[Four years in Hojo's lab, he became very much attuned to the man's moods and whims. He thought he was the greatest genius in the world; really, he was just a madman trying to rebuild the toy that disappeared in Nibelheim's reactor. "Vain" is the least offensive word that should be used to label the man.
...Yeah, maybe he has a personal reason for feeling some disdain for Lucrecia, after what she put her baby through. He's got no respect for people who submit others to unwilling experimentation, and as an infant Sephiroth definitely couldn't consent.]
Sephiroth thought his mother was Jenova the whole time. It came up in Nibelheim before everything went to hell. Too bad you probably wrecked your chance at having a nice chill conversation with him.
[ It's probably not a surprise that Vincent is aware of that. The huff was not amusement at Zack's expense. It came close to empathy and perhaps a trace of regret.
How things might have changed if Vincent had not let himself sleep so deeply, drowning in nightmares. Maybe he would have been more aware of the renewed activity that time. Regret... but not overt self-recrimination.
Hojo had been the one who imprisoned Zack and Cloud and that came as no surprise; the scientist would have put any convenient 'specimen' under the knife. The only reason humans hadn't been on the slab more often was probably because it was harder to write off when people went missing.
At least until Sephiroth provided a huge supply. And Hojo became department head. Two decades changed a lot of things. ]
The plan was to make it quick. If I failed... Either way I wasn't expecting to have a chat.
[ Vincent had eyed Zack for a moment. It may become obvious in that moment that Vincent does not.... know that particular little trick about Folkmore and death. ]
I don't expect forgiveness. Or understanding. In the end, I attacked a child. Even before I realized my mistake, I was ready to accept that sin.
[Zack's lips curl into a grimace at his first comment - of course he'd know, if Cloud shared the real story during their journeys together - but he holds his tongue. Fine, fine. Vincent knows. The whole world might as well know, if Thirteen gets her way. Whatever. He's not here to let it wound him again. He's here to live.]
Look, I don't care what your reason or plan or whatever was. You screwed up and you get that now. I'm not the one who really gets to judge you for this. [Even though he will judge him a bit anyway.] I'm not gonna jump in the way if he wants payback, either.
[This guy probably knows that already, too.]
What I do wanna know is this: what's your plan now?
[ Vincent isn't going to belabor it either. It's clear Zack's moving on. And the gunman does admire that trait; it took him a long while to find his own peace on surviving. Sure their circumstances were different in a lot of ways. But it didn't undermine the worth of that sort of conviction Zack's shown in the slightest.
Another thing that might have gone differently? If Lucrecia wasn't already gone by the time he regained consciousness? It's over thoughts like these Vincent's shaking his head and dismissing to focus on the present. Zack will get another look though. This one's filled with bemusement.
Yeah he used the word plan, but it was not intended to try and explain himself. Just something to mention that he'd never been in a position to expect a 'chill conversation'. You've got a weird way of not judging someone there, Mr. Fair. ]
Good. Then I made the right choice.
[ Well more like the best one out of all bad choices. Talking to Zack on the way to Agrona was always part of this plan. And it's given him what he wanted; a good bead on where the former SOLDIER stands when it comes to the Sephiroth in Folkmore right now. Vincent's rough voice has been sounding a little strained. Not because of any hidden emotional duress; the man's simply been speaking more than he usually does. Maybe that's why his plans are spelled out in short, simple statements. ]
I'll get the locket repaired. Leave Sephiroth to you. Then I'll wait for him. Whatever answers he wants, I'll give.
[ Answers, yes. Vincent has no intention of submitting if Sephiroth wants go as far as to retaliate with violence, mind you. Which the teenager would be fully in his rights to go for, but that's beside the point.
But answers can be a very dangerous thing. And Vincent gives no indication that he plans to hold back. On anything. ]
[Don't judge how he judges!! You're the bigger jerk here, Vincent. (And Zack is not above being a little bit hypocritical.)]
Okay, fine. I can work with that. You should talk to Cloud before you do anything else when it comes to Sephiroth, though. If you're part of a team, quit acting solo. We had it handled.
[He's really not sure what Sephiroth will do, but he doesn't want this to end up becoming some kind of back-and-forth retaliation issue. He's gonna touch basis with Cloud and Aerith when he gets home - Vincent's whole secrecy thing isn't gonna fly when he's stealing people away in the middle of the night - but it's important that they all be on the same page here. And he's probably not the best person to be touching basis with Vincent for a while. He'll be cranky until the dust settles.]
[ Well someone has to be the biggest jerk. Might as well be Vincent.
There's another long look. A look of quiet contemplation over the past week or two he's been here. A look that may also be considering about a whole moment where either side could have brought up that something was being handled regarding Sephiroth.
But Vincent just... lets Zack voice the complaint without contest. ]
I plan to talk to Cloud ...and Aerith. But I can't promise anything.
[ Not because Vincent, personally, means to do anything that will hasten another encounter with Sephiroth. He will unintentionally do so but that's beside the point. What he can't predict is what the teenager will do.
At least stealing Zack away in the dead of night was only meant to be an emergency decision. It was never about keeping it from the two forever.
Vincent turns his head to face forward in his seat, closing his eyes. He's not trying to end the conversation with such an action; not precisely. But he is feeling a type of exhaustion creeping up. The train will take a bit more time; honestly at the hour he came for Zack, it'll probably be closer to dawn before they get to Agrona.
Plenty of time to ask more questions but a long time to talk. ]
[Zack doesn't really have much else to say for now; he's too annoyed and can't think of any more questions that aren't likely to just piss him off or (he assumes) get vague, unhelpful answers. For now he'd rather focus on just getting there and checking on Sephiroth.
He's not one for sitting still in the quiet, though, so with an exhaled huff he pushes himself to his feet, paces for a little bit, and then starts doing squats in the corner of the train car, enough to give them both some space but not so far that he can't be interrupted if either of them have something else they want to say. He'll keep being annoyingly active until they arrive. Sorry if you want any semblance of peace, Vincent. This guy doesn't know the meaning of the word.]
[ Zack, you are not anywhere near what it's like traveling with Yuffie.
Probably.
Vincent will be fine and now that the other man has chosen not to pursue further questions and even puts some distance between them to let off excess energy, the red-cloaked man leans a little further back. With a few hours ahead of them, it's even likely he dozes a little.
It's been an exhausting week.
Though there's always an eye that opens if Zack moves near, suggesting Vincent isn't letting himself fall too deeply into slumber. And as dawn begins to break, the train's notification that they're arriving at Oozlum Station has him shifting again and rising. ]
We're here.
[ Vincent had considered simply directing Zack on where to go and simply remaining on the train. But there was something to check. He doesn't plan to stay long, but at the very least he should make sure his instructions were followed.
Thus, if there isn't any protest, he will lead the way. And if, when they get to the hospital he seems to be avoiding the nurses catching sight of him? Well, don't worry about that. ]
[As if Zack and Yuffie aren't two peas in a pod...
Regardless, Zack manages to burn off enough anxious energy with his pacing and squats (and some jogging back and forth through the train car, in part to be a little petty and annoying but also because it's helpful to him) that once they reach the station he's slightly weary and thus more reserved and less angry. Burning off the outrage sure does wonders.
He follows Vincent at a calmer pace through the facility, though he can't help feeling on edge at the clinical display and the scent; he hates hospitals, they smell like a lab. Not that the dingy mansion basement was the cleanest, but the chemical scent it was does him in. It helps keep his mouth shut until they get to their destination, though he musters the effort to smile and wave at the nurses, which hopefully eases the sting of Vincent's presence.]
[They are noticed by the nurses - or at least Zack is, a few wave back, but don't stop them yet. .. Yet. There's questions to be answered! They want answers eventually! Blood types! Allergies! Medical directives! ... Answers neither man actually have. The hospital has a sense of civilian over military; time has been spent making the decor less forbidding, the lighting kinder to the eyes, the seating here and there actually reasonably comfortable (if easy to wash). It smells clean and a bit antiseptic, the paint and floor tiles chosen for their soothing colors instead of efficiency.
None of it at least LOOKS like a lab. And by glancing in doorways to other rooms on the way, arriving in the room Sephiroth's been taken to makes it pretty clear that the endeavor to not make it look like a lab is ongoing and deliberate. There's more things in this one, mismatched decor, an array of scavenged pillows, some blankets both folded and not tossed about in a distinctly haphazard manner. A table lamp next to spoon and relic, a corkboard full of someone's pictures of their pets, even a television playing some muted cowboy movie. It doesn't remove the hum of machinery, the quiet beep of monitors and sensors, but it ... dulls the effect a little. The trash hasn't been emptied from the night before, full of blood soaked gauze, bandages and broken feathers, and the remnants of a black outfit that had to be cut loose. Morning light gleams through the drawn blinds, a beam of pale inching its way across the floor. His chart's stuck in a pocket at the end of the bed, detailing the lengths the surgical team had to go through to keep him alive. Death may not stick here, but it had a cost. Best avoided.
Sephiroth himself has only moved once since he'd been put in the bed and given an IV, most of the monitors relying on some form of magic instead of the usual network of cables and wires. The wings are still there, the mark of a so-called Legend, but he'd rolled enough to pin the damaged one beneath himself and out of easy obvious sight, the other's feathers ruffled enough to hide the first's bandages. Every other one he could is equally hidden, either by light blanket or the hospital clothes in some half-aware urge to hide any sign of weakness, anything that could be poked and prodded at. Anything he could be scolded for. He'd been cleaned pretty well, so it's almost effective.
On a quick glance, aside from being far too pale even for him, the teenager could just be tired. On a longer study though.. so thorough was the recent injury and blood loss that he wouldn't be able to put up a fight even if he wanted to. In a day he'd be up and moving, however poorly; SOLDIERs are made of stern stuff. In a couple days he could resume some level of normal activity without much problem. In another week, he might be able to efficiently hide that he'd been hurt at all. But not now. Vincent's lucky; by the slow but steady beep of the monitors, he's not awake. That's going to change at the first sound that doesn't match the background noise of the hospital.]
[ The nature of hospitals can't be helped. Vincent is no less one who has unpleasant memories about labs and lab smells. But he has a good front of indifference, moving with precision to the room assignment.
How does he know? Occupied rooms tend to have charts, markers and paperwork. It's just a matter of knowing what to look for and narrowing down the options. And when one in particular stands out from the more clinical sterility of the rooms on the ward, Vincent pauses in the hallway.
For a second his eyes scan the room, landing briefly on what can be seen of the bed's occupant; for Vincent isn't letting himself be framed by the door itself. Then there is a look over his shoulder toward Zack.
Vincent turns to place his back to the wall as if he were making room for the ex-SOLDIER to pass him by. Not necessary but it's a symbolic gesture. As is the way he somewhat dramatically raises his right arm, hand extended and finger pointed at Sephiroth's room. ]
...
[ With the movement of the front mantle, Zack might also catch sight of the pink ribbon tied around the gunman's bicep. Just a small out of place but inconsequential detail, nothing that should be worried about. ]
[He can endure it, he just doesn't have to like it; that's Zack's usual policy. Truthfully, he hasn't spent a lot of time in or around hospitals. He'd had good luck with missions, usually surviving with just scrapes, bruises, or injuries minor enough that materia or a troop medic could take care of it quick. The medical facilities of SOLDIER were decent enough, even if that's not where most of the budget went. They weren't built to need hospitals, after all. And the worst injuries he'd ever had were in Nibelheim, caused by the kid in the bed before him (in some distant future) and on a cliff outside Midgar (at which point no hospital could spare him).
He passes Vincent, taking note of the ribbon - feeling something decidedly weird about it, and shoving it swiftly to the back of his mind because not important now - and moves to the side of the bed. Kid looks... rough. Not the worst he's ever seen (or done), but for a SOLDIER it doesn't look great. It's a testament to Vincent's strength and aim, as even for a kid, Sephiroth wasn't built to go down easy. Zack'll remember that. (He'll hope he won't need to, but. He'll remember.)
Since Sephiroth is still unconscious, Zack tugs over a chair and parks himself next to the bed, leaning back and crossing his arms. He can wait. As for Vincent...]
[He's not going to be out for long, by the way the steady blip on one of the many monitors jumps as soon as Zack speaks up. That's a sound that disrupted the ambience, was absolutely out of place, and although nothing's connected his voice to anything recognizable yet, nurses were likely constantly in and out tending to their duties. Most of those required an awake patient.
Vincent probably doesn't have long to make the choice Zack's given him. Linger long and it'll be made for him.]
[ Maybe. Maybe the low rumble of Vincent's voice, finally speaking for the first time since entering the hospital, could count as another part of the disruption. It can't be help.
And with that simple word Vincent's arm drops and he's silently- how on hospital tile with those boots- retreating down the corridor the way they came.
Maybe he does get briefly caught by a nurse on the way out, but by the time anyone could go chasing after him, he's going to have disappeared again. ]
[Zack makes a quiet "hmm" at the answer - not surprised, not disappointed exactly, but whatever, it's complicated and he's not in the mood to deal with whatever happens should the two meet again in this moment - and closes his eyes. It's fine, he's here to stay. If Sephiroth wakes up then and there, they can chat. If not, Zack's taking a nap until he stirs.]
[Not much would happen on Sephiroth's end at least, if only because that's not really possible right now, but with Turks you never know. When all the lights aren't thrown on and happy sounding chatter from some nurse telling him it's time to check some monitor or do another test or something, the fog is slower to clear. Long enough maybe for Zack to doze off a bit.
He's not really expecting company; the presence of the black haired SOLDIER isn't unwelcome but it's certainly ... really confusing. It takes sluggish thoughts a little bit to conclude that he probably hadn't managed to call for help or anything, but maybe someone checked his relic for contacts.
With all the slowness of a motivated worm, he moves just enough to reach one hand towards Zack with every intention of giving the lightest of pokes. This could after all be a dream, or a weird drug interaction hallucination.]
[Surprise, it is neither! The poke has Zack jerking alert, eyes snapping open, his legs splaying to balance himself so he doesn't fall right out of his chair.]
Whoa!
[His gaze shifts towards the source, shock slowly unraveling as he parses what he finds: Sephiroth.]
[Since presumably hallucinations can't be touched, Zack must actually be there. Dreams probably could be, but that seemed not likely the more sleep cleared away.
He'd have picked a more familiar location wouldn't he?]
...I think so.
[The hoarse rasp is to be expected, sounding great wasn't going to happen. Nor was sitting up, no matter how strong the impulse was to prove he's fine, even just to himself.]
Why are you here? [No that's not right, it's not what he was trying to ask, so he tries again, settling his arm back down. Zack is not an unwelcome sight, but it IS a mystery.] How did you know where I am?
[Zack gives him a returning poke- right to the forehead, since everything else is unknown-wound territory and he doesn't want to cause the poor kid more pain. Feel that? He's very real!
The question is sobering after a moment, though.]
The guy who did this to you broke into my room and woke me up to come and stay with you. It's been a weird night.
[Though there's a wince at being poked it doesn't seem to be a pain sort of reaction. No, he's grateful, really! It's nice to see someone he's reasonably sure isn't going to suddenly shoot him full of holes! .. Granted he also hadn't thought Vincent was going to and that didn't exactly turn out well.
Which might be why as Zack explains how he got there, his expression shifts a bit, terribly confused, attempting to work out exactly how any of that made sense. This effort fails, visibly. Maybe he hadn't shaken off sleep or fatigue enough yet.]
That's ... [COMPLETELY. NONSENSICAL. And Zack isn't likely to have any idea either, unless Turks operate very differently than what he thought. While it takes effort to both speak clearly and have a fully formed sentence, he's determined to do just that. It slows him down a bit.] ...I thought Turks were more professional than that.
Yeahhh, I don't think that guy's been a Turk for a long, long time. Not that that makes any of this better, but it explains one thing.
[That is, the lack of restraint. Though "professional" doesn't always come to mind when he thinks about the Turks he knows. Mostly Reno. He's a bit too off the cuff.
He doesn't really want to talk about Vincent, though. At least not yet.]
How you feeling? Have they been treating you well here?
His ID card was out of date by .. thirteen years. It looked recent though. I thought it was more like .. our time gap.
[But in the other direction. Earlier, and possibly under cover, but what sort of mission would require an outfit like that?
He hadn't thought about it as much as he probably should have. Trusting strangers, even ones that were potential allies, isn't something that should be done quickly it seems.
There's no quick response to the question, his gaze shifting away from Zack to scan the room again, measuring. This has in fact, been one of the most surreal experiences of his life but not for the typical reasons.]
...Tired. But it doesn't hurt as much as usual. [It didn't feel great to just lay there, feeling the pain of fresh surgery and a day's being hunted. But there's actually drugs in some of those IV bags, and while Hojo never bothered, they apparently did!] This is the strangest lab I have been in. They're kind but ... ask? About everything, when I'm awake enough.
[It's called 'consent'.]
And then the nurse that looks like a moth puts me back out when they're done.
[Thirteen years, huh. That makes sense, if he knew about Sephiroth's birth and his mom. Though if it was thirteen years too old when Sephiroth's at this age it means it's way out of date in Cloud's time. Damn. That is hella retired.
He sizes Sephiroth up, taking in his expression, what he can glean from the kid's condition, his general vibe. He does look tired, but not at death's door at least. Less pale than he'd been when Zack first arrived. It's a good sign.]
It's not a lab, it's a hospital. Believe it or not this is how med treatment is supposed to go.
[SOLDIERs really do get the short end of the stick. Doesn't surprise him that Sephiroth doesn't know what a hospital is like, though. He probably always had to go back to the lab... what a depressing thought.]
[Turks don't retire! It must be time shenanigans! ... There's information missing here, which he'll one day figure out. Thirty years cumulatively is a long time, and Vincent doesn't look THAT old.
He shifts a little under the older SOLDIER's scrutiny. He knows it's everywhere, signs of his own inability to fight off even one single Turk. Probably it was second-hand embarrassing for Zack.]
...It doesn't really encourage you to not fail next time though, does it.
[This is a normal thing, for normal people. Comfort and a television and painkillers and antibiotics. Normal things. It's almost insulting to his training and education to this point, but he knows it's not the medication that keeps him from being able to lever himself upright when he suddenly gives it a try, the dragging weakness entirely his own.]
I'll do better. It won't happen again.
[Sephiroth tries his best to sound reassuring, but it's hard to really look it while being cosseted by some hospital's efforts.]
[Honestly neither do SOLDIERs, it's pretty effed up. Either way, he seems to be less-Turk-like these days, especially since he was part of Cloud's group and they not only fought Shinra but killed Hojo and Sephiroth, so.
Zack considers that comment with furrowed brows, and shakes his head.]
Listen... what happened wasn't your fault. He shouldn't have done it. You're not the one who has to do better in this case.
[He knows what it's like, to feel like a failure even when the cause of the problem isn't anything you did. He gets it. But he wishes there'd been someone around back then, someone he could tell everything (without worrying about classified or bureaucratic bull) who could in turn tell him it wasn't his fault, or his failure.
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[Four years in Hojo's lab, he became very much attuned to the man's moods and whims. He thought he was the greatest genius in the world; really, he was just a madman trying to rebuild the toy that disappeared in Nibelheim's reactor. "Vain" is the least offensive word that should be used to label the man.
...Yeah, maybe he has a personal reason for feeling some disdain for Lucrecia, after what she put her baby through. He's got no respect for people who submit others to unwilling experimentation, and as an infant Sephiroth definitely couldn't consent.]
Sephiroth thought his mother was Jenova the whole time. It came up in Nibelheim before everything went to hell. Too bad you probably wrecked your chance at having a nice chill conversation with him.
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[ It's probably not a surprise that Vincent is aware of that. The huff was not amusement at Zack's expense. It came close to empathy and perhaps a trace of regret.
How things might have changed if Vincent had not let himself sleep so deeply, drowning in nightmares. Maybe he would have been more aware of the renewed activity that time. Regret... but not overt self-recrimination.
Hojo had been the one who imprisoned Zack and Cloud and that came as no surprise; the scientist would have put any convenient 'specimen' under the knife. The only reason humans hadn't been on the slab more often was probably because it was harder to write off when people went missing.
At least until Sephiroth provided a huge supply. And Hojo became department head. Two decades changed a lot of things. ]
The plan was to make it quick. If I failed... Either way I wasn't expecting to have a chat.
[ Vincent had eyed Zack for a moment. It may become obvious in that moment that Vincent does not.... know that particular little trick about Folkmore and death. ]
I don't expect forgiveness. Or understanding. In the end, I attacked a child. Even before I realized my mistake, I was ready to accept that sin.
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Look, I don't care what your reason or plan or whatever was. You screwed up and you get that now. I'm not the one who really gets to judge you for this. [Even though he will judge him a bit anyway.] I'm not gonna jump in the way if he wants payback, either.
[This guy probably knows that already, too.]
What I do wanna know is this: what's your plan now?
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Another thing that might have gone differently? If Lucrecia wasn't already gone by the time he regained consciousness? It's over thoughts like these Vincent's shaking his head and dismissing to focus on the present. Zack will get another look though. This one's filled with bemusement.
Yeah he used the word plan, but it was not intended to try and explain himself. Just something to mention that he'd never been in a position to expect a 'chill conversation'. You've got a weird way of not judging someone there, Mr. Fair. ]
Good. Then I made the right choice.
[ Well more like the best one out of all bad choices. Talking to Zack on the way to Agrona was always part of this plan. And it's given him what he wanted; a good bead on where the former SOLDIER stands when it comes to the Sephiroth in Folkmore right now. Vincent's rough voice has been sounding a little strained. Not because of any hidden emotional duress; the man's simply been speaking more than he usually does. Maybe that's why his plans are spelled out in short, simple statements. ]
I'll get the locket repaired. Leave Sephiroth to you. Then I'll wait for him. Whatever answers he wants, I'll give.
[ Answers, yes. Vincent has no intention of submitting if Sephiroth wants go as far as to retaliate with violence, mind you. Which the teenager would be fully in his rights to go for, but that's beside the point.
But answers can be a very dangerous thing. And Vincent gives no indication that he plans to hold back. On anything. ]
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Okay, fine. I can work with that. You should talk to Cloud before you do anything else when it comes to Sephiroth, though. If you're part of a team, quit acting solo. We had it handled.
[He's really not sure what Sephiroth will do, but he doesn't want this to end up becoming some kind of back-and-forth retaliation issue. He's gonna touch basis with Cloud and Aerith when he gets home - Vincent's whole secrecy thing isn't gonna fly when he's stealing people away in the middle of the night - but it's important that they all be on the same page here. And he's probably not the best person to be touching basis with Vincent for a while. He'll be cranky until the dust settles.]
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There's another long look. A look of quiet contemplation over the past week or two he's been here. A look that may also be considering about a whole moment where either side could have brought up that something was being handled regarding Sephiroth.
But Vincent just... lets Zack voice the complaint without contest. ]
I plan to talk to Cloud ...and Aerith. But I can't promise anything.
[ Not because Vincent, personally, means to do anything that will hasten another encounter with Sephiroth. He will unintentionally do so but that's beside the point. What he can't predict is what the teenager will do.
At least stealing Zack away in the dead of night was only meant to be an emergency decision. It was never about keeping it from the two forever.
Vincent turns his head to face forward in his seat, closing his eyes. He's not trying to end the conversation with such an action; not precisely. But he is feeling a type of exhaustion creeping up. The train will take a bit more time; honestly at the hour he came for Zack, it'll probably be closer to dawn before they get to Agrona.
Plenty of time to ask more questions but a long time to talk. ]
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He's not one for sitting still in the quiet, though, so with an exhaled huff he pushes himself to his feet, paces for a little bit, and then starts doing squats in the corner of the train car, enough to give them both some space but not so far that he can't be interrupted if either of them have something else they want to say. He'll keep being annoyingly active until they arrive. Sorry if you want any semblance of peace, Vincent. This guy doesn't know the meaning of the word.]
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Probably.
Vincent will be fine and now that the other man has chosen not to pursue further questions and even puts some distance between them to let off excess energy, the red-cloaked man leans a little further back. With a few hours ahead of them, it's even likely he dozes a little.
It's been an exhausting week.
Though there's always an eye that opens if Zack moves near, suggesting Vincent isn't letting himself fall too deeply into slumber. And as dawn begins to break, the train's notification that they're arriving at Oozlum Station has him shifting again and rising. ]
We're here.
[ Vincent had considered simply directing Zack on where to go and simply remaining on the train. But there was something to check. He doesn't plan to stay long, but at the very least he should make sure his instructions were followed.
Thus, if there isn't any protest, he will lead the way. And if, when they get to the hospital he seems to be avoiding the nurses catching sight of him? Well, don't worry about that. ]
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Regardless, Zack manages to burn off enough anxious energy with his pacing and squats (and some jogging back and forth through the train car, in part to be a little petty and annoying but also because it's helpful to him) that once they reach the station he's slightly weary and thus more reserved and less angry. Burning off the outrage sure does wonders.
He follows Vincent at a calmer pace through the facility, though he can't help feeling on edge at the clinical display and the scent; he hates hospitals, they smell like a lab. Not that the dingy mansion basement was the cleanest, but the chemical scent it was does him in. It helps keep his mouth shut until they get to their destination, though he musters the effort to smile and wave at the nurses, which hopefully eases the sting of Vincent's presence.]
in which very little happens except scenery
None of it at least LOOKS like a lab. And by glancing in doorways to other rooms on the way, arriving in the room Sephiroth's been taken to makes it pretty clear that the endeavor to not make it look like a lab is ongoing and deliberate. There's more things in this one, mismatched decor, an array of scavenged pillows, some blankets both folded and not tossed about in a distinctly haphazard manner. A table lamp next to spoon and relic, a corkboard full of someone's pictures of their pets, even a television playing some muted cowboy movie. It doesn't remove the hum of machinery, the quiet beep of monitors and sensors, but it ... dulls the effect a little. The trash hasn't been emptied from the night before, full of blood soaked gauze, bandages and broken feathers, and the remnants of a black outfit that had to be cut loose. Morning light gleams through the drawn blinds, a beam of pale inching its way across the floor. His chart's stuck in a pocket at the end of the bed, detailing the lengths the surgical team had to go through to keep him alive. Death may not stick here, but it had a cost. Best avoided.
Sephiroth himself has only moved once since he'd been put in the bed and given an IV, most of the monitors relying on some form of magic instead of the usual network of cables and wires. The wings are still there, the mark of a so-called Legend, but he'd rolled enough to pin the damaged one beneath himself and out of easy obvious sight, the other's feathers ruffled enough to hide the first's bandages. Every other one he could is equally hidden, either by light blanket or the hospital clothes in some half-aware urge to hide any sign of weakness, anything that could be poked and prodded at. Anything he could be scolded for. He'd been cleaned pretty well, so it's almost effective.
On a quick glance, aside from being far too pale even for him, the teenager could just be tired. On a longer study though.. so thorough was the recent injury and blood loss that he wouldn't be able to put up a fight even if he wanted to. In a day he'd be up and moving, however poorly; SOLDIERs are made of stern stuff. In a couple days he could resume some level of normal activity without much problem. In another week, he might be able to efficiently hide that he'd been hurt at all. But not now. Vincent's lucky; by the slow but steady beep of the monitors, he's not awake. That's going to change at the first sound that doesn't match the background noise of the hospital.]
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How does he know? Occupied rooms tend to have charts, markers and paperwork. It's just a matter of knowing what to look for and narrowing down the options. And when one in particular stands out from the more clinical sterility of the rooms on the ward, Vincent pauses in the hallway.
For a second his eyes scan the room, landing briefly on what can be seen of the bed's occupant; for Vincent isn't letting himself be framed by the door itself. Then there is a look over his shoulder toward Zack.
Vincent turns to place his back to the wall as if he were making room for the ex-SOLDIER to pass him by. Not necessary but it's a symbolic gesture. As is the way he somewhat dramatically raises his right arm, hand extended and finger pointed at Sephiroth's room. ]
...
[ With the movement of the front mantle, Zack might also catch sight of the pink ribbon tied around the gunman's bicep. Just a small out of place but inconsequential detail, nothing that should be worried about. ]
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He passes Vincent, taking note of the ribbon - feeling something decidedly weird about it, and shoving it swiftly to the back of his mind because not important now - and moves to the side of the bed. Kid looks... rough. Not the worst he's ever seen (or done), but for a SOLDIER it doesn't look great. It's a testament to Vincent's strength and aim, as even for a kid, Sephiroth wasn't built to go down easy. Zack'll remember that. (He'll hope he won't need to, but. He'll remember.)
Since Sephiroth is still unconscious, Zack tugs over a chair and parks himself next to the bed, leaning back and crossing his arms. He can wait. As for Vincent...]
Staying or going?
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Vincent probably doesn't have long to make the choice Zack's given him. Linger long and it'll be made for him.]
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[ Maybe. Maybe the low rumble of Vincent's voice, finally speaking for the first time since entering the hospital, could count as another part of the disruption. It can't be help.
And with that simple word Vincent's arm drops and he's silently- how on hospital tile with those boots- retreating down the corridor the way they came.
Maybe he does get briefly caught by a nurse on the way out, but by the time anyone could go chasing after him, he's going to have disappeared again. ]
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He's not really expecting company; the presence of the black haired SOLDIER isn't unwelcome but it's certainly ... really confusing. It takes sluggish thoughts a little bit to conclude that he probably hadn't managed to call for help or anything, but maybe someone checked his relic for contacts.
With all the slowness of a motivated worm, he moves just enough to reach one hand towards Zack with every intention of giving the lightest of pokes. This could after all be a dream, or a weird drug interaction hallucination.]
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Whoa!
[His gaze shifts towards the source, shock slowly unraveling as he parses what he finds: Sephiroth.]
Hey, you're up!
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He'd have picked a more familiar location wouldn't he?]
...I think so.
[The hoarse rasp is to be expected, sounding great wasn't going to happen. Nor was sitting up, no matter how strong the impulse was to prove he's fine, even just to himself.]
Why are you here? [No that's not right, it's not what he was trying to ask, so he tries again, settling his arm back down. Zack is not an unwelcome sight, but it IS a mystery.] How did you know where I am?
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[Zack gives him a returning poke- right to the forehead, since everything else is unknown-wound territory and he doesn't want to cause the poor kid more pain. Feel that? He's very real!
The question is sobering after a moment, though.]
The guy who did this to you broke into my room and woke me up to come and stay with you. It's been a weird night.
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[Though there's a wince at being poked it doesn't seem to be a pain sort of reaction. No, he's grateful, really! It's nice to see someone he's reasonably sure isn't going to suddenly shoot him full of holes! .. Granted he also hadn't thought Vincent was going to and that didn't exactly turn out well.
Which might be why as Zack explains how he got there, his expression shifts a bit, terribly confused, attempting to work out exactly how any of that made sense. This effort fails, visibly. Maybe he hadn't shaken off sleep or fatigue enough yet.]
That's ... [COMPLETELY. NONSENSICAL. And Zack isn't likely to have any idea either, unless Turks operate very differently than what he thought. While it takes effort to both speak clearly and have a fully formed sentence, he's determined to do just that. It slows him down a bit.] ...I thought Turks were more professional than that.
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Yeahhh, I don't think that guy's been a Turk for a long, long time. Not that that makes any of this better, but it explains one thing.
[That is, the lack of restraint. Though "professional" doesn't always come to mind when he thinks about the Turks he knows. Mostly Reno. He's a bit too off the cuff.
He doesn't really want to talk about Vincent, though. At least not yet.]
How you feeling? Have they been treating you well here?
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[But in the other direction. Earlier, and possibly under cover, but what sort of mission would require an outfit like that?
He hadn't thought about it as much as he probably should have. Trusting strangers, even ones that were potential allies, isn't something that should be done quickly it seems.
There's no quick response to the question, his gaze shifting away from Zack to scan the room again, measuring. This has in fact, been one of the most surreal experiences of his life but not for the typical reasons.]
...Tired. But it doesn't hurt as much as usual. [It didn't feel great to just lay there, feeling the pain of fresh surgery and a day's being hunted. But there's actually drugs in some of those IV bags, and while Hojo never bothered, they apparently did!] This is the strangest lab I have been in. They're kind but ... ask? About everything, when I'm awake enough.
[It's called 'consent'.]
And then the nurse that looks like a moth puts me back out when they're done.
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He sizes Sephiroth up, taking in his expression, what he can glean from the kid's condition, his general vibe. He does look tired, but not at death's door at least. Less pale than he'd been when Zack first arrived. It's a good sign.]
It's not a lab, it's a hospital. Believe it or not this is how med treatment is supposed to go.
[SOLDIERs really do get the short end of the stick. Doesn't surprise him that Sephiroth doesn't know what a hospital is like, though. He probably always had to go back to the lab... what a depressing thought.]
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He shifts a little under the older SOLDIER's scrutiny. He knows it's everywhere, signs of his own inability to fight off even one single Turk. Probably it was second-hand embarrassing for Zack.]
...It doesn't really encourage you to not fail next time though, does it.
[This is a normal thing, for normal people. Comfort and a television and painkillers and antibiotics. Normal things. It's almost insulting to his training and education to this point, but he knows it's not the medication that keeps him from being able to lever himself upright when he suddenly gives it a try, the dragging weakness entirely his own.]
I'll do better. It won't happen again.
[Sephiroth tries his best to sound reassuring, but it's hard to really look it while being cosseted by some hospital's efforts.]
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Zack considers that comment with furrowed brows, and shakes his head.]
Listen... what happened wasn't your fault. He shouldn't have done it. You're not the one who has to do better in this case.
[He knows what it's like, to feel like a failure even when the cause of the problem isn't anything you did. He gets it. But he wishes there'd been someone around back then, someone he could tell everything (without worrying about classified or bureaucratic bull) who could in turn tell him it wasn't his fault, or his failure.
Shinra needs better mentors. Shinra needs better everything.]
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