Love doesn't conquer all. It doesn't even conquer some.
Questionable Intentions
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
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
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
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.

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
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.

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.
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