Scars

Like so often, he left by the upcoming dawn, without a sound, leaving behind nothing more than a trace of his scent on the pillow.
Damn, I hate it when he does this! He could at least say goodbye before disappearing for the gods know how long.
No, I don't want to imprison him. If he needs his wanderings to find some peace of mind – okay.
I'm not good with this emotional stuff... but sometimes I wish that he would talk to me more. I guess he would need a psychologist–one of those modern therapists with all the trimmings. Of course I'm not crazy enough to suggest this. He would just give me THE GLARE and roam around alone for the next few days or even weeks in Bahamut knows where.
Worried? Of course I'm worried. Not that I'd ever admit it. That wouldn't fit my image.
Cursing, I get out of bed. A glance out of the window informs me that it will be another stormy winter day. Great–another boring day sitting by the fireplace. And no Vincent to quarrel with.
Bad-tempered, I stumble into the kitchen. Out of habit, I snap at Shera for not having my tea ready yet; then I drop myself onto a chair and light a cigarette. Silently, I stare out into the snow-flurry.
“Captain? Is Vincent...”
I glare at Shera until she blushes and looks away. “He's gone hunting.“ That's the most fitting description, I guess... and I don't feel the urge to explain Vincent's need to kill monsters to her. Perhaps he feels alive when doing this – who knows.
“Oh,“ she utters dumbly and places the teapot in front of me. To preserve the proprieties, I murmur an insulting sounding thanks and pour myself a cup. Shera scurries out without further comment. Good for her.
Thoughtful, I look into the dark, steaming liquid and grin at my deformed reflection in it. Strange thing, reflections... If you look into a mirror, you often don't like what you see. Sometimes, it's like looking into a stranger's face... Is that the reason Vincent avoids mirrors like the plague?
Great, I'm thinking of him again. Somehow, this red-eyed bastard managed to bewitch me... and it's a spell that even Esuna couldn't break.
He likely doesn't know – he thinks of himself as disgusting, monstrous, and he is caught too deep inside the hell of his memories and persuasions to realize that this is the biggest load of nonsense since Rufus Shinra's New Years' speech.
One time I got carried away and told him that I love him. I'll never forget the puzzled flicker of his unbelieving eyes; never forget the resigned headshake and his monotone voice.
“Thank you... but it is not necessary to lie to me. It is fine as it is.“
My following outbreak of rage was one of the most violent kinds, and some time during it Vincent silently left the house to stay away for the next two weeks.
I put the cup down, and my reflection disappears, extinguished by a simple movement of my hand. How fragile and futile are the things that seem so casual and self-evident to us! We consider something to be unchangeable, irrefutable... and suddenly our world turns upside down. What can we still trust in, if even the most elemental things aren't safe any more? What if we can't even trust ourselves?
I'm no exception: I never would have thought that I could fall in love with a man. Well, a few weeks in Vincent's company convinced me of the opposite.
How must he feel? His great love betrayed him. The system he worked for suddenly turned against him. From one second to the next, the hunter became the prey... Hojo's own personal toy. He now has to share his body with four monsters, of which the demon named Chaos is probably the worst.
Every minute of his existence, Vincent fights the shadows in himself... and one day, I will lose him to this darkness. I can only pray that we still have some time left and that Reeve's elite staff of scientists finds a way to neutralize Hojo's manipulations and relieve Vincent of his curse. I know the chances are slim... but I need something to hold on to. I long since understood that Vincent resigned years ago. He doesn't allow himself any hope, fearing it might be destroyed once more.
All I can do is to wait for the moments in which he allows me to get close to him. Then I'll take his hand, let him rest in my arms and hold together the fragments into which Hojo shattered his personality.
Some day, my love and my endeavors won't suffice any more, and he will lose himself. May the gods come to our aid so that we'll be able to stop Chaos then.
As usual, the tea is too strong, but I don't care right now. The snowfall has increased... when Vincent comes back, he will be frozen to the bone. Like every time, I'll have to convince him to follow me into the shower, because, despite his demonic “subtenant“, his immune system is alarmingly weak.
Once again, he will stand before me, his head bowed, insecure and ashamed of his countless scars. I'll wash him, gently and slowly, because hasty moves are a bad idea in Vincent's presence. He will shiver under my touches, totally caught up in his dark memories.
Sighing, I close my eyes. By now, I know the trails of his scars by heart; the cruel pattern that Hojo left on Vincent's marble-white skin like a crazy artist on a living canvas. Countless times I have traced them with my index finger, kissed every single one, murmuring tender nothings until he finally relaxed. I can't get them out of my head, those precise white lines that seem to form letters of a language foreign to me – letters that tell of Vincent's suffering.
With a nasty curse, I throw my teacup against the wall. Why? Why all that?
Soft steps draw near the kitchen door; I expect Shera to come in, look at me reproachfully and then silently clean up the remnants of my temper tantrum... but it is Vincent who enters and eyes me with his inexpressive red stare.
For a moment I am nearly overwhelmed by a number of various, contradictory emotions. Relief, apprehension, rage, affection... There is so much I would like to tell him, things I cannot put into words. How much I want to let him know what he means to me!
“Thought you made off once again,“ I grumble. The ghost of a smile flickers around the corners of his mouth, and he shrugs.
“Shit. Sit down an' drink a cup of tea before the goddamn stuff gets cold,“ I order. No, I never find the right words... but I hope he understands me nonetheless.

23/09/06