*
The moment Vincent took that first step toward the inn, Natalie spun from the window, grabbing at the frayed tatters of her composure as she stalked from her room to the stairs. Vincent entered the lobby as she reached the middle of the stairway. He paused, but she didn't. She strode past without a word, hoping and yet dreading that he would follow. He did, but after a moment's hesitation.
"I don't want to deal with this right now, Vincent." And a part of her regretted the snap and snarl of her tone. "I--You have no idea how furious I am at the moment." But she still couldn't admit that she fell victim to the greatest part of her rage.
He easily matched her stride. "I know," he said. "We need to talk."
"All we do is talk," she snapped. He met her gaze. Natalie dragged her eyes from his before he could read what she tried to hide. "I am oh so tired of talking. Of controlling myself when I'm with you. Of being--"she gulped--"of being alone."
"I know. So am I."
She halted so suddenly that he took a step past before turning. "Then why?"
"That is what we need to face. I have explained myself to you, Natalie, and you said you understood. Now you act as if you have forgotten what I told you."
Natalie crossed her arms and glared beyond him to the mansion. "I haven't. I just don't care anymore."
His gaze burned, raising the hairs on the back of her neck. "Then I suppose we have nothing more to talk say to one another."
Natalie's focus shifted, her brain skulking back as she processed his words and his expression. The rigid stance. His arms straight at his sides. Her anger dwindled. "What do you mean?"
"If you no longer care what I feel, then you are no longer the woman I grew fond of these short days. Professor Natalie Long was determined, yes, but also sensitive to the feelings and desires of others."
She winced. "That's not fair. I'm human."
"And I am not."
She reached out. "That's not true!"
"Then why would you think I am not capable of also changing my decision?"
"Then why won't you?"
"I have explained the 'why'! Natalie, why must I continue to clarify what I know you understand? It is challenge enough being by your side when your breath smells of honey and your hair of flowers--must you also tear at each lash which restrains my desire?"
Natalie lowered her gaze, cheeks burning with delight and shame.
"You crave instant gratification, this I understand, but--"He stepped forward, lifting her chin until her gaze met his. "Natalie, you are the first to show a love for my darkness and light, but I refuse to share your innocence with the creature who lurks inside. It would taint the sharing of our intimacy and create regret. If you are able to cure this blackness . . . Can you not understand?"
A tear trailed down her cheek. "I . . . ." Natalie pulled his hand from her chin. "I am so tired of being the responsible professor, Vincent. I want to be reckless and passionate. I don't want to be told to 'run along' and then do it."
"You are passionate." His hands gripped her arms to give her a shake. "You are reckless. What else is responsible for your tenacity in searching me out and then falling in love with what you found? Do not change any aspect of who you are, Natalie. That is what I love."
Natalie blinked. "Wh--What did you say?"
"I said that I love you as you are. I love your innocence, your passion, and your tendency toward absentmindedness when engrossed in a project. I love your eyes and the brightness of intensity that is always there." He stepped closer, caressing her cheeks with his thumbs. "I love your blushes. Your temper. I love the way you swear when angry or distressed. I love you, Natalie, and that is why I wish to wait. Please understand."
She gazed up at him with wide eyes. "Please. Say it again."
"I love you."
"Again."
Vincent pulled her close, taking in a deep breath of her hair. "I love you."
"I . . . ." Natalie tightened her arms around him, wiping her cheeks against the silky softness of his shirt. "I am sorry I lost my temper. I got so frustrated… Of course, you know all that. You just deal with it better than I do."
"Only because I have suffered too many years of self-restraint." His grip tightened around her. "I could stay like this until the seasons changed, Natalie. Like this, in your arms, feeling your heat so close against mine--it is a challenge to keep from taking you, making you solely mine. But then I remind myself of the future you desire for me, the one I crave for myself. I will not settle for less than that. Not yet."
"I love you no matter what, Vincent, and sometimes I think you forget."
"I do not. That is what strengths my decision to wait."
Natalie buried her face in his shirt, filling her lungs with his musk. "This is what I needed, Vincent. Just this." Vincent pressed his cheek against the top of her head. "Can we stay like this for a while? Just like this."
"Yes. Yes, we can."
XV
THE WAITING
Natalie stretched and pushed the textbook aside. Vincent looked up from the book he read--a history of the Cetra Natalie published years ago--to send her a quizzical glance. She smiled. "It is fascinating, the human body. Simply amazing how it all works together."
"Are you finished?"
"Yeah. I quizzed myself several times and scored 100%." She rested her arms on the table, stretching out to take his hand in hers. "It isn't the same as medical school, but it is all I can do at the moment."
"It will be enough."
"I hope so." She gave his hand another squeeze before releasing it to stand. Late-morning risers began to fill the Item Shop, and Natalie could feel the eagerness begin to tug at her. "Let's go. I should start while all this information is fresh."
Vincent stood to follow, falling into step beside her as they made their way to the mansion. For the last three days she studied harder than she ever remembered in her life. After all, his cure depended on her success. No. No, it felt a greater weight than simply his 'cure'. His existence. Their happiness. Futures. They all rested within her trembling fingers.
Vincent's step slowed and halted at the open door of his one-time sanctuary. His gaze fell on the scarred, black-lacquered coffin within. "Did I ever rest there?"
Natalie stared at the coffin, the surging rage at all stood for leaving her shaken and trembling. "Yes, you did. For a very long time." And those memories of her sometimes frantic search propelled her through the door. Vincent followed, standing beside her as she stared at the black coffin.
"There. Right there is where I first saw you," she told him, voice tender with the hint of tears. "This is where I first came to the realization I would do this no matter what. No matter how long it took to convince you to come out, I would cure you."
Natalie stepped close to the box, her gaze tracing each line and scar. "I grew to hate this thing. Hated everything it stood for. How it meant you had been thrown away, as if you didn't mean anything to anyone. Hated how it meant you were dead in the eyes of all who knew you. It kept you away from me, and away from the life I wanted to give you." Her voice cracked, a single tear burning its escape from her eye. She lowered her chin and squeezed her eyes shut against the onslaught.
"Natalie." Vincent rested a hand on her shoulder. "Natalie, do not hold this hatred so close."
Her breath sounded ragged as she nodded and turned away. "I know. I--Looking back doesn't help anyone. It doesn't prove anything. Doesn't make it go away, though I sometimes wish . . . ." She shook her head. "No, it's just--" Vincent stepped forward to embrace her. Natalie gave a choked sob. "I hurt, Vincent. I hurt for you every time I think about what you have seen and done. About what they did to you, tearing your soul apart bit by bit. It's like my entire insides twist inside out and then do it all over again . . . ."
Vincent smoothed her curls.
Natalie pushed away, eyes flashing as she struck out at the coffin with a steel-toed boot. "You lost! Do you hear? You can't torture him anymore! " She kicked it
again, the box collapsing with cracks and splintered shards. Vincent tried to pull her away but she shook loose, reaching inside to grab fistfuls of the worn satin. She yanked back with all her strength--the rich purple material gave way, the horrid ripping sound shuddering Natalie's actions to a halt. She stared down at the shredded material pieces dangling from her fingers. She thrust them away from her.
Vincent gently pulled her to her feet and away from the coffin. "Natalie."
"I . . . I'm sorry." She gulped, covering her face with cold hands. "I don't know what . . . ." She shook her head. "I'm sorry."
Vincent guided her from the room to the opposite wall, taking her hands in his as he watched her pale face, expression stricken. "Natalie, are you all right?"
"I don't know what happened, Vincent. I . . . I was just so angry. I couldn't think of anything but--" She shuddered. How easily she could have lost herself to that rage--
"Perhaps you should rest, Natalie."
"No." She shoved back, meeting his gaze. It glowed with concern. "No, Vincent. The time in the lab will help. It always has. Focusing on you and your cure? Yes, that will help."
"I have waited this long," Vincent pressed. "A day more will not matter one way or the other."
"No. Your entire life--and mine--is balanced on the edge of a chasm, Vincent, and I am tired of staring down into the darkness. The cure waits just down that hall, and I refuse to allow the memories festering in this mansion and basement laboratory keep me from it. Hojo is not going to keep me from giving you what you want--I am going to cure you!"
"Natalie--"
She grabbed his arms to give him a shake. "No! I had a moment of weakness. That is all. I've had them before. So have you. I can deal with it. As long as there is a chance, I am moving forward. I have studied and researched and hypothesized and theorized until I can't fit another figure in my head. All that is left is stepping down that hall to the hope. Don't tell me to stop, Vincent, because I won't!"
Vincent drew her tight against him, his breath a caress of warmth and passion against her neck.
Natalie released a choked breath. "I won't." She wanted to stand with him against his dark history, together. How else could he continue forward? How could she? He wanted wholeness, and that possibility laid was within her grasp.
He stroked her hair and then stepped back, his gaze carefully averted to the beckoning door of the basement laboratory. All their hopes were there. There was nothing remaining but a step forward. Natalie released a slow breath as she took his hand and closed the gap to their future.
This is what I do, she reminded. Science. Results. It was her identity. Her strength. One she could offer to him. They paused at the laboratory's entrance.
"I see you were here recently," Vincent observed.
"Yes." Natalie smiled. "Twice, in fact."
"You had already decided today would be the day."
A simple statement "I hoped, though I refused to ingrain it in my head as a definite. All depended on the results of my quiz this morning."
"Yes, but how many times have you completed said quiz with such high results?"
Natalie flushed, double-checking the tools. "Oh, about a hundred or so. I lost count."
Vincent smiled. "I suspected as much."
"See? You were enjoying yourself as much as I was."
"I did not deny that fact."
Natalie gestured him to the table. "Come on. Let's get you ready."
Vincent eased himself up onto the bed and lay back, resting his claw on the side table as before. She dissembled the cool surface and then paused. Her gaze flickered to his shirt-sleeve and the insertion points hidden from view.
Natalie cleared her throat, tapping her forehead with a solitary finger. "Uh, Vincent, you will need to take off your shirt."
He sat up, lips twitching upward as he unbuttoned the black-silk shirt and handed it to her. "You have likely desired the same result for quite a while."
Natalie flushed as she set the shirt aside. "Don't start."
Natalie cleared her throat, struggling to keep her eyes from the defined musculature of his chest. Instead, she wrestled her attention to the claw and its insertion points. There was a metal guide which kept the tubing from being jostled, thereby reducing the risk of being accidentally--or purposefully--removed. When she tenderly investigated his skin just behind the metal guide, she could tell they were submerged an easy one- or two-inches into his arm. She would need to remove them via surgery without a doubt. The tubing, however, could be nothing more than a type of I.V., with removal being as simple as retracting the inserted needle. Whether the guides had a catch which needed to be released before they would easily retract was just one of many mysteries she would be required to probe and investigate.
Natalie straightened, cast Vincent a reassuring smile, and turned for the clamps that would interrupt the Jenova cells flowing into his body. She hesitated for a moment before leaning forward and clamping off the tubing. It cleared of fluid. "Now we wait."
"How long?"
She shrugged and sat on the bed, reaching out to brush the hair from his face. "To be honest, I have no way of knowing with any real certainty. Up to this point, I thought the Jenova cells were circulated semi-continuously, yet I have never seen the tubing empty. So, it could simply take a few minutes for a reaction. If it does only re-circulate every few hours, that is how long your body will take to react."
"Any idea what reaction to expect?"
"No." Another fact she would rather have known. Another way she felt as if she used Vincent for an experiment. "Prepare yourself for the worst, I suppose."
He took her hand and pulled her toward him, pressing her cheek against his chest. She closed her eyes, relishing the warmth of his smooth chest against her face. The stroke of his hand in her hair. The rhythm of his heart and breath.
"Natalie . . . I am tempted to ask you to leave. So you don't see the pain."
"I know." Her lips caressed his chest. "But I won't go. If there is pain, I want to be here with you. Please don't ask me to go."
Vincent released a deep breath. "Then we wait together."