There's Always Someone Tougher

Rating: R
Category: AU
Pairing(s): None
Warnings: Violence, bloodshed.
Summary: Cid gets a scare, Vincent gets a bath.
Notes: I keep finding these fics about Vincent getting raped. I told my friend Maldy that, in my humble opinion, anyone who tried to rape Vincent would end up in small chewy bits on the floor. She agreed. Five minutes after she and I had this conversation, someone sent me a pic that featured Cid raping Vincent. After telling the lady politely to please not send me any more such pictures, I decided to write a fic about what I thought would happen if someone tried to rape Vincent.

This story has a follow-up tale called 'Cid the Flasher'.
When you have finished this story, click here to read the sequel

This story has an accompanying illustration by Animama.

"Going out?”

Vincent nodded. Their room in the quaint little hotel was too hot, too close, and far too crowded with the four of them in there. He needed to roam alone in the darkness for a while, to bask in the cool and peace of the night. He watched as Cid walked up to him, standing close, raising broad, strong hands to smooth his cloak, and gently push the long black hair out of his face. If just days ago someone told him that he would be standing in a hotel room letting a man fuss over him, he would have been dubious at best. But he liked having Cid fuss over him. He liked Cid.

“Don’t go far,” said Cid. “We’ll just be downstairs in the restaurant having dinner.”

Vincent nodded, red eyes meeting blue. Cid edged closer, ever so slightly, and Vincent drew back, almost demurely, not entirely sure he was ready to be kissed. He did, however, permit Cid a gentle caress, and then left the room. Once in the hall, he heard Cloud and Barret begin making kissy-noises at Cid.

“Awwww…. Cid and Vincent, sitting in a tree,” said Barret.

“You’re just pissed because he likes me and not your ugly mug.”

“No, Cid. The sad truth is… well… me and Cloud both want you.”

Vincent smiled as within the room the predictable good-natured fight broke out. He listened to the sound of crashing and wrestling and laughing, then silently left the building, slipping outside into the blessed night.

He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, letting the soft rain of the gentle summer storm fall over his face. Not far away he could hear a river, and the muted, sleepy noises of water fowl bedding down for the night. It was a lovely little town, but it seemed a little too quiet to Vincent. Where were the young couples, out for a stroll? Where were the groups of friends out for a drink and a good time? The streets seemed oddly deserted for such a charming little burg. Even his own little village had a certain amount of nightlife, but here there was no one out. It was odd.

Vincent began making his way to the river, his cape fluttering as he moved with spectral ease. He spied the three men ahead of him, but thought little of it. They watched him, but then, most people watched him these days. Vincent suspected it had something to do with the red eyes. He did hear the word ‘pretty’ whispered, but assumed they were referring to something else.

He walked past the three men, and suddenly felt himself grabbed and brutally slammed into a brick wall, hard enough that he was stunned by the impact. Before he could get his bearings he was slammed again, harder this time, and then thrown into an alley. He hit the concrete with a thud and rolled to a stop in a puddle of gas-stained water. He felt himself grabbed roughly and turned onto his back. His three assailants had become eleven, and he knew he was in trouble. The man who had turned him over sat on him, pinning his shoulders to the concrete.

“You’re very pretty,” said the man. “Don’t you know anything pretty out after sunset is ours?”

Vincent felt his shirt torn from his body, then the man was trying to kiss him.

***---***

“So what’s to do that’s fun around here?” Yuffie asked the waitress, an older woman with a jaded manner.

“You’re doing it, kid,” she said as she refilled Barret’s coffee cup.

“Oh there must be something,” said Aeris. “What about movies, or clubs, or parks?”

The woman shook her head. “Curfew. Everyone off the street by eight o’clock. No clubs, no films, no parks.”

“But why?” asked Tifa.

“Gang trouble,” said the woman, collecting menus as the group prepared to give their orders for dinner. “Police think there’s about a dozen of the little bastards, attacking people, robbing them, raping them, and killing some of them. Our local sheriff wants them dead so bad she can taste it.” She indicated a woman seated not far away, dressed in a police uniform, seated with two other officers. “They got her little fourteen year old daughter last month. Dragged her right out of her aunt’s car. Beat her so badly she nearly died.”

“That’s so horrid!” said Tifa. “The poor child!”

“Well no going out for us, then,” muttered Yuffie.

“Well if it makes you feel any better, honey, they’ll go after anyone. Old, young, rich, poor, girls, boys…”

Cid’s head snapped up. “They’re going after guys, too?”

The waitress nodded. “Yeah. They got the Saunders boy, broke his back and raped him, raped his friend, too. Gone after guys as big as him.” She cocked a thumb at Barret. “I think they enjoy the challenge.” She looked at Nanaki. “They’d probably even go after you.”

Nanaki’s ears shot up in alarm. Cid suddenly jumped to his feet and grabbed his jacket.

“Vincent went for a walk. We have to find him.”

The waitress looked at the clock on the wall. “Well you have twenty minutes and then the sheriff will want to know what you’re doing outside. But if you ask me, he’s feeding the alley cats by now.”

Cid looked utterly horrified. “No,” he said quietly. “He’s not. And I’m going out to find him.”

“Not without us you ain’t!” said Barret. “Let’s get armed.”

“Someone has to stay here to let the rest of us know if he comes back,” said Cloud.

There was silence. No one wanted to stay behind. Finally Cait Sith raised a paw. “Me. I will.”

Tifa gave him her phone. “Okay. If he comes back, call.”

The sheriff and her men noticed the action, and rose from their table to approach the group.

“Is there a problem?” she asked.

“Yeah, we have a friend who went out for a walk without knowing about the trouble you’re having around here,” said Cloud. “We have to find him.”

She nodded. “Right. I’m coming with you.”

The group of people left the restaurant, pausing on the sidewalk, realizing they had no idea which direction Vincent had gone.

“Which way would he go?” asked Tifa.

Cid looked around, then turned to the sheriff. “Is there a river near by? He likes the water.”

She nodded. “This way.”

They headed down the street, following the sheriff and her men. They only made it a few blocks before they spied a small form standing in the shadows on the sidewalk. Cid broke into a run, catching hold of Vincent and pulling him close, feeling the tears come to his eyes.

“Vincent? Baby? Vincent are you all right?”

Vincent didn’t say anything, looking distant and shaken. Cid held him tighter, and was suddenly aware of an unpleasant cold, wet sensation. He drew back and looked down at himself. His jacket and t-shirt were wet with scarlet.

“Oh shit he’s soaked in blood! Vincent what did they do? Where are they?” He removed his coat and wrapped it around the smaller man, touching his face. Vincent pointed down the alley, still saying nothing.

“I’m taking him back to the hotel,” said Cid. He looked at the small body huddled in his arms, then held him close in a fierce embrace. “It’s okay baby I swear it is.”

He picked Vincent up, and turned and ran down the sidewalk, making his way to the hotel, carrying Vincent up to their room. He was horrified to discover when he set him down that there was more blood than he had realized. It soaked Vincent’s clothes, plastering the torn fabric to his skin, dangling from the hanging shreds of his pants in clots. Cid heard himself make a strange noise, hysteria mingled with horror, his heart pounding as he struggled not to vomit. He dropped his gloves and pulled off his t-shirt, letting it fall to the floor.

“Baby it will be okay, I swear. I’ll get you cleaned up.”

“Cid…”

“No don’t talk. It’s okay.”

Cid carried him into the bathroom, sitting him down gently on the floor and starting a bath. He then began carefully undressing him, peeling away the remains of the black shirt, and ripped pants. Normally Cid would have realized that putting someone who appeared to be bleeding heavily in the bath was not a wise move, especially in a rape case where he could be destroying vital evidence, but he wasn’t thinking. He was reacting to the situation, to the agony in his heart, to the idea that someone he loved had been so badly brutalized. He finally had Vincent out of his clothes, and he picked him up and sat him in the bath. By now Cid’s hands were shaking and he felt light-headed, his fingers tingling.

“Oh gawd baby what did they do?”

He began carefully cleaning Vincent off, using the washcloth to squeeze warm water over his hair and body, rinsing away the blood. Vincent gazed back at him, blinking red eyes. He was bruised in places, but as Cid slowly rinsed the blood away, he began to realize that he wasn’t finding any open wounds. Surprised, he reached into the water and pulled the plug, letting the red water drain away. Soon he was staring at a wet naked gunslinger in a tub; one who, apart from a few bruises, didn’t have a mark on him.

Cid stared at Vincent, his breath coming hard and fast as he began to understand the implications. Grabbing his phone, he called Cloud. The call was answered after the first ring.

“Cloud it’s not his blood,” said Cid.

There was a pause, then Cloud said quietly; “We know.”

“You…?”

Cloud held out the phone, so Cid could see the alley, lit up by police flashlights. The entire alley was bedecked in entrails, painted in blood, and littered with chunks of meat that had once been human beings. He could hear Yuffie throwing up, and someone screaming in misery to be allowed to die. Slowly, his hands shaking, Cid turned off the phone and set it aside. Vincent gazed at Cid, damp, streaked with watery blood, a piece of what looked to be a vein in his hair.

“I tried to tell you,” said Vincent softly.

“Yeah. I… guess you did.”

They stared at each other a little longer.

“Cid?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m cold.”

Cid blinked and shook his head. “Oh. Uh, yeah. Okay.” He put the plug back in and ran clean water into the bath, tossing in the courtesy bubble bath the hotel provided for good measure. He used the wash cloth to rinse more of the blood out of Vincent’s hair, then added shampoo and began gently scrubbing the long tangled tresses. Vincent just closed his eyes and let him clean him.

“You bathe strangers a lot?” asked Vincent.

“No, not normally. And we’re not total strangers; I’ve known you three weeks. Anyway… sorry. I was just… I mean I saw all the blood…”

“They grabbed me. There were eleven of them. And they tried to rape me. I defended myself.”

Cid watched Vincent pick up the soap and begin washing himself, letting Cid scrub his hair. He smiled as he felt Cid begin gently massaging his neck, his large hands working the fine muscles of his shoulders.

“How?” asked Cid. “I mean… you’re not all that big. And… a gun didn’t do what I saw on the phone.”

“That’s a long story,” Vincent said softly. “A very long, and very sad, story. I’ll tell you some day.”

Cid nodded, and picked up the wash cloth, squeezing water from it to rinse Vincent’s hair. Then he sat back, as if finally realizing how very far Vincent had permitted him to over step his bounds. Before he could say anything, however, Vincent looked over his shoulder at him.

“Wash my back?” he asked quietly.

Cid smiled, stroking the wet black hair. “Yeah sure, why the heck not.” He took the bar of soap Vincent offered him, and began washing his back.