Turning
Elena looked around at their cell with an impatient sigh. She had ascertained four times that there were no loose bricks, the bars were quite solid, and the lock didn't just come off. She considered trying the "playing sick" trick, but decided their captors didn't care whether they lived or died.
She glanced over at Vincent. "This is hopeless," she groaned. "Any ideas?"
"None." He shook his head slowly. "I just don't know. I guess we'll just have to wait until Lucrecia and whoever she's working with comes back. Whoever that is, and whenever it is." He sighed. "I wonder how long we've been in here..."
Elena shrugged. "Maybe a day. At least we've been fed. Once." She scowled. "It was crap, though."
He gave a brief smile. "Yeah. It was pretty bad, wasn't it?" After a moment of silence, he entreated, "Tell me about yourself."
She shrugged. "What is there to know? I was born a bastard outside of Midgar. That is, illegitimate. My mother brought me into the city while she searched for a job. We became stuck there, because we had no money and my mom had no job. When I turned five, she gave me to Shinra in exchange for another week of survival." She sighed. "I hardly even knew her. I had affection for her, I guess. I think I remember crying when she left."
Vincent frowned. "I'm sorry."
"What's there to be sorry for?" she asked rhetorically. "I barely remember her. Besides, I don't mind. If it weren't for her giving me up, I would probably be dead." She sighed again. "It's sad in some ways, though. The worst thing about growing up as a street kid, stealing so your own mother can live, is that you never see any color or beauty. The closest I ever got was the gaudy lights of the Wall Market. And no trees or plants grow in Midgar." She frowned. "Ever since I could think coherently, all I wanted to do was to see a tree in autumn. To see the leaves turn from green to red and yellow. Some children wished for a pony or a new bike. I wished to see the leaves turn."
"It must be hard growing up on the streets." Vincent was touched somewhat by her confession.
"It is. It's very difficult. But there simply isn't anything you can do about it." She frowned slightly, then quoted a common phrase: "'Once you enter Midgar, you are just in another big city. Once you get on the streets, you're there for good.'"
"I'm always thankful I didn't have to deal with that problem. Much." Vincent closed his eyes. "My mother and father were both fairly wealthy. That was, before they died. Afterwards, I was left with a fair amount of money, a huge house, and a lovely view of the street kids trudging past. One day I invited one in. He started sleeping in the house, and brought several of his friends with him. And thus the Turks were started."
"Why the name, 'the Turks'?"
"Heh. Sort of an amusing story, that. Once a week, all of us would gather together. Someone would buy a huge turkey, which we would cook up and all share. Shinra's feared specialists, its dreaded fighters, each worth an army, are named after a bird that will occasionally drown itself when it rains."
Elena giggled. "That is rather ironic, isn't it? Well, it's nice to know you have a sense of humor."
He smiled wanly. "My humor is probably a bit too dry."
She shook her head. "Nah. But, anyway, why did you turn to Shinra, eventually?"
He frowned, not in anger, but in thoughtfulness. "Well, no amount of money lasts forever. The few people who had jobs couldn't support the rest. So, we decided to offer our services to Shinra." He sighed. "I wonder now if that was a mistake, but if it was, neither of us would be who we are or where we are." He shook his head, then muttered softly to himself, "Though if that would be such a bad thing, I don't know..."
There was a sort of soft pity in Elena's eyes as she touched his shoulder gently. "Your life is simply a part of you. We can't go to the past to change our decisions, and we can't know what will happen in the future, so we must simply accept the present." She sat down next to him, smiling sadly. "Naturally, that's easy for me to say, for I've never experienced real pain, not like you, I suppose. But..."
Vincent shook his head. "I'm sorry, Elena."
She was taken aback. "Why? For what?"
"This is all my fault. If I hadn't convinced you to come along, then Reno and Rude wouldn't be sitting in a jail cell, waiting for trial, and you wouldn't be sitting here, waiting for, well, who knows what? I've made so many bad decisions on this trip, and I apologize. Though it isn't nearly enough."
"You know, at one point I hated you," Elena said. "You killed Tseng, or, at least, I thought you did. Being around you has left me with doubts. I hated you before, but now...I don't know why." She laughed, slightly bitterly. "And if there's one thing about me that's almost unshakable, it's my conviction in my hatred."
Vincent smiled at her, one of the first true smiles he had shown in years. "I am very glad to hear that. I value your opinion, and I do dislike it when people hate me."
She smiled back at him, and they looked at each other for several seconds.
His eyes are frightening, but beautiful, too. Elena simply gazed into his eyes, when-
Someone cleared their throat slightly nervously beyond the door of their cell. They turned to look at the young guard who had interrupted them.
"S-sir, miss, p-please come along with m-me," he stuttered, his hands shaking as he opened the door to their cell. "Y-you have b-been requested b-by him."
"Who?" asked Vincent, but the guard simply shook his head and motioned with the gun he carried. He looked too nervous to say another word. Several other guards also stood with them.
It seems whoever "he" is, he respects us. Elena shook her head as she fell into step. He's no fool, then.
They walked for several minutes in a dizzying series of confusing turns, until they were both completely lost. The guards, however, weren't, and they soon emerged in a large chamber. Standing in the center of it was a man with his back to them, several guards, and Marlene.
The young girl looked at them through tear-swollen eyes, and shrieked, "Mr. Vincent! You came!" She tried to run to them, but was restrained by one of the guards, and after several seconds of screaming, was carried off.
The man turned around with a chuckle. He was wearing a lab coat, and had black hair. He wore glasses and a small, neat mustache. Vincent had no idea who he was, until he spoke.
"Well, Vincent Valentine. It has been far too long." The man smiled kindly, but there was a hint of madness in his eyes. He chortled again.
Vincent simply gaped at him. "Professor...Professor Gast?!"
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