airy as the first.
The second floor layout was similar to the first, only the kitchen/dining area was echoed in an unadorned bath/dressing suite. We surveyed it from the landing; it was in stark contrast to the lovely bedroom area. That had a magnificently carved bed and looked opulent, almost regal.
“Um, where do these stairs go? An upper storage area?” I was mentally calculating the height of the building from what little I had seen outdoors.
“There is one more floor, and another set of stairs leading up to the roof. In the very hot days of summer, my parents would enjoy the solitude and the view of the falls. The upper room was originally used to store weapons, in case of attack.
“This is a very old building; we called it The Keep. When I was little, my family used to say that the surrounding trees were much more modern than the manor itself. How old, I really don’t know. So you finally noticed.” He nodded his approval of my automatic exclamation of pleasure. Or maybe he simply was glad we would soon finish his survey of the castle. He took my hand and brought me to the object of our brief tour. By then I was giggling like a little kid.
“You are really a bit of a sneak, aren’t you?” I had just noticed the folding table with all the makings of a light lunch, carafe of wine included. “Dr. Matthew would not approve.” I was secretly gloating, but the merry gleam in his deep maroon eyes gave away Vincent’s opinion of the earlier, solemn pronouncements. He answered dismissively, while pouring our drinks.
“My parents had wine with nearly every meal. In fact, my mother’s family provided beer for her to drink when I was born. It was considered common wisdom that malt beverages were an excellent prescription for nursing mothers. Good, homemade potables in strict moderation cannot be harmful to the human body.” His voice again betrayed his disdain for modern notions of sobriety. For my part, I vowed to drink no more than a half glass of any alcoholic beverage until after the baby was weaned. If I were allowed to nurse, that is. A pang of bleak regret went through me; this baby would not be mine alone after birth. How I would surrender the infant to the Nursery? In Nibelheim, childcare was not left in the hands of amateurs, even experienced mothers like me. I shook off the sadness and cuddled against my host for solace.
Together we fell on the cold meats and varied greens with gusto; the walk had sharpened our appetites. Fresh bread and the riper berries of late Spring rounded out the dinner. It was a delightful meal made festive by an excellent cabernet.
“Chocolate and hot beverage later, Josephine. Come.”
“To where? I thought…” But his fingers were on my lips before I could finish. We then climbed the stairs to the upper level. Except for the elaborate closet of built-in gun racks, foot lockers and ammunition boxes, the room was unfurnished and unadorned.
“We can do what you like with this room. A nursery, perhaps? Not much light with these tiny windows, but the size allows for a great deal of potential.” I agreed, a little overwhelmed by his apparent expectation that I would provide the impetus to renovate and redecorate the place. And again he took my arm and propelled me up the final flight of steps, out into the cool of a late Spring evening.
The roof was slightly pitched down towards crenellations and smaller openings lower on the wall, along the edge. The central portion was quite small, but an entirely adequate vantage point from where one could enjoy the falls.
And nothing else. Trees hemmed us in from all other angles. It was nearly impossible to look up the hillside for all the woods to the north. To the southeast the garden spread to the edge of the evergreens that separated us from the river and due south would have to be the base. I could see nothing but forest on three sides.
Behind me, my lover was removing my wrap, before I could stop him or even object.
“It’s a little cool to be taking off the capes, maybe?” We were warm enough downstairs, but the outside was turning cool and damp. Vincent had already swept his own off his shoulders and smoothed it out on the roof. He then took mine and did the same, making a little red and black mat for us.
“We can think of something to help us stay warm.” He murmured at me in the silky tone that I was finally beginning to recognize as his signal for intimacy.
“You’re probably right, although I also think we should save some for that lovely boudoir, too.” No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t mimic his purring.
He didn’t seem to mind. He was busying himself with the various parts of my uniform, and nodded to me to do the same. It was more fun to undo his and let him struggle with mine. After a while we had it all sorted out and could feel the very slight mist that found us from beyond the copse of evergreens.
The chilling wetness left me giggly, and I worried that Vincent would be annoyed, but he seemed to relish the unusual circumstances. We were soon fully involved with one another’s pleasures and the delight of our newfound solitude.
Before too long, the chill of the evening drove us downstairs into our tiny, private citadel. We wiled away the first part of the night exploring the kitchen, then building and maintaining a small fire on the huge hearth, until we retired to the fancy bed.
It felt wonderful to be by ourselves for the first time since we met. I dreaded the morning, when he would surely be gone. The house was a fortress, and not really very cozy; it was very much Vincent’s place, marking him as a man of substance and property. One could easily see where he got his nobility: the Keep suited him: he belonged to it as surely as weapons and armor belonged in that upper keeping room.
I was wrong to dread sunrise. Vincent woke me in the morning and led me downstairs to hot coffee. I responded by making a full breakfast. Just the smell of his coffee was still an invitation to queasiness. A little toasted bread was the remedy for me, so I saw to it my lover was properly fed, while I scouted out fresh fruit and dairy for myself.
We discussed our plans for the upcoming childbirth. Not that we would have many options. What was best for the baby would be determined by the pregnancy itself. Our little one was completely in charge of the whole process going on in my body. Afterwards, he or she would be taken into the Crèche right on base: our child was also everyone else’s ward. I resolved to try to reconcile myself to the local tradition, even though the very thought of leaving the baby in those first few days appalled me. It wasn’t difficult to reason through it: all the troops faced the same expectations; and so our children belonged to the militia. I could wrap my brain around the idea that nearly all the soldiers were part-time parents, but it was much more difficult to wrap my heart around leaving the baby in the communal nursery.
Vincent stroked and soothed with visions of me as a Grande Dame in my later years. In time, I might very likely be another Lady Kameko, with dozens of descendants right there in Nibelheim.
Would Vincent be the Paterfamilias? Would we grow old together? He assured me we would, but I was not so certain. There were times he seemed my elder, especially in his old-fashioned attitudes, but I knew differently. His was the body of a young man entering his prime. What neither of us knew was just how old he could get, or if he would age at all. We left the discussion at that.
Then I wandered through the floors, straightening and collecting up clutter, restoring the rooms to their masculine austerity. When the place was spotless, we walked out to the mostly obscured pathway through the woods to the compound.
Our continuing solitude was a catalyst for even more conversation. Vincent began to talk about our future together. The Keep would always be a place we could share, to enjoy as a place away from the rest of the base. We could drop our weapons at the Armory, or we could have special weapons just for the Keep.
I wasn‘t ready to complicate the place with weapons, but I knew that it wouldn‘t do to leave ourselves defenseless, especially after we had a child. Vincent once again pointed out that we were never quite alone, that the radar continually monitored our presence.
The realization hit. “Even when we are making love?”
“Only when we were on the roof.” He was quick to promise me that our privacy was assured inside the stone building.
“But not on the roof? Are you joking?” But I knew the answer already. Vincent never joked. “Were they watching us? Could Sonny tell what we were doing?”
“Josephine, he could surely guess what we might be doing any time we are alone. As would whoever spells him during the evenings. Sonny was probably not watching the radar last night.” He was suddenly impatient with me. “Did you not think we would be monitored? Right after I explained the situation to you?” I had to admit I didn’t consider all the ramifications of the defense system.
“But can they detect our activity?” My prodding seemed to exasperate him.
“Please, Josephine, if you are so concerned, you should visit the Quartermaster yourself and review the equipment! As Commander, you are in an excellent position to do so.
“Let me remind you of another thing: our child will be born into the military community here. He or she will have a right to protection. The militia will demand it. I demand it.” His face hardened as he was speaking. It was another warning to me: the baby was not mine alone.
At that moment we finally broke through the trees and emerged into the bright sunny morning on the very busy base. Vincent turned unsmiling to me, his eyes red with challenge.
Cherish and Protect
The conversation had taken an unexpectedly ugly turn.
Vincent’s sudden coldness surprised me, because we had been happily discussing the impending birth and what we might expect. My heart had been feeling so full—what with the pregnancy and separate living quarters now a reality—it overflowed and over-ruled my common sense. Somewhat besieged by all the new information, I had begun to project into the future, and to speak before analyzing what I was about to say. Vincent’s way of thinking was not at all my way: he thought I was being dense.
So I hoped to please him, to recapture the romantic mood of our night together in the castle.
“You know, Vincent, now we may want to make our union more official, for the baby’s sake.” The ruby color of his eyes intensified, making me freeze, wondering if at the moment, I could possibly say anything right.
“Josephine, you still don’t know what that means, do you? You are not in the least prepared for a permanent relationship, and yet you propose marriage!” My stomach lurched; I decided to remain silent and hear him out. Still furious, he turned away, facing outward towards the open grasslands that led to the sea.
“Do you remember the time Captain Cid interrupted a conversation we had on the Highwind? We were discussing these Damascene bands. They were made for us by Hildegard Randolph, the base’s original arms maker. She was the one I called a genius, an artisan of the highest order. She was charmed by the notion that you and I might wed, and crafted them as a gift to us.
“Cid recognized them for what they are, and foolishly let drop the joking allusion to Nibelheim’s old, almost forgotten marriage customs. Fortunately, you were no wiser for the reference.” He shook his head ruefully, but I was relieved that he was finally explaining the exchange. Because it was such a mystery to me, I can still remember it word for word, even now. I piped up.
“Vincent, I asked Barrett and Reeve to explain the term. That’s just a bit of ancient history, isn’t it?” Now he turned back to me, pointing towards himself.
“One could say that I am a holdover of that time. The main difference between you and me would be that you have had the benefit of experiencing the changes wrought by the last thirty years. And you have worked in Shinra, where both men and women were expected to contribute as equally as possible.
“My youth was different. Especially here, a lady provided a home for her husband. In return, the man dedicated his life to protecting and supporting his wife and family. And nearly every woman I have ever known still needs that protection, especially expectant mothers and those not benefiting from martial arts training.
“And, Josephine, do you know what a ‘Nibelheim Nuptial’ really is? Or was?” At this point, there was no way I would interrupt his explanation, even though I was afraid to find out. I’d hardly shook my head before he went on, his voice becoming a deep, grating growl.
“Centuries ago, here on Central Continent, men and women were warriors, all in constant combat against one another. There were even entire tribes of females, fierce fighters who lived apart, leaving all infant boys outside their village right after birth. The male-dominated clans sought out the abandoned infants, rescued and raised them.
“The separated clans had to raid the others in order to increase and survive. The rest lived in fear of warriors that lured mates only for impregnation and subsequently slew them. The foundlings were reared to avenge their abandonment, as enemies of the women. As a result there was slaughter on both sides, occurring at regular intervals. Even today the population centers on this continent remain remote from one another. In some places the animosity between the sexes never has completely abated. Our Captain Cid might very well be considered such a remnant, an heir to the attitude. You probably saw that his engineers and workers were male, all except Shera. He treats her badly because that is accepted in RocketTown. There in the northwest quadrant, they are a population apart.
“My ancestors would intentionally raid the villages on other side of the mountains. It was considered a mystical quest to pass through Mt. Nibel and find a wife, a coming of age that marked a teenaged boy’s transition to manhood. He was required to kidnap and subdue a woman. This was a daunting undertaking, deliberately chosen for its dangers, and the young man always went alone. It fell only to those who were considered skilled in war craft and strong enough to survive it. Families such as ours were considered elite, carrying the newer bloodlines stolen from the warrior-women’s tribes.
“You must have noticed the dark hair common around here. Lighter brown and blonde is more prevalent in RocketTown, and among all the peoples of the northwest shore. The males there never let go of the antipathy for womankind. Before the times of mass communication, Nibelheim thought of them as the pale conquered ones, what Yuffie might call sore losers. The ages have smoothed over those differences but some vestiges of the old customs remained.
“Here in the Nibel area, the prisoner was brought before the community and forced into marriage, in a ceremony called a ‘briding.’ In some cases, this was later done to cement alliances as the clans began to cooperate more. The bride was an object, not actively participating. The groom simply held the woman and put the ring on her finger. Are you familiar with the vows?” I remembered Nora’s words.
“Cherish and protect? Sounds good. Seems like a couple should do that, even today.” I spoke knowing it sounded lame: I should learn when to just shut up. The tone in Vincent’s voice seconded that notion. He chuckled humorlessly, and went on.
“The pledge wasn’t mutual, and the entire vow is this: To cherish and protect, instruct and correct. Pronounced only by the groom. A man expected to teach his prisoner to become a proper wife. A modicum of violence was often necessary, and considered acceptable when the bride didn‘t cooperate.” It was difficult to tell if he was deadpanning it, or really serious. I silently searched his face, especially his eyes, looking for a hint, while his meaning sank in.
Then I began chuckling, unable to keep contain my amusement. The very idea of someone like Vincent teaching anyone like me or Hildy or especially Nora how to act as a submissive wife and mother was just too much.
“You are joking, aren’t you? Are you trying to tell me that I need someone to teach me how to behave? Have you forgotten who revived you? Honestly, for a while I thought you were serious!” The whole narrative was nothing shy of hilarious; and because I was fighting to control myself, I could barely find the breath to speak.
He glared sourly at me a moment, then turned and left me laughing on the edge of the woods. It felt really wrong to let it go at that, but I couldn’t stop giggling. I hadn’t laughed in ages, not really, and it seemed like it should feel good. Surely the overwhelming mirth was cleansing, but by the time I had settled down enough to even be able to talk, Vincent was gone. It would be days before I would even want to speak to him, let alone approach him as a lover, and certainly not as a wife.
We wouldn’t see each again other for weeks.
End of Book Two.
"Josephine. Lately I've noticed that you disappear for long periods when no one can account for your whereabouts." Vincent was standing by the bed. I had simply thrown myself face down when I arrived, and fell asleep before I hit the coverlet. It took me a full minute to reorient. To this day I still don’t know if he had greeted me or simply started the conversation.
Through the haze I could hear myself answering the charge. "Been visiting the inn. It's a good place to work the PHS or research on the Network, what's left of it. I didn't know you were looking for me. You should call if you want me.”
Even half asleep, I’m always ready for a fight. But Vincent continued to answer in a serene, pleasant voice.
"You weren't offering, and I didn't want to put you off. I finally followed and watched, to be sure you were safe. The innkeeper was pleased to see me and only too happy to keep it between us."
“For a price, no doubt. No wonder he always seems to be snooping." The repartee was finally waking my ability to answer intelligently.
"That was unintended. It was to be kept casual; I'm not happy you noticed."
"Not much more than before. I take only the essentials, leaving nothing behind after a visit. The family closeness sometimes is a little too much for me. You probably noticed that my own is not very huggy-kissy." When we were on the road, my parents answered their door with a semi-automatic: Vincent had knocked but the rifle was intended for me.
"Neither are you. Just the same, it seemed we could use some distance from the militia while at Fruitlands, and I hoped to convince you to spend a little more time with me, when we are both available."
"Vincent, I'm sorry! It just struck me that you were getting reoriented to your family and learning the ways of the militia. And you never asked." He smiled broadly, such a rare occurrence, that it stopped me short. Puzzled, I felt compelled to respond, so I put my arms around his waist, looking up to him. He smiled again and spoke before I could formulate more soothing apologies.
"I agree wholeheartedly." He was still smiling, and now I was getting irritated.
The “Josephine” that was with Vincent was beginning to cloy. She always seemed to want to pacify, mollify or impress him, and the whole act was wearing thin.
"So? What are we going to do about it?" Frankly I wasn't prepared to give up the inn, even if he asked me to do so. And while the upper room at the lodge was very nice, laundry service and all, I desperately needed time away from the Randolphs and the Valentines, the soldiers and the service personnel.
Taking my hand, Vincent raised me from the bed and walked me downstairs. This was surely going to be the secret, so at first I tried to play along with the game. We walked in silence out the door and he steered us purposefully northeast. There was nothing but orchards and vineyards and some woods out that way, and it would be a long walk up the foothills.
“Going to dress the vines, are we?” I certainly hoped we weren’t headed up the foothills to the grapevines.
But Vincent was chuckling, a deep raspy rumble that was more disconcerting than amusing. He turned down a path towards the river, then propelled me with one arm along the bank. Those rushing waters had been dangerous just a few weeks before, when the Spring thaw had caused flooding. Fruitlands would make good use of them later in the Summer, when the fields and orchards would begin to go dry. At that moment, the rapids seemed refreshing and their sounds filled my ears, leaving the base well behind us. Vincent’s rasp cut through the natural white noise.
"Forbidden Falls are up this way. Please don't ever come without me—you should at least bring someone for safety. A sudden downpour makes this walkway impassable; moreover, the entire area freezes in the winter. At no time should anyone come alone." Didn't know if this whole adventure felt romantic or sounded suicidal, so I kept my peace. Still, something wasn't right.
"Vincent. Looks like a very well-used path. Are you playing an elaborate joke on me?" I regretted it as soon as I said it. Couldn't imagine Vincent having any sense of humor.
"Always the alert hunter, Josephine? I should have guessed that you would notice the signs of recent activity. Come then, let's not keep you in suspense." We walked right through a small wood bounded on both sides by low hills. I had never passed through it before.
He took me into a lovely glen, where the river tumbled over a waterfall not more than 12 meters high. The rising mist hung about us like a very thin fog. We were completely alone and feeling miles away from anything else on the Planet.
"That was the more direct route. A relatively dry Spring made it usable for our workers. There are more falls farther up the mountains just beyond the vineyards; this being the last on the river’s way to the sea. You and I can come here to be by ourselves. Many years ago, my parents enjoyed this as their own haven from family and work. Later in the summer the mist will lift and we can take advantage of the coolness." The touch of Paradise on the edge of the military base amazed me. Except for the falls, it was the perfect rest area.
"Will we pitch a tent? Or sleep under the stars?"
Again the enigmatic smile. "If you like. A fire would be more inviting on the colder nights. And a warm bath for you, if you promise not to overdo it." At that point I turned to him, shaking my head.
"What are you talking about? And if these are Forbidden Falls, how could we sleep, knowing a storm instantly renders the place unsafe?" The pleasure of all the secrecy had worn thin. I was confused and began to think he was baiting me.
Vincent moved us a few more steps away from both the pathway and the falls themselves. He gently placed his hand under my chin and lifted my face, so I would look up and see the building a few meters away. The varnished beams of the roof were shining in the sunlight, mist creating a twinkling aura around it.
"Josephine, I once told you that my parents kept a home here in Nibelheim. The lodge on base was not that home. This is, or was, their home, what's left of it." He led me through another copse of evergreens and into a wild, weedy garden surrounding a tall stone building that was framed in heavy dark beams.
"Vincent, it's a tiny castle!" Then I remembered the old tapestry maker. "I'll bet it's full of hangings, isn't it?" He wasn't smiling any more, just looking a little resigned.
"You do have a way of meeting all and sundry in the towns you visit. Somehow you talk to everyone, even the more obscure denizens. Lady Kameko reported to me immediately after she dismissed you to our room. She knew I wanted utmost secrecy, and was afraid you might guess the rest."
"I did not. And I am enchanted! Is it yours?" He nodded.
"Ours, if you like it. The walkway from the base--the less direct but usually safer path--has yet to be cleared. Now that you've seen it, we can begin work to reopen the trail and set paving stones before the winter." He indicated another, denser, wooded area that I assumed wound back to the base. "You will need to use that trail in the meantime. We should take it later, together.
"Josephine, you must never come here in secret, because there is another access, although it is hidden by the falls themselves. That, and the way we just came, make this place unsafe for you to be alone."
"Then how will we get our privacy?" My hopes of a little hideaway were dashed. If I were there without Vincent, an escort would take his place. “How can we stay by ourselves?”
"The Fruitlands are monitored by a radar in the hills. These paths are included in that system. You see, Josephine, this place has been here all along, just unused. Lying fallow, if you will. The patrols move around the periphery, not entering the glen or this clearing, although they have occasionally come in to eliminate unwanted animals and would-be burglars.
"As long as it is known that we, or you, are here, you will be kept safe. Simply notify Central Defense of your intentions. You know of him already: he‘s the Quartermaster."
"Please, Vincent. I can't stand it; we've got to go inside!”
The Tapestries
From the outside, the manor seemed very small, but inside the rooms were good-sized, sparsely furnished and collected together as living spaces. They were not partitioned into closed quadrangles, but rather left open for light and air. The place was designed for a very small family. It was easy to see how it could become an escape from the world. While not exactly Spartan, there was nothing at all fussy in the place. Shutters rather than curtains, no extra cushions or pillows, and the clean lines of the wooden framing beams were echoed in the furniture. Heavy carpeting covered the stone floors in the living spaces and dry reed or rush mats ran along the transition areas.
In short, it was a man’s world. Once I had mentally categorized what I saw, the details became more identifiable. The tapestries were the main attraction. The first floor was actually above ground level, and was dominated by a very large fireplace, with hangings on each side of the stone mantel framing. At left was an elaborately woven demon and on the right a stylized dragon.
“The tapestry on the left has been in my family for generations. I recently
acquired the one on the right especially for you, Dragon Lady.” He wrapped his arms around me from behind and murmured the last words into my ear. I was touched by his thoughtfulness, and marveled that he managed all of it without my knowledge.“The Lady Kameko wove it for you?”
“No, Josephine, I purchased it from her, completely refurbished; it‘s a few decades old. Her restorations were considered quite the prize even a short time ago. Lately, ones like this have become prohibitively expensive, all the more so since Shinra‘s demise.
“She is creating another for our master room upstairs. It will likely take weeks, even months, all highly stylized and representing our different personae. Your presence has created quite a stir, coming after my resurrection from the basement in the mansion.
“With her current good health and a little luck, perhaps we can have her create one for our anticipated new arrival.” He patted my swelling belly, then tilted me off balance, shushing me when I began to protest. He lifted me in his arms, and carried me up the masonry steps, to a second floor as spacious and airy as the first.
The second floor layout was similar to the first, only the kitchen/dining area was echoed in an unadorned bath/dressing suite. We surveyed it from the landing; it was in stark contrast to the lovely bedroom area. That had a magnificently carved bed and looked opulent, almost regal.
“Um, where do these stairs go? An upper storage area?” I was mentally calculating the height of the building from what little I had seen outdoors.
“There is one more floor, and another set of stairs leading up to the roof. In the very hot days of summer, my parents would enjoy the solitude and the view of the falls. The upper room was originally used to store weapons, in case of attack.
“This is a very old building; we called it The Keep. When I was little, my family used to say that the surrounding trees were much more modern than the manor itself. How old, I really don’t know. So you finally noticed.” He nodded his approval of my automatic exclamation of pleasure. Or maybe he simply was glad we would soon finish his survey of the castle. He took my hand and brought me to the object of our brief tour. By then I was giggling like a little kid.
“You are really a bit of a sneak, aren’t you?” I had just noticed the folding table with all the makings of a light lunch, carafe of wine included. “Dr. Matthew would not approve.” I was secretly gloating, but the merry gleam in his deep maroon eyes gave away Vincent’s opinion of the earlier, solemn pronouncements. He answered dismissively, while pouring our drinks.
“My parents had wine with nearly every meal. In fact, my mother’s family provided beer for her to drink when I was born. It was considered common wisdom that malt beverages were an excellent prescription for nursing mothers. Good, homemade potables in strict moderation cannot be harmful to the human body.” His voice again betrayed his disdain for modern notions of sobriety. For my part, I vowed to drink no more than a half glass of any alcoholic beverage until after the baby was weaned. If I were allowed to nurse, that is. A pang of bleak regret went through me; this baby would not be mine alone after birth. How I would surrender the infant to the Nursery? In Nibelheim, childcare was not left in the hands of amateurs, even experienced mothers like me. I shook off the sadness and cuddled against my host for solace.
Together we fell on the cold meats and varied greens with gusto; the walk had sharpened our appetites. Fresh bread and the riper berries of late Spring rounded out the dinner. It was a delightful meal made festive by an excellent cabernet.
“Chocolate and hot beverage later, Josephine. Come.”
“To where? I thought…” But his fingers were on my lips before I could finish. We then climbed the stairs to the upper level. Except for the elaborate closet of built-in gun racks, foot lockers and ammunition boxes, the room was unfurnished and unadorned.
“We can do what you like with this room. A nursery, perhaps? Not much light with these tiny windows, but the size allows for a great deal of potential.” I agreed, a little overwhelmed by his apparent expectation that I would provide the impetus to renovate and redecorate the place. And again he took my arm and propelled me up the final flight of steps, out into the cool of a late Spring evening.
The roof was slightly pitched down towards crenellations and smaller openings lower on the wall, along the edge. The central portion was quite small, but an entirely adequate vantage point from where one could enjoy the falls.
And nothing else. Trees hemmed us in from all other angles. It was nearly impossible to look up the hillside for all the woods to the north. To the southeast the garden spread to the edge of the evergreens that separated us from the river and due south would have to be the base. I could see nothing but forest on three sides.
Behind me, my lover was removing my wrap, before I could stop him or even object.
“It’s a little cool to be taking off the capes, maybe?” We were warm enough downstairs, but the outside was turning cool and damp. Vincent had already swept his own off his shoulders and smoothed it out on the roof. He then took mine and did the same, making a little red and black mat for us.
“We can think of something to help us stay warm.” He murmured at me in the silky tone that I was finally beginning to recognize as his signal for intimacy.
“You’re probably right, although I also think we should save some for that lovely boudoir, too.” No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t mimic his purring.
He didn’t seem to mind. He was busying himself with the various parts of my uniform, and nodded to me to do the same. It was more fun to undo his and let him struggle with mine. After a while we had it all sorted out and could feel the very slight mist that found us from beyond the copse of evergreens.
The chilling wetness left me giggly, and I worried that Vincent would be annoyed, but he seemed to relish the unusual circumstances. We were soon fully involved with one another’s pleasures and the delight of our newfound solitude.
Before too long, the chill of the evening drove us downstairs into our tiny, private citadel. We wiled away the first part of the night exploring the kitchen, then building and maintaining a small fire on the huge hearth, until we retired to the fancy bed.
It felt wonderful to be by ourselves for the first time since we met. I dreaded the morning, when he would surely be gone. The house was a fortress, and not really very cozy; it was very much Vincent’s place, marking him as a man of substance and property. One could easily see where he got his nobility: the Keep suited him: he belonged to it as surely as weapons and armor belonged in that upper keeping room.
I was wrong to dread sunrise. Vincent woke me in the morning and led me downstairs to hot coffee. I responded by making a full breakfast. Just the smell of his coffee was still an invitation to queasiness. A little toasted bread was the remedy for me, so I saw to it my lover was properly fed, while I scouted out fresh fruit and dairy for myself.
We discussed our plans for the upcoming childbirth. Not that we would have many options. What was best for the baby would be determined by the pregnancy itself. Our little one was completely in charge of the whole process going on in my body. Afterwards, he or she would be taken into the Crèche right on base: our child was also everyone else’s ward. I resolved to try to reconcile myself to the local tradition, even though the very thought of leaving the baby in those first few days appalled me. It wasn’t difficult to reason through it: all the troops faced the same expectations; and so our children belonged to the militia. I could wrap my brain around the idea that nearly all the soldiers were part-time parents, but it was much more difficult to wrap my heart around leaving the baby in the communal nursery.
Vincent stroked and soothed with visions of me as a Grande Dame in my later years. In time, I might very likely be another Lady Kameko, with dozens of descendants right there in Nibelheim.
Would Vincent be the Paterfamilias? Would we grow old together? He assured me we would, but I was not so certain. There were times he seemed my elder, especially in his old-fashioned attitudes, but I knew differently. His was the body of a young man entering his prime. What neither of us knew was just how old he could get, or if he would age at all. We left the discussion at that.
Then I wandered through the floors, straightening and collecting up clutter, restoring the rooms to their masculine austerity. When the place was spotless, we walked out to the mostly obscured pathway through the woods to the compound.
Our continuing solitude was a catalyst for even more conversation. Vincent began to talk about our future together. The Keep would always be a place we could share, to enjoy as a place away from the rest of the base. We could drop our weapons at the Armory, or we could have special weapons just for the Keep.
I wasn‘t ready to complicate the place with weapons, but I knew that it wouldn‘t do to leave ourselves defenseless, especially after we had a child. Vincent once again pointed out that we were never quite alone, that the radar continually monitored our presence.
The realization hit. “Even when we are making love?”
“Only when we were on the roof.” He was quick to promise me that our privacy was assured inside the stone building.
“But not on the roof? Are you joking?” But I knew the answer already. Vincent never joked. “Were they watching us? Could Sonny tell what we were doing?”
“Josephine, he could surely guess what we might be doing any time we are alone. As would whoever spells him during the evenings. Sonny was probably not watching the radar last night.” He was suddenly impatient with me. “Did you not think we would be monitored? Right after I explained the situation to you?” I had to admit I didn’t consider all the ramifications of the defense system.
“But can they detect our activity?” My prodding seemed to exasperate him.
“Please, Josephine, if you are so concerned, you should visit the Quartermaster yourself and review the equipment! As Commander, you are in an excellent position to do so.
“Let me remind you of another thing: our child will be born into the military community here. He or she will have a right to protection. The militia will demand it. I demand it.” His face hardened as he was speaking. It was another warning to me: the baby was not mine alone.
At that moment we finally broke through the trees and emerged into the bright sunny morning on the very busy base. Vincent turned unsmiling to me, his eyes red with challenge.
Cherish and Protect
The conversation had taken an unexpectedly ugly turn.
Vincent’s sudden coldness surprised me, because we had been happily discussing the impending birth and what we might expect. My heart had been feeling so full—what with the pregnancy and separate living quarters now a reality—it overflowed and over-ruled my common sense. Somewhat besieged by all the new information, I had begun to project into the future, and to speak before analyzing what I was about to say. Vincent’s way of thinking was not at all my way: he thought I was being dense.
So I hoped to please him, to recapture the romantic mood of our night together in the castle.
“You know, Vincent, now we may want to make our union more official, for the baby’s sake.” The ruby color of his eyes intensified, making me freeze, wondering if at the moment, I could possibly say anything right.
“Josephine, you still don’t know what that means, do you? You are not in the least prepared for a permanent relationship, and yet you propose marriage!” My stomach lurched; I decided to remain silent and hear him out. Still furious, he turned away, facing outward towards the open grasslands that led to the sea.
“Do you remember the time Captain Cid interrupted a conversation we had on the Highwind? We were discussing these Damascene bands. They were made for us by Hildegard Randolph, the base’s original arms maker. She was the one I called a genius, an artisan of the highest order. She was charmed by the notion that you and I might wed, and crafted them as a gift to us.
“Cid recognized them for what they are, and foolishly let drop the joking allusion to Nibelheim’s old, almost forgotten marriage customs. Fortunately, you were no wiser for the reference.” He shook his head ruefully, but I was relieved that he was finally explaining the exchange. Because it was such a mystery to me, I can still remember it word for word, even now. I piped up.
“Vincent, I asked Barrett and Reeve to explain the term. That’s just a bit of ancient history, isn’t it?” Now he turned back to me, pointing towards himself.
“One could say that I am a holdover of that time. The main difference between you and me would be that you have had the benefit of experiencing the changes wrought by the last thirty years. And you have worked in Shinra, where both men and women were expected to contribute as equally as possible.
“My youth was different. Especially here, a lady provided a home for her husband. In return, the man dedicated his life to protecting and supporting his wife and family. And nearly every woman I have ever known still needs that protection, especially expectant mothers and those not benefiting from martial arts training.
“And, Josephine, do you know what a ‘Nibelheim Nuptial’ really is? Or was?” At this point, there was no way I would interrupt his explanation, even though I was afraid to find out. I’d hardly shook my head before he went on, his voice becoming a deep, grating growl.
“Centuries ago, here on Central Continent, men and women were warriors, all in constant combat against one another. There were even entire tribes of females, fierce fighters who lived apart, leaving all infant boys outside their village right after birth. The male-dominated clans sought out the abandoned infants, rescued and raised them.
“The separated clans had to raid the others in order to increase and survive. The rest lived in fear of warriors that lured mates only for impregnation and subsequently slew them. The foundlings were reared to avenge their abandonment, as enemies of the women. As a result there was slaughter on both sides, occurring at regular intervals. Even today the population centers on this continent remain remote from one another. In some places the animosity between the sexes never has completely abated. Our Captain Cid might very well be considered such a remnant, an heir to the attitude. You probably saw that his engineers and workers were male, all except Shera. He treats her badly because that is accepted in RocketTown. There in the northwest quadrant, they are a population apart.
“My ancestors would intentionally raid the villages on other side of the mountains. It was considered a mystical quest to pass through Mt. Nibel and find a wife, a coming of age that marked a teenaged boy’s transition to manhood. He was required to kidnap and subdue a woman. This was a daunting undertaking, deliberately chosen for its dangers, and the young man always went alone. It fell only to those who were considered skilled in war craft and strong enough to survive it. Families such as ours were considered elite, carrying the newer bloodlines stolen from the warrior-women’s tribes.
“You must have noticed the dark hair common around here. Lighter brown and blonde is more prevalent in RocketTown, and among all the peoples of the northwest shore. The males there never let go of the antipathy for womankind. Before the times of mass communication, Nibelheim thought of them as the pale conquered ones, what Yuffie might call sore losers. The ages have smoothed over those differences but some vestiges of the old customs remained.
“Here in the Nibel area, the prisoner was brought before the community and forced into marriage, in a ceremony called a ‘briding.’ In some cases, this was later done to cement alliances as the clans began to cooperate more. The bride was an object, not actively participating. The groom simply held the woman and put the ring on her finger. Are you familiar with the vows?” I remembered Nora’s words.
“Cherish and protect? Sounds good. Seems like a couple should do that, even today.” I spoke knowing it sounded lame: I should learn when to just shut up. The tone in Vincent’s voice seconded that notion. He chuckled humorlessly, and went on.
“The pledge wasn’t mutual, and the entire vow is this: To cherish and protect, instruct and correct. Pronounced only by the groom. A man expected to teach his prisoner to become a proper wife. A modicum of violence was often necessary, and considered acceptable when the bride didn‘t cooperate.” It was difficult to tell if he was deadpanning it, or really serious. I silently searched his face, especially his eyes, looking for a hint, while his meaning sank in.
Then I began chuckling, unable to keep contain my amusement. The very idea of someone like Vincent teaching anyone like me or Hildy or especially Nora how to act as a submissive wife and mother was just too much.
“You are joking, aren’t you? Are you trying to tell me that I need someone to teach me how to behave? Have you forgotten who revived you? Honestly, for a while I thought you were serious!” The whole narrative was nothing shy of hilarious; and because I was fighting to control myself, I could barely find the breath to speak.
He glared sourly at me a moment, then turned and left me laughing on the edge of the woods. It felt really wrong to let it go at that, but I couldn’t stop giggling. I hadn’t laughed in ages, not really, and it seemed like it should feel good. Surely the overwhelming mirth was cleansing, but by the time I had settled down enough to even be able to talk, Vincent was gone. It would be days before I would even want to speak to him, let alone approach him as a lover, and certainly not as a wife.
We wouldn’t see each again other for weeks.
End of Book Two.
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