Nightmares

Rating: PG
Category: AU
Pairing(s): None
Warnings: Some violence.
Summary: Cid and Vincent have a talk.
Notes: Not really a fic, just sort of a collection of passing mental images.

This story is illustrated by Animama

Cid woke up, and opened one eye. Outside, the world was cold and damp, and the night was dark. There were touches of frost on the ground, and Cid Highwind, who had only joined up with this pack of numbskulls a week ago, was seriously considering going home. The reason was right there next to him; a little black-haired pain in the ass with the airy-fairy name of Vincent Valentine. Because of how cold the mountainous region they were travelling in was, they had all doubled up for heat. Fine and dandy, Cid was all about keeping warm. Cloud was in a tent with Barret. Aeris, Tifa and Yuffie were all warm and snugly in their tent, and even Nanaki and Cait Sith had their own tent.

Cid ended up with Vincent. That was okay, he didn’t especially mind Vincent, at least he was quiet. But he wasn’t exactly warm. It was fine if he remembered to breathe all night, but sometimes he would just stop. His blood would pool, his flesh turned grey, and his eyes glazed over. Presto – dead tent mate.

The first time Cid had seen him do it he had been in hysterics, but his new travelling companions had seen this trick before. While Cid sat in complete horror over the thought that Vincent had died in the night, Aeris entered the tent and knelt beside the still form. She gently picked up Vincent’s head and blew softly into his face. To Cid’s complete surprise, Vincent drew in a loud gasp of air. Aeris turned her large brown eyes to Cid.

“He just needs a little kick-start some mornings,” she said.

“He can’t drink coffee like the rest of us?!” Cid asked, still shaking.

So that had been one drawback to sharing a tent with Mr. Personality, the guy who almost never spoke. And drawback number two was just about to present itself.

Vincent was on his back, panting, his lips parted, strands of hair stuck like spider webs on his damp face. He was writhing on the bed, making quiet little cries. It was a rather lovely picture, save for one thing. He was having another bloody nightmare. Vincent’s nightmares were becoming something of a party joke. Mostly he panted and cried out quietly before either waking himself up or falling silent. Fortunately, the first time he had one, it had been broad daylight and the group was just waking up, so they had been on hand to witness just what the cries and panting were about. It was less funny the second time, when he and Cid had been in their tent and it was late at night. Cid got up in the morning to snickers and jokes, which he did not find amusing in the least.

“He was having a nightmare, okay?” he snapped.

Barret, Cloud, Yuffie, Aeris and Tifa were giggling themselves sick, and even the damned dog had a grin on his face.

“We know,” Barret finally said, shaking his head and chuckling. “But damn, man, that is not what it sounded like!”

Cid debated what to do. A good friend would draw him close and try to gently shoo the nightmares away. In fact he had once tried just that, only to have Vincent lash out in terror, leaving claw marks, bite marks, and a black eye. It wasn’t that Cid didn’t care Vincent was having a nightmare; he just wasn’t fond of pain.

Vincent’s head tossed, and he made a quiet gasp. Shit. What was up with the nightmares? He had at least two nightly, and it was getting old fast. Cid reached out to touch one slender shoulder.

“Vincent,” he whispered.

Vincent turned abruptly, yanking the covers with him so hard and fast Cid was sure he had been burnt. He swore quietly, and then sat up, once more shaking his shoulder.

“Vincent!”

Vincent let out a cry, and Cid heard Barret start to snort with laughter in the next tent. Great, just great. He swore and gave Vincent a shove.

“VINCENT!”

Vincent screamed, a sound of pure fear and despair that had the whole camp mobilized at once. He lashed out wildly at his demons, slashing open the side of the tent. Cid got up and stormed out, frustrated and angry.

“Fuck it! Why do I have to sleep with the little neck-biter?”

Cloud dove into the tent to wake Vincent, shaking him. Vincent opened his eyes, the red orbs staring straight ahead, seeing nothing. He made a very disturbing gasping noise, then his eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed.

“Oh that can’t be good,” said Barret, who was watching through the opening torn in the side of the tent.

“What happened?” asked Tifa.

Cloud shook his head, then leaned down and listened to Vincent’s chest. “I don’t know, he’s had some sort of fit. He’s not breathing.”

“Oh goodness,” said Cid flatly, taking out a cigarette and lighting it. “The vampire is not breathing. Whatever shall we do? He’s never done that before.”

“Can I help?” asked Aeris.

“I don’t know, I have no idea what’s wrong with him.” Cloud looked at Cid. “What was he doing before you left the tent?”

“Having a nightmare, what else does the little shit do?” Cid began to feel a little bad about the way he had acted and walked over to the tent, getting in and clearing a spot to sit beside Vincent. He reached out one large hand and swept the black hair back. “Poor little guy.”

“Bring him out so Aeris can have a look at him,” said Barret.

Cloud backed out of the tent as Cid managed to get his arms around Vincent and lift him. Vincent was like a boned fish, limp and unresisting. Cid carried him out of the tent and laid him on the frost-crisp grass. Aeris knelt beside Vincent, taking his head and blowing into his face as she had done before, and Vincent suddenly came up fighting. Cid pounced on him before he had a chance to injure Aeris, and received three brutally deep claw marks across his face. Swearing, Cid released him, and Vincent was gone into the night.

“Son of a fucking bitch!” He held the bleeding rents closed with one hand, then yelled into the night; “AND DON’T COME BACK YA FUCKING FREAK!”

“Don’t say that,” chastised Aeris. “Come on, let me see…”

“I only said it because I meant it,” snarled Cid. “FUCK! What is up with him? You’ve known him longer than I have, what’s his story?”

“We don’t know,” said Aeris. “He doesn’t talk.” She drew Cid’s hand down and looked at the injury, which had gone through the flesh and down to the bone. She could see his teeth through the side of his head.

“Well now we know what he has that gauntlet for,” remarked Barret.

“Is it bad?” asked Cid.

“No it’s fine,” said Aeris, not wanting him to have any idea as to the extent of the damage Vincent had done. She began focusing her abilities, willing the injury to heal, breathing a sigh of relief as it began to close. Within a few minutes the wound was mended as if it had never been, save for the copious amounts of blood spilled on Cid’s clothes and the ground.

“There, just as handsome as ever,” she said, smiling.

“Which is still butt-ugly,” said Barret. “So who is gonna go catch the night stalker?”

“ME,” said Cid.

“Oh Cid I don’t know,” said Tifa. “He’s probably upset and you’re not exactly the sensitive type.”

“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN I’M NOT SENSITIVE? I AM MISTER SENSITIVITY, THANK YOU VERY FUCKING MUCH!”

Aeris winced. Cid went into the ruined tent to dress, emerging fully clad, cigarette in his teeth, and brandishing that formidable bladed pole he liked to call a lance.

“I’ll be back,” he snarked, and marched into the woods.

“Cid,” said Tifa after him, “please be nice!”

“I’ll handle him with kid fucking gloves,” growled Cid.

Cid marched into the freezing cold woods, his boots crunching on the icy ground. He did not have to go far; Vincent was sitting on a log in the moonlight, shivering despite being fully dressed. What the hell was up with that? He didn’t even undress to sleep, removing not even as much as that stupid headband. The guy was nuts, clearly, that or he had serious issues, in which case one of them had to go, because Cid didn’t think he could put up with much more. Cid drove the point of the lance into the ground and sat down across from Vincent. The two regarded each other.

“This has gotta stop,” said Cid.

Vincent nodded. “I’m going back to the mansion. Back to my casket. I should never have left.”

He stood up and checked to see that he had his guns. Then he turned and began walking off through the woods. Just like that. No complaints, no pleading, no apology. He was just leaving. Cid stood up and followed after him.

“You’re going?”

Vincent kept walking, moving with silent determination. “I’m a liability.”

“So ya had a few nightmares, big deal. You’re a kick-ass fighter.”

“I’m dead. I should stay dead.”

Cid managed to get in front of Vincent and stop him, which was not easy. Cid had seen Vincent avoid obstacles with undead grace on a regular basis; he certainly could have avoided him with ease. But he didn’t. He stared down at Cid from his superior height, red eyes blinking in the darkness.

“You owe me an explanation, vampire,” said Cid.

Vincent did the unexpected. He stepped forward, challenging Cid, staring him down, his face less than an inch before his.

“I’m not a vampire.” He flashed the claws. “I’m a gorgon.” He tried to step around Cid, and felt his hand on his collar.

“I don’t give a fuck if you’re the sugar plum fairy from lollypop lane, you almost carved my face off and I would like to know why.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“Something scared you. I want to know what.”

“Nothing scared me. It was just… something that happened long ago.”

Cid snorted. “How long ago could it have been? You’re what, twenty? Twenty-five?”

“Fifty-seven.”

Cid’s jaw dropped. “You’re… what? Fifty…?”

“I’m undead,” said Vincent quietly. “I was murdered thirty years ago. I breathe, I eat, I sleep, but I don’t have to. I do it because I don’t want to appear any more of a freak that I already am.”

Cid stared, trying to take all this in. “Murdered? But… you… you’re still here. You’re still… you.”

“Barely. It’s probably best if you just let me go.”

Cid shook his head. “No, it’s not. Look you’re a pain in the ass and I could live without the nightmares but… you’re a great fighter. And I don’t know if you are aware of this, but people in this group like you.” He grinned that wicked little grin of his. “If you vanish then Aeris and Tifa are just going to go find you and sit on the edge of your coffin and beg you to pour your heart out. No one needs that, man. All that touchy-feely shit?” Cid shuddered.

Vincent made a quiet sound. It could have been a laugh. “I suppose you’re right.”

“C’mon,” said Cid. “Let’s go back to the tent. You might not get cold, but I definitely get cold.”

“I get cold.”

“Well see? You’re human after all. Just… try to breathe when you sleep.”

They began walking slowly back to camp. “Do you find it disturbing when I stop?” asked Vincent.

“Yeah but the part that pisses me off is, while you do your little coma-thing, you get cold. Which means I get cold, because I’m next to you. And would it kill you to take the brass shoes off? They’re cutting the blankets to shreds.”

Vincent narrowed his eyes and smiled. “Would it kill you to not fall asleep with a lit cigarette in your mouth? I don’t like the idea of waking up in a flaming tent.”

“Fine. You take the shoes off and remember to breathe, and I’ll stop smoking in bed. Deal?”

Vincent nodded, then gave Cid a puzzled sidelong look. “You really… don’t care.”

“Care about what?”

“That I’m…”

“Dead?” Cid snorted. “Big deal. I know a lot of people deader than you who are still walking around. You’re not trying to eat my brains and that’s all I care about.”

“I don’t eat brains.”

“Good. Come on, they’re probably getting worried about us.”

Cid continued making his way to camp, Vincent following after him. They arrived to find their friends awake and sitting by the fire, all clearly worried.

Aeris rose to her feet. “You found Vincent! We were so worried!”

Cid turned to look at Vincent, cocking his thumb at the group.

“What did I tell ya? Touchy-feely. Give them five minutes and they’ll probably start singing ‘Kumbaya'.”

Tifa was the next to speak. “Vincent we don’t know what’s wrong but we’re your friends, we want to help. How about I make us some tea and you can tell us what’s bothering you?”

Vincent raised his eyebrow slightly, looking at her as if she had just suggested a slug-eating competition. Cid snorted.

“You people are all sick, you know. C’mon Vincent, I’ve got some duct tape. We can patch up the tent and still have time for sleep.”

Cid walked over to the tent, climbing inside. Vincent continued to give Tifa that look for another few moments, and then followed after Cid. Soon the ripping of duct tape could be heard, and the tent was quickly repaired from the inside. Then the tent door opened and a clawed golden hand set the infamous brass shoes outside. A pack of cigarettes followed, stuffed into one of the shoes. Then the tent was zipped closed, and there was the rustling of people climbing into bed. There was a brief period of silence.

“What did we agree to about the breathing?”

“That I would do it if you didn’t smoke in the tent.”

“It’s just a leftover butt. Okay fine, don’t go dead on me, ya whiner.”

The tent was unzipped, and the offending butt was stubbed out in the frozen grass. Then the tent was zipped closed once more, and the pair settled.

“You… really don’t want to talk?” said Aeris in a small voice.

“No,” said Vincent.

“But we might be able to help with the nightmares if you just shared…”

“Sharing,” said Cid, addressing Vincent. “That’s where they get you. Next thing you know, you’re wearing sandals and eating granola.”

“And crying at movies,” muttered Vincent.

“And putting little wicker baskets of potpourri in your bathroom.”

“Hate that stuff.”

“Me too, makes my nuts shrink just thinking about it.”

Yuffie stood up abruptly.

“Okay, that’s it, I’m going to bed before I have to listen to any more of this male bonding business. Just the thought of Cid and Vincent being friends is enough to make me start having nightmares.”

“Wanna share your feelings about it?” teased Barret.

“If I do I’ll let you know by sticking my finger down my throat.”

Inside the tent, Cid stared at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to take him once more. At his side, he heard Vincent speak softly.

“You… really don’t care.”

“Nope. Do not give a flying purple damn.”

Vincent let out a quiet sigh, and closed his eyes. Soon he was asleep. It was a long time before he had another nightmare.