Raising the Dead

Rating: PG
Category: ‘Dirge of Cerberus’ game-verse.
Pairing(s): Cid/Vincent… sorta
Warnings: Language.
Summary: Cid decides it’s time to let Vincent in on a secret.
Notes: This is my attempt at a fic with a ‘canon’ Vincent.

This story is accompanied by two illustrations by Animama.

You're so very picturesque,
You're so very cold.
Taste like roses on your breath,
And graveyards on your soul.
- Alice Cooper, ‘Blue Turk’.

“Feeling better?” Cid asked.

Yuffie gave him a jaundiced look, still dangling her bag of ice over her forehead.

“Marginally. Ooooh…. Why doesn’t any one else around here get air sick?”

“You ever spent time with Cloud in a truck?”

“No, but I spent time with him in a small submarine. I wish he’d remembered he had claustrophobia before we locked the hatch.”

Cid grinned, then glanced at a tall, wraith-thin figure crossing the deck, wrapped in the tattered rags of a long red cloak. The air seemed to grow colder as Vincent walked over to the great window to look out, innocent of the effect his presence had on the crew of ‘The Shera’. He was silent and solitary, rarely seen, though his presence was felt all over the ship. The crew had no idea who or what this spectre was, but their captain seemed to think well of him, and that accounted for much. Yuffie, however, had never feared Vincent a moment in her life.

“Vincent!” she called. He didn’t look, but she knew she heard him. “Isn’t there ever a time when you’re quiet? Boy you just talk all the time!”

He gave her a glance over his shoulder, and then ignored her. Yuffie looked at Cid.

“Does that count as amusement?”

“Leave the man alone.”

“You’re no fun.”

Cid watched as Vincent looked out the window for a while, then silently left the deck, taking the cold with him. Outside it was becoming dark. By morning they would have reached Midgar, and they would be dropping Vincent down into the ruins of the city with some of the biggest bad-asses Shinra had ever cooked up. There was a very good chance he could be killed, or mutilated, or fed to that monster Deepground was trying to raise. There was every chance Vincent Valentine was living his last night alone, in isolation, aboard a ship full of people. Suddenly, without realizing he was going to, Cid picked Yuffie up and stuck her before the wheel.

“Hold this.”

“What? Hey! What do you mean hold it?”

Cid put her hands on the wheel. “I mean hold it. I’ll only be gone a minute, there’s something I have to do.”

Yuffie stared at the massive wheel as if it was an enormous toad. “You couldn’t have gone before we left?”

“Just hold the damn wheel.”

Yuffie watched Cid go, and hoped she wouldn’t crash into something. Cid meanwhile went after Vincent, finding him exactly where he thought he would; someplace dark and quiet. In this case, an upper deck that would, in a few hours, house a dozen gunners. Right now it was just a silent place with a lot of windows, and Vincent was looking up at the sky. He turned his head as he heard Cid come in, then returned his gaze to the heavens. Cid came to stand beside him, also looking up at the night sky.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” said Cid.

Silence.

“Think one day I’d like my own observatory. Maybe when I’m old. Just end my days staring at the stars.”

Silence. Cid glanced at the tall man beside him. Vincent was looking up, saying nothing, cold as death and yet, in some strange way, seeming very innocent. Maybe it was the quiet way he just watched everything, Cid didn’t know. But he had come up here to say something and he didn’t have a lot of time. Yuffie could hold a wheel just fine, but in about forty minutes they were going to have to lower the ships and settle in for the night, and she couldn’t do that. Time to fish or cut bait.

“I came up here to say something to you.”

Again silence, but Vincent lowered his gaze to look at Cid, waiting for him to speak. Cid felt a knot in his guts.

“Tomorrow all hell’s gonna break loose, and we’re gonna be in the middle of it. There’s a chance at least one of us won’t see the following day. I know we’ve faced shit before, but this is different. This is a war. Things happen in war. And I can’t let you go off without letting you know what’s on my mind.”

Well at least he had Vincent’s full attention now. The red eyes blinked at him, waiting. Damn this would be so much easier if the man talked or at least showed an emotion on occasion. Oh well. Time to make a fool of himself. Wouldn’t be the first time.

“This probably isn’t going to thrill you in the least, but… I’m in love with you.”

An emotion! Or at least a reaction. The red eyes blinked, and there was a most definite ‘WTF?’ word balloon appearing briefly above Vincent’s head. He backed up a step, and Cid wondered if he had not just ended their friendship. Men loving other men was not a popular concept, and Cid knew if word of this little exchange ever got around, he would likely never pilot anything outside of his dreams again. But he had to say it. Even if Vincent didn’t like it, he had to say it.

“Yeah okay, I know, probably makes you sick to hear it. I don’t know why I didn’t just keep my mouth shut. Probably should have. I just didn’t want you running around through Hell by yourself without knowing at least one human being cared if you came back. But I do. I love you. I love you so damned much it hurts and if I didn’t think you’d put a bullet in my head I’d fall to my knees right now and beg for a kiss. Anyway that’s… that’s all I came to say.” Cid stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets. “I guess I’ll get out of your hair now.”

Cid began walking towards the door, but stopped when he heard his name. He turned to look at the tall, painfully thin shade. He could see Vincent struggling with the concept, not repulsed so much as puzzled. He finally managed a word.

“Why?”

“Why not?” Cid stepped closer. “You’re beautiful, intelligent, and personally I think you’re the funniest person I’ve ever met. Ya never say a word, but all you have to do is look at someone, and I can just see in your eyes what you’re thinking. Ya make me laugh.”

Vincent slowly turned away, making a brief, quiet sound, which Cid knew to be embittered amusement. “I’m sure I make a lot of people laugh. Don’t waste your feelings on me, Cid. I’m dead.”

“I know that.” Cid walked up to him, addressing the long back. “I know you’re dead. I know you’re screwed up and ya don’t know your ass from a tea kettle and you don’t know how to communicate and you’d just rather be left the hell alone. I see it in the way you move, the way you lurk in the corner with your head down and your arms crossed, how you don’t like to be touched, how you keep the whole world at arm’s length. But you don’t seem to realize your problem isn’t the fact that your heart doesn’t beat. Your problem is you’ve been raped.”

Vincent looked over his shoulder at him, silent puzzlement in the red eyes.

“You heard me,” said Cid. “Raped. First by Hojo and then Lucrecia. You were shot, tied down to a table and had your body violated in the most heinous possible manner, and when he was done with you, she came and had a go. It might not have been sexual but you certainly got fucked. And what really gets my ass in a knot is after all she did to you, you have not one fucking clue that YOU are the victim here!”

Vincent snapped his cloak around himself and left, leaving Cid alone and cursing his own idiocy. He lit a cigarette, not bothering to go after Vincent. He knew he would never see him until he chose to be seen, and Cid had a sinking feeling he was never going to see Vincent again. Damn it! He should have just left Miss Precious Fucking Walks-On-Water Shit-Smells-Like-Roses Lucrecia out of it. Just because it was the truth didn’t mean Vincent wanted to hear it. Damn it!

Cid left the gun station and went back to the bridge, taking the wheel from Yuffie. He said nothing, staring ahead, forcing Vincent and the unfortunate interaction out of his mind. He had to concentrate. This was no time to be coming apart at the seams. Cid sniffed and turned his head to wipe one eye on his shoulder, hands still on the wheel. He forced himself into control, drawing a deep breath and wrapping himself in his own cloak; this one made of aggression. He cast a sidelong glance at Yuffie, who was staring at him.

“What?” he asked nastily.

Yuffie had no idea what was wrong with Cid, or what happened, but she could tell something had not worked out the way he had hoped. She suddenly embraced him in a big bear hug. Cid sighed loudly and rolled his eyes as his crew began to snicker. Great, just great. He said nothing and continued flying the airship.

***---***

It was late. The fleet of airships was settled, troops were prepared, the plans were laid. Nothing left to do now but try to get a few hours sleep before all hell broke loose. Cid made his way to his cabin, opening the door and stepping inside, stopping as he became aware of a drop in temperature, and the vague scent of the grave.

“Vincent?” he asked hopefully.

Cid turned on a small desk lamp, and saw a familiar figure. He was seated on Cid’s bed, one arm braced behind himself, the other resting on his knee, the long leg drawn up. The other leg dangled off the edge of the bed, and Vincent was staring off to the side, not looking at Cid.

“I never thought I would see you again,” said Cid.

“You almost didn’t.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything about Lucrecia. I know you loved her.”

Vincent didn’t want to talk about Lucrecia, or what had been done to him. It was not a topic up for discussion. His feelings on the whole matter were very, very private.

“I came to tell you not to waste your feelings on me,” said Vincent.

“I decide who to waste my feelings on. And I also decide whether or not they are wasted in the first place.”

“You can’t love the dead.”

Cid rolled his eyes, and began getting ready for bed. He took off his goggles and tossed his gloves onto a table piled with navigational charts.

“So you’re dead. Big fucking deal.”

“Not just my body. Everything inside. My feelings, my empathy, all gone.”

“Bull crap.” Cid took off his t-shirt and tossed it onto the table with his gloves. “If you had no emotions then you certainly wouldn’t have pitched a hissy when I brought up Lucrecia. You sure as fuck wouldn’t have bothered to crawl out of the casket three years ago and help us track down Hojo if you had no emotions. You have them. You just don’t want anyone else to feed you your heart on a platter again.”

Cid paused as the smell of turned earth became flavoured with a hint of sulphur. He was hitting buttons, and Vincent was getting pissed. He sighed, pulling his jacket from around his waist and tossing it onto the table, walking over to Vincent and kneeling before him. He gazed into the red eyes, sensing the hurt, and the rage. He wanted to hold him close and make it all go away. But he didn’t think he was going to get the chance.

“Look, Vince, I’m sorry. I have no right to make remarks on something so personal to you. You don’t want to talk about it and I should just back off and respect that. All I’m trying to say is I love you and I think you’re worth loving, and all I want is one lousy kiss before one of us gets his head shot off and I never get a chance to ask. Because that is something I would regret all my life.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why? Because I’m a man?”

“Because if I give you one kiss you’ll assume I’ll eventually break down and give you another.”

“And kissing has a habit of turning into a relationship,” said Cid. “Let me guess. A relationship with you would consist of me living alone, sleeping alone, staring out the window night after night, wondering where you are, what you’re doing, if you’re hurt. Maybe showing up every other year out of guilt to lie in my bed for a few hours before drifting off again, in agony you won’t share, won’t unburden. Punishing yourself for all eternity, hating yourself for hurting me, yet living in fear that one day you will come home and I’ll have died without seeing you one last time, or worse, you will come home and… it won’t be your home anymore. I’ll have moved on. And you’ll be left in the dark again, cold, alone, just one more ghost haunting the night.”

Vincent did not move, but the eyes shifted away, and Cid thought he saw for the briefest second a quiver in the lower lip. Cid reached up, lightly brushing his hand over Vincent’s cheek.

“You don’t have to be dead, Vincent. I don’t want to turn you into something you’re not, I just want you to understand that I love you, and everything else is just superfluous.”

“They could take everything from you.”

“Yeah, they could. Thought about that, too. And it would hurt but it’s still my choice to make.”

“Cid…”

“Not every stupid thing another person does is your fault. I’m all grown up, Vincent. I can make my own decisions. You don’t have to protect me.”

Cid stroked his hand over one cold cheekbone, gazing at Vincent, then moved forward, rising up slowly, gauging Vincent’s reaction. He closed his eyes and parted his lips, feeling an almost violently emotional jolt throughout his body as he felt the chilling touch of Vincent’s mouth beneath his. He shivered, wanting nothing more than a reaction, a response, the smallest sign of life. Then Vincent parted his lips, and let Cid taste him. It was a very small gift, but the intensity made the hair on the back of Cid’s neck stand up, his breath shiver, and the sudden rush of blood to his groin was damned near crippling. The kiss ended, and Cid stared into Vincent’s eyes, wanting him so badly it hurt.

“Stay the night,” said Cid.

“And if I say no?”

“Door is that way. I won’t force you to do anything.” Cid managed a grin. “And I sure as hell can’t chase you in this state.”

“What if we’re caught?”

“What if tomorrow we’re both blown to hell? What if a lot of things? What if I make love to you all night and you realize you don’t have to spend all your life alone?” He kissed him softly. “What if you take a chance and realize there is still some joy to be had?”

“What if you die tomorrow?”

Cid touched Vincent’s face. “Then you can still sit back and smile and know that you made me the happiest man on earth. And I hope you carry that with you forever.”

The ice melted, and Cid felt the walls finally come down, at least to an extent. Vincent lay down on the bed, watching as Cid settled beside him, drawing him into his arms.

“Have you ever done this before?” Vincent asked, his tone dry.

“Not with a man. Will you stop worrying? I promise I will not hurt you.”

There was a series of soft clicks, and Cid felt the barrel of Cerberus gently nudge the underside of his jaw.

“Who says you’re getting on top?”

The tone was cold, but there was a hint of play somewhere beneath the ice. Cid glanced down, though he could not see the gun. He raised an eyebrow.

“It’s my ship. I could pull rank.”

“I’m not a member of the crew.”

Cid reached up slowly, wrapping his hand around the muzzle of the powerful weapon, gently moving it aside and looking down at Vincent. “How about I say please?”

Vincent let him take the gun, Cid carefully laying it aside, then kissing him. “I won’t hurt you,” he said quietly. “Ever.”

“But what if I hurt you?”

“Why don’t we just deal with that if it ever comes up?” Cid began unbuckling the cloak.

“Cid, you have to understand, I really am dead. I… I’m not sure you’re going to… want me after you see what I look like.”

Cid kissed Vincent, and undressed him slowly, unwrapping the painfully thin and badly, badly scarred body. Cid kissed his throat, running his hand over the ribs as they cut through the pale skin.

“Well the occasional cheeseburger wouldn’t do you any harm, I’ll say that. I mean I’ve seen ya drink beer, so you can drink; you must be able to eat, too. But if you are waiting for me to run screaming then you’re out of luck. I’ve waited too damned long for this night to be put off by the fact that you’re bone thin.”

“And the scars?”

“Fuck the scars. Fuck this stupid head scarf, too. Who taught you to dress, Lawrence of Arabia?”

Cid tossed the head scarf away, ignoring the hideous scar beneath it. He kicked off his boots and removed his jeans, then drew Vincent close, covering them both over with a blanket. Vincent stared at him.

“You really don’t care what I look like.”

“Nope. Truly do not give a fuck, though frankly I do like to watch you walk. And I admit I’ve nearly gotten my head caved in a few times watching you when I should be watching something else. Now give me that long skinny body of yours. If I’m gonna die tomorrow then I want the look in your eyes while I make love to you to be the last thing I see.”

Vincent lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, uncertain what to do. He finally just closed his eyes and relaxed, deciding just to leave all the worry for tomorrow. It would come soon enough. He was so tired of worry, so tired of being weighed down by pain. It was so easy to just let go, to give himself over to Cid’s gentle caresses and kisses. He was almost in a trance by the time he felt Cid move over top of him, carefully penetrating him. Vincent winced, and then gasped, a small worm of fear writhing inside him. Then he felt Cid kiss him, caressing him, concerned for him.

“Are you all right?” Cid whispered.

Vincent nodded, burying his face against Cid’s neck, uttering that small sound that passed for a laugh.

“Never done this before.”

“With a man?”

“With anyone. Ever.”

Cid paused. “What? Ever? I thought you and…?”

“No.”

“Wow.” Cid stroked the long, black hair, then grinned broadly. “I’m… honoured.”

“If my father catches us you’ll have to marry me.”

Cid laughed. “A joke! We have a joke!” He raised his head and looked down at Vincent. “I’d marry you. He wouldn’t even have to bring out the shotgun.”

Vincent reached up to toy with Cid’s hair. He was worrying again; Cid could see it in Vincent’s eyes. Likely he was concerned about the crew finding out their captain was in love with a man, and said captain being thrown from his own flight deck at thirty thousand feet. Oh well, couldn’t cure a sixty-year-old habit with one night between the sheets. Cid gently kissed him, and resumed making love to him, slowly, tenderly, until finally both lay spent in each other’s arms, and sleep overtook them.

***---***

“They are! They totally are!”

“Oh they are not.”

“ARE!”

“Not.”

“ARE!”

“Not.”

“Cloud…”

“Yuffie I’m about to throw open the doors of a transport vehicle and ride my motorcycle into battle, and you’re calling me to tell me that Cid and Vincent are an item.”

“I didn’t say they were an item, I called to say Cid was up all night screwing Vincent’s brains out.”

Tifa looked over her shoulder through the small window at the back of the truck cab.

“Yuffie don’t make stuff up.”

“I’m telling you it’s true!”

Barret shook his head and shuddered, making a face as if he had tasted something vile. “That’s a picture that don’t bear envisioning.”

“It’s true!”

Cloud, Tifa and Barret suddenly heard Cid’s voice in the background. “What’s true?”

“That you’re banging Vincent!”

There was a pause, then a scream, which seemed to fade off into the distance.

“Always wanted to do that,” muttered Cid.

Barret roared with laughter. “Did you toss her off the airship?”

“Yeah, don’t worry; she’s got a jet board and a parachute.”

“Cid that’s mean!” said Tifa, trying hard not to laugh.

“She had it coming! I don’t want her upsetting Vincent! He’s got a lot on his plate right now!”

“Right on,” said Barret. “We want him sharp and focused.”

“Absolutely,” said Cid. Then, as the trio listened, Cid’s voice softened, and the tone sweetened to a gentleness they had never heard before. “You be careful out there, okay babe? Come back alive to me. I love you.” There was the soft sound of a kiss.

“Uh… Cid?” said Barret. “Who ya talking to?”

Cid murmured something affectionate to the person he was addressing, and Tifa drew a quiet gasp as she heard an equally soft response. They could not hear the words, but there was no mistaking the low, smoky voice. There was another kiss, then Cid returned to the phone.

“Okay, Vincent’s underway. You guys take care. We’re all gonna go have a beer after this, and none of ya are gonna wuss out by gettin’ killed!”

Cid hung up, and the inside of the truck fell silent for a while.

“Cid, and Vincent…” said Tifa, her tone heavy with disbelief.

“Are lovers,” finished Barret.

Silence.

“Well, that’s okay,” said Tifa, “I mean it could be good for Vincent to have someone self-confident in his life. Someone who will help him feel better about himself.”

“Yeah,” said Barret, trying to convince himself she was right. “And Vincent can help Cid to become more introspective.”

“Exactly,” said Tifa.

Silence.

“I need a bottle of brain bleach,” said Barret.

“Barret be nice,” said Tifa.

“I can’t! Vincent’s so damned skinny! And he’s… living impaired. Oh good Lord Cid’s a queer necrophiliac!”

“Barret!”

“Well he’s dead! Unless Cid found a way to raise him, then… OH CRAP I GAVE MYSELF A MENTAL IMAGE! MAKE IT STOP!”

“Barret!” admonished Tifa. “They are our friends, and we should be happy for them, especially Vincent! He’s been so alone and unhappy for so long!”

“Yeah, you’re right. Okay. I’ll try to be happy for them. Just… gonna take some getting used to.”

Silence. Then Cloud poked his head through the back window.

“Is now a bad time to tell you about me and Reno?”