If You Could Read My Mind

Rating: PG
Category: AU
Pairing(s): Cid/Vincent
Warnings: See Summary
Summary: Cid and Vincent get drunk in a hotel room.
Notes: A very happy birthday to animama. Song used is “If You Could Read My Mind” by Gordon Lightfoot.

“We undoubtedly have the oddest friendship on the planet,” said Cid.

Vincent didn’t say anything. Cid knew he wouldn’t. Vincent rarely spoke. The red eyes blinked at him questioningly in the darkness. Outside the window of the Ghost Hotel the artificial lightning flickered, and there was the soft rumble of thunder.

“Well think about it,” said Cid as they sat together on the bed, sharing a bottle of almond sherry – their third of the night. “Can you think of two people more opposite? For one thing I never shut up, I bitch constantly, and you almost never say a word. You speak volumes though, don’t you? In your own quiet way. Tell me the truth, what do you care about this Lucrecia girl? What was she to you?”

The red eyes glanced away, the head lowering slightly. Cid nodded.

“Okay I get it. You loved her. But that was thirty years ago. Don’t you think it’s time to move on?”

“Cid…. This is not a conversation I want to have. There isn’t anything I can say to make you understand that point in my life.” A tiny smile tugged at the corner of Vincent’s mouth. “That point,” he whispered. “It is still ‘that point’. I haven’t moved an inch since that night.”

“Well maybe it’s time,” said Cid.

“Don’t tell me how to feel.”

Cid blinked in surprise. “Did you just snap at me?”

“I did. And I’ll do it again.”

Cid grinned. “That’s adorable.”

“Cid… please don’t condescend.”

“No I mean it. It’s really cute. You’ll stand up for her but not for yourself. Did she do that for you, or did she just stand there while you bled to death and then pretended that she was the victim?”

Vincent flinched and looked away, and Cid immediately felt bad for the remark.

“Thought so,” said Cid softly. He reached out and gently drew Vincent close, holding him against his chest. “I would love to read your mind. I’d love to know why you think it’s okay for someone to hurt you so damned badly.” He grinned drunkenly and began to quietly sing;

"If I could read your mind, love,
What a tale your thoughts could tell.
Just like a paperback novel,
The kind that drugstores sell.
When you reach the part where the heartaches come
The hero would be me…"

Slowly the smile faded from Cid’s face, and he stopped singing. It was Vincent who provided the next line.

“But heroes often fail.”

Cid sighed quietly. “Yeah yeah, And you won’t read that book again because the ending’s just too hard to take.”

“I appreciate the sentiment Cid, but you couldn’t have saved me. No one could have. I was firmly convinced it was my duty to save her from herself, and it never once occurred to me the person in danger was actually me. That was the mindset of the time, you see. She was a woman. I was a man. It was my responsibility. She was a helpless leaf in the wind, blowing towards the cliff edge. I leapt out to save her. The wind carried her across the chasm, but I fell.”

“And I arrived thirty years too late to catch you before you hit,” said Cid.

Vincent shook his head. “It probably wouldn’t have mattered. I don’t see how anything could have stopped the horror that was rushing straight at me. Even if you were there to play hero. And why would you want to?”

“Cid gently nuzzled at his ear, singing softly once more. “I never thought I could feel this way, and I’ve got to say that I just don’t get it…”

Vincent thought about that. He raised his head to look up at Cid.

“You’re holding me on your lap and singing old Gordon Lightfoot songs at me.”

“Yeah well I’m drunk.”

“So am I but… no wait… I did sing.”

“Only one line. Doesn’t count.”

“You sing really well,” said Vincent.

“Of course I do – I’m Cid Fucking Highwind.”

“That’s an unusual middle name. You don’t hear it very often.”

“Oh yeah? What’s your middle name?”

“Percival.”

“PERCIVAL?! You’re shitting me!”

“Percival. I shit you not.”

“I like that. Vincent Percival Ishityounot Valentine.”

“Mother lost a bet.”

“Musta been a doozy,” said Cid. He grinned down at Vincent. “You have the prettiest red eyes.”

“Now you’re teasing.”

“Nuh-uh. They’re beautiful. They’re such an amazing colour, but… when you really look… they have all this depth and light, and they sparkle. Like really big rubies.” A slow grin spread over Cid’s face. “Mr. Valentine I think I’d like to kiss you.”

The claws came up to gently cover Cid’s face, pushing him back. “Nope.”

“Nope?!” Cid moved the hand. “Why nope?! Is it my breath? Because I’ve got a bottle of shampoo in my…”

“It’s not your breath. It’s the situation. It’s easy to be romantic in a closed quiet room where no one is likely to see and you’re drunk enough to shun responsibility, and those moments can be sweet, but not for me. I don’t want any more sweet secrets behind closed doors. It’s too easy to lock them away and pretend they never happened. No one is ever locking my heart away again.”

“So what do you want?” asked Cid.

“I want the grand public gesture. I want a thousand people to know you asked me to kiss you. I want proof that I’m not just some toy you’d be embarrassed to be caught playing with.”

Cid frowned slightly, puzzled. “That sounds… really out of character for you. I mean normally you’re a shadow. You don’t talk, you stand in corners with your head down and your arms folded…”

“I’m done chasing leaves off of cliff tops,” said Vincent softly. “The next time someone tells me they love me, I don’t want to be left alone with only a handful of spider webs and whispered ghosts to show for it. Lucrecia was always one for games and secrets, and it all led to the death of my father, and me. I’ll have no more shadows.”

“So lemme get this straight. If I want you to like me… I have to mortify you in the worst possible way and do it publicly.”

“I am fully aware of the irony of the situation.”

“You want me to sing too?”

Vincent smiled slightly. “If you like.”

“I can sing the Gordon Lightfoot song. But that’s not a happy song.”

“But it’s one of my favourites,” said Vincent. “I like that song.”

“Okay, you got it.” Cid gently pushed Vincent off his lap, then, weaving, stood up. “You just stay here and don’t pass out. I’ll send someone.”

Vincent watched Cid weave his drunken way out of the room, wondering exactly what it was Cid intended to do in his loaded state. What did it matter anyway? If there was one thing Vincent had learned far too well it was that he was not worth the effort. Cid would run into friends, find another place to drink, and drag himself back to the hotel room sometime just before dawn, having conveniently forgotten all. Vincent poured himself a glass of sherry, then lay back on the bed to enjoy it. He had nearly drained the entire glass, when there came a knock at the door. It creaked open, and Tifa peeked in.

“Vincent? Are you awake? You need to come see something…”

Oh gods, what had Cid done now?

Vincent got off the bed and walked over to Tifa, closing the door behind himself as he stepped out of the room and into the hall. Saying nothing, she took his hand and led him out of the hotel and into the artificial cemetery that surrounded it. He looked around in confusion at the crowd there. It was hardly a group of thousands, but it was certainly a few dozen. There were the usual suspects – Cloud, Barret, Yuffie, and the rest of their little gang. Then there were the not so usual ones – Cid’s airship crew, and the better part of the hotel staff, all standing in the graveyard. What was going on?

He could hear music, and it seemed to be coming from the roof of the hotel. Vincent looked up, and realized that the artificial sky above the hotel had been temporarily removed and the dome covering it opened to let in the real night sky. They were many stories above the ground; near the very peak of the Gold Saucer, and the starry sky seemed to surround them. And seated on the roof of the Ghost Hotel was Cid, playing an old guitar.

“What’s he doing?” asked Vincent, but before he even finished asking the question, Cid began to sing;

"If you could read my mind, love,
What a tale my thoughts could tell.
Just like an old time movie
’bout a ghost from a wishing well.
In a castle dark, or a fortress strong
With chains upon my feet,
You know that ghost is me.
And I will never be set free
As long as I’m a ghost that you can’t see…"

“I don’t believe it,” he whispered. “I told him to do something and he…”

His words trailed off and stopped as the fireworks began; stars of pink and silver and blue exploding in the sky and raining down in shimmering sparkles, like a strange silent rain, falling quietly around him.

“What did you tell him to do?” asked Tifa.

Vincent just shook his head, gazing at the sky as once more the fireworks shot up to burst open and spill fluttering sparks of gold and red in a hissing rain. Through the sparkles came a toy airplane, hauling a hand-lettered and quickly-made banner;

“Vincent Percival Ishityounot Valentine – please have dinner with me. – Cid Fucking Highwind.”

“Percival?!” said Barret. He winced as Aeris elbowed him.

Vincent just smiled. He had no idea where this friendship would end, but he had to admit he really rather liked the way it was starting.