Sleeping Beauty

Rating: PG
Category: AU - always AU. A new take on an old tale
Pairing(s): Cid/Vincent
Warnings: Angst
Summary: Adventures end, but life goes on.
Notes: Game-Verse

This story has two accompanying illustrations by Animama.

I have climbed highest mountain,
I have run through the fields,
Only to be with you,
Only to be with you.

I have run, I have crawled.
I have scaled these city walls,
These city walls.
Only to be with you.

But I still haven't found what I'm looking for…
- U2, ‘I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For’.

Cid stopped, as if he had hit a wall. He had been working outside in his yard on a small aircraft, when it seemed suddenly all the life had drained out of him, and a massive crushing weight fell on top of him.

“What am I doing here?” he asked himself quietly. “I swore I would get out of here and never look back. Why am I here?”

He looked around, as if seeking an answer, but did not see one. All he saw was the same old shit. The same old yard, same old houses, same old people. It was as if he could feel himself rot, his life’s dreams turning to piled corpses. He honestly thought the weight of the depression crushing down on him would kill him right there, that he would just die and no one would ever know why.

“Cid?”

Slowly he turned, and saw Shera standing behind him. She was looking at him with worry in her brown eyes. He’d married her. Why in hell had he done that? Three years ago, after they defeated Sephiroth, he’d crawled back to this dump of a town and married a woman he had, for the most part, barely tolerated. But she loved him, and he knew it, and some part of him had hoped she would fill that void in his life, that gigantic hole that seemed to go straight through his soul. Funny how he had thought killing Sephiroth would solve everything.

“What is it?” he asked, his voice quiet and dull.

“Phone.”

“’Kay.”

He listlessly walked passed her, heading into the house. The same damned house he had hoped he would never see again. God why had he come back? He picked the phone up off a table scattered with doilies and cute kitsch. He hated kitsch. Shera loved it. Ceramic cats, dewy-eyed unicorns, smiling ducks in gardening outfits… it made him want to vomit. He put a cigarette in his mouth and lit it, then raised the phone to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Cid my man! How are ya!”

Cid managed a grin. “Barret! What the hell do you want, ya ugly bastard?”

“Happy birthday, asshole!”

Ah fuck. He was not up for this. Another year older, another year in this hole, jeez why couldn’t he just die in his sleep?

“Thanks, numb-nuts.”

“So what ya got planned for the day?”

‘Suicide,’ he thought, but didn’t say. “I dunno, Shera usually takes care of that.”

“How is Mrs. Highwind? You two planning on starting a family?”

‘Fuck no. That’s all I need.’ “Well she wants to, but I don’t think I’m grown up enough yet.”

“Well if women waited for men to grow up we’d never get anything done,” said a feminine voice. Cid laughed.

“Tifa! How’s life? Have you finally managed to bag Mr. Short Blonde and Angsting?”

“I heard that,” said a soft male voice.

“Hey Cloud!”

“Hey Cid. And I’ll have you know I’ve cut back on the angsting.”

“Yeah he only does it every other day now,” said Barret.

“Well that’s a start,” said Cid.

“I’m here too!” yelled a voice. “Hi Cid!”

“Hi Yuffie. Damn, sounds like the whole bunch is there.”

“We’re conferencing,” said Tifa. “Even Nanaki is here.”

“The dog uses the phone. I’m impressed.”

“I’m not a dog.”

“Cid laddie! Long time no see!”

“Hey Cait. Tell Reeve I said hi.”

“Will do. He says happy birthday.”

“Thanks. So the only person missing is Vincent. And Aeris, of course. Any idea where Vincent is?”

“Not a clue, man,” said Barret. “Ain’t seen hide nor hair of him in years. Last time I saw him was the day you asked Shera to marry you.”

“Yeah, that’s the last time I saw him too,” said Cid quietly.

“Well he always was a bit… odd in the head,” said Barret. “I mean I liked the guy, but… he was a pretty strange duck.”

“He was sweet,” said Tifa. “He was very gentle. I liked him.”

“No one’s saying he wasn’t a nice guy,” said Nanaki.

“But he was a flake,” said Barret.

“He was a sweetheart and I won’t hear you picking on him! Poor little thing. He never talked to you big bruisers but he talked to me. You’d be odd too if you had survived what he did. You know the reason he wore all that gear, the head scarf and the cape and the full length gloves is because he was scarred from the eyebrows down.”

“And you know this… how?” Cloud’s voice was softly teasing. Cid could practically hear Tifa blushing. Poor girl.

“I waked in on him in the shower,” she admitted.

There were howls of laughter. “It wasn’t funny!” insisted Tifa. “The poor guy was covered in marks, it was horrible, and some of them were autopsy scars, that big Y incision, and a slash across his throat. I don’t know what was done to him, or who did it, but he was hurt. So if he was strange it wasn’t his fault.”

“So how big was he?” asked Yuffie.

“I didn’t look!”

“She just kept her eyes on the scars,” teased Barret.

“The bunch of you are just awful and I don’t know why I put up with you.”

“You love us,” said Cloud.

“Fat lot of good it does me, Cloud Strife!”

They talked, laughing and chatting about nothing in particular, finally making plans to get together soon. Then Cid hung up, and once more felt that grey wall of depression slam down. And Cid realized he couldn’t stay. One more day, one more hour, one more minute in this town would kill him. He was dying on his feet, and he didn’t know what was wrong with him. All he knew was he had to go.

Shera bustled in, arms full of wild flowers. Funny how every day she seemed to blossom more, how she seemed to exude colour, and how every day he just felt more and more grey and tired.

“How is everybody?” she asked, arranging the flowers in a vase.

“Good,” he said. He made himself breathe.

He had to go. He was dying here.

He walked back into the yard and stared at the little plane. It was a bush plane; small and sturdy, built to land in remote areas without runways. A plane like that could take a man as far as he wanted to go. Cid closed the cowling over the perfectly maintained engine, and walked back into the house. Without realizing he was about to do so, he pulled out a duffle bag and began stuffing things into it.

“Cid? What are you doing?”

Poor Shera. She’d put up with so damned much from him for so long. She was a good person, she deserved better than what he could give her.

“I have to go,” he said quietly.

“Go?” she asked.

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“But you said your friends were all right.”

“They are, but I’m not. And if I don’t go I really do think I’m gonna hang myself.”

She gasped. “Cid I had no idea you felt that way! But why do you have to leave? Where are you going? Cid whatever it is, I can help you fix it!”

“No, Shera, you can’t. Because I don’t know what’s wrong. All I know is I can’t stay any more. You’ll be okay. You have this house and your family and a job and friends… you have everything you need right here. I’m just… dying on my feet.”

“You can’t be serious! You’re walking out on me after three years of marriage just like that? No reason? I don’t understand! What did I do?”

“Not a damned thing, Shera. Not a damned thing. This isn’t your fault. You tried. God knows you tried. I just… can’t be here anymore.”

She watched him pack, picking things up and stuffing them into that ugly green duffle bag that had survived the battle with Sephiroth.

“Oddly enough,” she said quietly, “I’m not surprised. I’m sad, but not surprised. You’ve hated it here ever since…”

“Let’s just not talk about that, okay? The house is yours, I had it signed over a couple weeks ago. The business is yours too, I know you can handle it and I don’t want to walk out and leave you with nothing.”

“Where will you go?”

“North. Don’t ask me why. I just need to go north.” He finished packing and turned to look at her. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too. I love you, Cid. I always have.”

“Yeah, well, you always did have lousy taste.”

She smiled and walked over to him, hugging him tightly, feeling him return the embrace. “You know after you find what you’re looking for, you can visit.”

He hugged her back, smiling. “Don’t worry, I will.” He kissed the top of her head, then stepped back. “Thanks for letting me go.”

“Well I’ve lived with you when you’re miserable, I’m not anxious for a repeat performance.” She stood on her toes to kiss him, and then watched as he walked out of the house.

Cid pretended he didn’t hear her start to cry when he shut the door.

***---***

It was getting cold, and the year was growing old. He had been in the deep woods of the north continent for eight months, freezing and starving and searching, crawling out of the bush from time to time for a bath and a shave and new clothes, then he was off again, combing the woods in a strange, self-inflicted torment. There was something out there, something he wanted, something he desperately needed and had no idea whatsoever as to what it could be. Maybe he was crazy. Maybe the boredom of Rocket Town had driven him insane. He didn’t know. All he knew was he felt better here than he had back there, and if that made him insane then so be it. He would figure things out eventually.

Cid paused and looked up at the sky, a snowflake delicately landing on the end of his nose. The sky was darkening, and night was fast approaching. Time to find shelter. He started forward, but paused after only a few yards, stepping into an area he recognized. The City of the Ancients looked just as he remembered; silently wrapped in the dead past, still and uninhabited by anything save for a few animals. Well it wasn’t exactly cheerful, but it was safe, and there were plenty of places to find shelter.

He made his way down the remains of the ancient stone avenue to the great chamber they had come to call the amphitheatre; the place where the gigantic crystal reflected images onto a screen of falling water. It was a beautiful place, he had liked it there. It would be nice to see it again.

Cid walked into the amphitheatre, finding it lit softly by the crystal, filled with the soft melody of falling water and faint music coming from some unknown source. He remembered how incredible he had thought this place was when first he saw it, how he was so amazed by how the music could still play after so long. It was a wonderful, soul-soothing place. Maybe… maybe he would stay here a while. At least for the winter, maybe longer. He would have to see how he felt. No point wandering around in the dead of winter this far north anyway.

He hoisted his pack and walked up the cold stone stairs, stepping onto the upper level, and paused, seeing something odd. He lowered his pack and stepped forward, uncertain as to what he was looking at in the half-light. It was silhouetted in the soft blue illumination of the crystal. He did seem to recall some sort of alter being up here, but this didn’t quite look like that. Oh well. It had been a few years; maybe he just wasn’t remembering things right.

He began setting up camp, pitching his free-standing tent, laying out his bedding, setting up his oil lamp on a stone ledge. There was an old fire pit, probably for ceremonial purposes, large enough to keep the cold at bay. When all was ready, Cid looked around, satisfied. Yeah, this would do very nicely for a winter hideaway. He lit the fire in the pit and then ignited his small lamp, pleased with the results. The area was bathed in a gentle, friendly glow that made the stone structure seem homey. Hell maybe he would just stay here the rest of his life, become a strange old hermit. He could do that. Okay maybe not a total hermit. He’d leave once in a while to go bug Cloud and the crew. Maybe invite them up. Okay clearly he wasn’t going to be a hermit because being a hermit meant being alone. He’d be a quasi-hermit. Cid put a cigarette in his mouth and flicked his lighter, and saw something on the alter glitter, like gold. Curious, he lit his cigarette, and went for a closer look at the great stone table.

It was nearly eight feet long and about four feet wide, and he hadn’t a clue what it had been used for. It was carved with images of stylized animals and trees, and looked like a place to lay a sarcophagus more than anything. He drew near, and gazed down at it. Something was lying on it, covered in dust and spider webs. It looked like… a body. Cid cocked his head as he studied the dusty thing, then felt his eyes grow large with recognition.

“Vincent,” he whispered.

He was cold and still, lying on his back, covered in dust and cobwebs, his head tipped slightly to one side. His hands were resting on his stomach, fingers interlaced, his long legs crossed at the ankle. He was laid out as if dead, clad as always in his red cloak and headscarf, his gun still in his thigh holster, his brass gauntlet shining beneath the dirt and grime accumulated over the years. Cid stared, unable to believe what his eyes were telling him. Cloud had told him they had found Vincent lying motionless in a coffin, but until this very second, Cid had never really believed it.

“All this time, you’ve been here.”

Vincent was unmoving and icy, his long black hair spilling down off the edge of the slab, and when Cid gently placed his fingers on his white throat, he felt no pulse. Vincent was frozen in time, alive and yet not, sleeping through the long, cold years. Cid stepped back, shaken, his mind trying to grasp what he was seeing. Their adventure had ended, and Vincent had once more found a quiet place to dream. For how long would he have lain here had Cid not happened to find him? Decades? Centuries? It was almost too much to comprehend.

Cid drew close once more, looking down at Vincent, wanting to touch him, afraid to do so. Did he want to be awakened? Should he just leave him here to dream away eternity, like Sleeping Beauty in her silent and abandoned castle? Softly, without even realizing he was about to do so, Cid began cleaning the dust from his face, pulling away the grey death-shroud of cobwebs, using a handkerchief to wipe away the smears of grime

“Vincent? Do you hear me? It’s Cid.”

There was no motion, no sign, no hint he had been heard. Vincent was beautiful in his undeath; ivory perfection, laid on a slab, locked away from mortal eyes. Cid could gaze at him for the rest of his life, content to worship his silent beauty.

Cid began to feel a strange sensation in his chest; pain and regret, and he drew a quiet gasping breath, almost a sob, as he suddenly realized he had found what had been missing from his life; that gaping void in his soul he had sought to fill with Shera and airships and busywork. It had been Vincent all along, and he had been too damned stupid to realize it. Too stupid and arrogant and macho to get his head out of his own ass and see what had stood beside him for a year, gazing at him with red eyes like jewels, quietly begging for his attention. Vincent had vanished the day he asked Shera to marry him – how in hell could he have been so stupid? How could he have not made the connection? And now Vincent was here, buried once more in his nightmares, preferring them to human contact, and the heartache it brought.

Cid stroked the dusty hair, gazing at his face. What if Vincent never woke up again? What if all his searching had been destined to lead to this; dwelling in a dead city with the one he loved always just slightly beyond his reach?

Cid lowered his head and softly kissed the cold lips. It was a brief, tender kiss, tasting of dust and the grave, and things lost forever. For a long moment, there was no response, and then Cid heard the soft sound of a long, slow, deep breath. Vincent moved his head, and the red eyes flickered open.

“Cid?”

Cid felt his eyes well with unspilled tears, and he didn’t care in the least that Vincent saw how emotional he was. “Fancy meeting you here, Mr. Valentine.”

“Am I awake?”

“Yeah. You’re awake.” Cid sniffed, grinning like a fool as he smoothed the black hair. You know, if you’re going to insist on taking these hundred-year naps, the least you could do is toss a tarp over yourself. I’m not big on kissing dust.”

Slowly, Vincent sat up, moving with the surreal dream-like grace of the undead, gazing at Cid with gemstone eyes. “You kissed me?”

“Yeah. I hope that’s okay? I mean I guess I should have asked but you were… well… dead.”

Vincent smiled, his eyes soft. “It’s okay. Though I don’t think your wife will be pleased if she finds out.”

“I don’t have a wife anymore.” Cid sat down on the alter, facing Vincent. “You left the day I proposed to her. Have you been here all that time?”

Vincent nodded. “There wasn’t anything left for me. I came here to sleep.”

“You… felt something for me.”

Vincent nodded. “I loved you. I still love you. But you didn’t seem interested, and then you said you were marrying Shera. I couldn’t watch someone else I loved locked in a relationship for the wrong reasons.”

“I thought I loved her.”

“No, you thought you owed her something for all the years you mistreated her.”

“Well I did.”

“An apology. Not your soul.”

Cid nodded. “You’re right. And in the end I had to leave. I was dying on my feet, an ounce at a time.” He reached out and picked something out of Vincent’s hair, then said in a quiet, hoarse voice; “I didn’t even know you loved me. I’m so damned sorry, Vincent. I’m so sorry. You loved me, Shera loved me, and I just stomp through life oblivious to everything but the sound of my own bullshit, and all I do is hurt people.” He touched his face. “Can you forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive, Cid. I should have said something, but I kept my feelings to myself. Once more I stood back and did nothing while a person I loved made a mistake. I should be asking you to forgive me.”

“I would forgive you anything. I wish I had realized what I felt sooner. But I came looking for you, even… even though I didn’t know that was what I was doing.” He suddenly realized Vincent had been on this slab for nearly four years, no food, no water, nothing. He carefully picked him up, shocked at how very little he weighed. Cid carried Vincent over to the tent, taking him inside and carefully placing him on the bedroll. He took his hand, looking into his eyes.

“What do you need? What can I get you?”

“Something to drink would be appreciated.”

“Mint tea?”

Vincent nodded, and Cid smiled at him. “My Sleeping Beauty.”

“Does that make you Prince Charming?”

Cid snorted. “No I’m his cousin, Major Bonehead.” Then he softened. “I love you Vincent. I didn’t know that until I saw you on that slab, and I think it’s going to take me a while to get used to the idea because I don’t think I’ve loved anyone other than myself before. But… I finally opened my eyes and saw the light.”

“So you were sleeping, too. Locked in a nightmare, as I was.”

“Yeah, I guess I was. But from now on I’d like to do my sleeping with you, if that’s okay.”

Vincent touched his face, then kissed him tenderly. “I’d like that.”