Resurfacing
chap 6- Help
He consented to lay there in the dark, hoping the stinging in his eyes would eventually go away. The fan above him was on full blast, sending the soothing cold into the room and his eyes. He found, at times, that it always helped to be in a cold area. Cold usually meant sterile, sterile usually meant clean and Vincent was a man to want to stay clean- usually. The pillow beneath his head and the second one in his arms were comforting, the only pain he felt now was the slight throbbing of his wrist where his wound was. He sighed, closing his eyes in the cool dark, willing himself to perhaps go to sleep, if it would come.
He looked at the clock- it was only slightly past eight. He had only come to his room half an hour ago, after clinging Cid like a lifeline while he...he was ashamed to even think about it, CRIED, into the other mans shoulder. He sighed. When he was younger and a Turk, the thought of a mere hug bringing him to tears would have seen ridiculous and out of the question. Now it was all too real of a thought.
He rolled over, standing up with a grunt. His body hurt, especially his throat and his eyes. But that was no surprise, really, considering he’d just released thirty years of held in pain and grief into Cids poor, unsuspecting shirt. Vincent felt bad about doing it, but he didn’t think he could have held it all in if he tried. The man who's embrace he had just recently left had brought it all back in that silent understanding that no one else had, except perhaps Cloud. But Cloud wasn't here, and the job, the duty, had fallen to the pilot. He paused by the window, looking outside; stars doted the pitch black sky, the nearly full moon casting an eerie glow over everything in town. Lit windows cast small shadows onto the ground from nearby houses, silhouettes of people moving inside.
As he moved in the room, he lifted his head; music was playing, though faintly, somewhere downstairs. He wondered if Cid were still awake, and if he was, Vincent thought, he wouldn’t have blamed the guy. He could remember the way the pilot held him, as tight as he wanted the blonde to but as gentle as he could, then helped him to his bedroom silently when exhaustion and dry sobs was all that was left, a concerned look on his face. Even now he could remember the gentle blue eyes hovering above him, the cool hands on his hot forehead, the soothing and surprisingly soft way Cid had spoken. Vincent started his way downstairs, his bare feet padding on the well worn steps as he got to the living room and looked around. The light under Shera’s bedroom door wasn’t on, neither was any other light in the house except a faint streak he caught out of the corner of his eye. It came from a crack from the slightly open garage door, and as he walked toward it, the soft twang of a country song met his ears.
Cid looked up from where he was sitting in his car, cigarette in hand and a glass of brandy sitting on the dashboard. The creak of the rusty door hinges caught his attention as he watched the door slowly open, the soft light of the garage light falling on pale white skin and a dark red eye that peeked inside. “...come on in, Vincent. I’m not falling asleep any time soon.” He smiled as best as he could through his exhaustion, patting the empty passenger seat beside him.
Vincent slipped in through the door, only allowing himself enough room to squeeze in before he shut it behind him. He couldn’t help but silently chastize himself; this was the second time in less than a hour he’d sought out the comfort of the blonde man sitting in front of him. He thought of something he could say to him as he stood there, just making eye contact as he shuffled on his feet. “...I...I’m sorry, Cid.”
The pilot lifted a brow as he shifted in his seat. “For what?”
“Acting the way I did in the kitchen...breaking down so easily like that and ruining your night. I’m sorry.”
“Oh STOP it. Just stop!” Cid scowled, flicking some ashes off of his cigarette. “So you cried? Big deal. You had a lot on your mind and I’m sure too damn much emotional baggage you were too proud to let out ‘til now. You’re always keeping yourself shut in and you push people who want to help you and take care of you out. You always have, ever since I’ve known you back when we first met down in that crypt under ShinRa mansion. You’re saying you’re sorry for crying ‘cause you think it made you look weak?” Cid shifted again, never losing eye contact with the dark haired man. “Then let me tell YOU something, Vincent Valentine. I’m GLAD you cried!”
Vincent took a step back, narrowing his eyebrows. “And why is that, Highwind?”
“Because for the first time you actually gave some semblance of having emotions other than that of a cold, heartless bastard! You let some of all that hate and anger inside of ya go and showed me for the first damn time that you’re just as human as I always thought you were! Ya showed me that you NEEDED someone and wanted someone to be there for ya!...instead of shutting me out, you let me in.” Cid's scowl lightened as Vincent dropped his gaze, running a hand up and down his arm. “For the first time you actually made me feel like...like...like I could do something RIGHT for you, like I could help you. And I WANNA help you, Vince!”
“You can’t help me, Highwind.”
“Fuck I can’t! Sure, I can’t help you forget all the crap you went through with Lucrecia and that fucked up bastard Hojo. I can’t help you set things right with yourself and your past. But mister, I CAN and I sure as hell intend to SHOW you I CAN help you have a happier life! If I can make you laugh, an’ if I can make you smile and have a good time, then that’s what I’m going to do, damn it!” Cid took a deep breath, sighing as he could see Vincent creeping farther back into himself with every word. “For fucks sake, Vincent. You’re my best friend. I care about you, and I want you to understand that.” He watched Vincent lift his head slightly as he took in every word. “You wanna cry, come to me and cry, I won’t care. You wanna hug, fuck I’ll hug ya as much as you want if it’d make you feel better! If you wanna joke n’ smile an’ laugh....shit, I’m sure as hell not gonna hold you back.” The pilot took a well earned drag from his cigarette as he sighed again. This was way too much emotional crap to have to deal with right now. He was just glad he’d decided to bring along liquor.
Vincent stood there, his eyes glued to the navy gray concrete floor beneath him. He could hear Cid shifting in his seat, sighing every few seconds to try and calm himself down. The gunman wasn’t surprised at the outburst; Cid was well known for his ability to yell someone to tears in three continents, after all. It was that the words he’d said hit Vincent like a knife in the gut, twisting his stomach in knots and running through his mind at top speed. “You want me to be happy?”
“No, I don’t want you to be happy, Vince. I want you to be ECSTATIC! I want you to be DELIRIOUSLY happy. I want you so fuckin’ happy your town nickname would change to ‘Sunny’! I wanna see a smile on your face every damn day for the rest of your damn life!”
Vincent looked Cid full in the face, one eyebrow lifted. While he seriously doubted his town nickname (if he had one to begin with) would be changed to SUNNY, he could see where the pilot was coming from. “Truly?”
“Chop my balls off with a spoon if I’m lying.” Cid leaned back in his seat, picking up the glass of brandy only to down it quickly. He watched Vincent stand there, thinking of some sort of mental tug of war with the choices. Cid was telling the truth; seeing Vincent happy at any given point in his life would -have- to be better than him moping around for the rest of it, stuck in the past. Cid leaned over, opening the passenger door to the car as he pointed to the seat. “Sit.”
Vincent sank down into the empty seat, his mind still running a mile a minute. He chose his words carefully, measuring the affect of each one. “I appreciate what you want to do for me, Highwind. I do. It’s just that...it will not be as easy for me to move on as you say it will. There are...a lot of things I have to make up for and change about myself. I want to move forward, I -do-. I just....” He sighed, running his still bandaged hand through his hair. “I just don’t know how.”
Cid snorted, dragging on his cig again. “Vince, I don’t know how to do HALF the shit I do in a day. Life doesn’t come with a manual, not like a ship or car or something. It’s something you gotta figure out for yourself as you go. That doesn’t mean you can’t let people help ya along the way.” He casually flicked the finished cigarette to the floor, shaking his head.
“People like you?”
“If you’ll let me.”
Vincent flicked his red eyes over to look at Cid. He always took the pilot to be a sure, cocky person everyone always made him out to be, not who he just admitted he was. He could feel exhaustion tug at him one more time, but at the same time a knot in his stomach loosen. The soft country song playing low in the background, the breathing of the man beside him and the warmth of the garage was making him sleepy. Without a second thought he leaned over, resting his cheek against Cid’s well muscled shoulder. “Alright, Highwind. I will let you.”
As Vincent closed his tired eyes, he couldn’t see the man above him smirk as an arm was tucked over his shoulders, drawing him closer. “‘Bout damn time, Vince. About damn time.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ AN- See? Even crusty old rednecks can say sweet things! :P
I don't like doing serious chapters...good thing the next few ones won't be. *grin*
Reviews welcome, grammer and spelling checks more so. Thanks to those who left reviews and helped me catch my mistakes. I'm working on it! Edited 3/8/08