*
Natalie's eyes snapped opened. She rolled onto her back, ears straining as she blinked into the darkness. Something wasn't right. She heard it again: a ruffle. A shift. A groan--she bolted to her feet. "Vincent," she gasped.
He thrashed, his face and body phasing in and out of horrific and monstrous forms.
"Vincent," she soothed, "Vincent, listen to my voice. I need you to be still. I know it hurts, but I need to take the clamps off." He gripped the sides of the bed, meeting Natalie's gaze with wild-eyed terror. She rested a cool hand on the feverish skin of his arm. "I know. It will be fine. I am right here. Just be as still as possible so I can take the clamps off. Can you do that for me?"
Vincent closed his eyes, jaw muscle twitching wildly even as she heard the grind of his teeth. His body went rigid as he focused every ounce of strength on keeping still. A cascade of twitches tumbled across his chest as the phasing slowed. Natalie pinched her lower lip and then reached out to withdraw the clamps. Fluid rushed into his arm-Vincent growled, his back arched in agony.
"It burns, Natalie! It burns like acid!"
Panic choked her as she replaced the clamps. His hands didn't release their tight clasp on the side of the bed. After several moments, he was able to settle into the mattress, his breathing ragged. "Maybe that will help relieve the phasing." Her voice quivered. "Vincent, I am so sorry. I . . . I didn't know this would happen."
Vincent clenched his jaw tighter, his hand reaching to cover hers. "It is not your fault, Natalie. It made sense that removing the clamps would stop the pain. There was no way you could know my body would lose its tolerance and reject the chemical base so fast."
"I don't like how this feels," she whispered. She caressed his arm. "I feel as if this is an experiment, and I never wanted that to happen."
"I know, but do your best. It will be enough." Vincent flinched, the tension of his body confessing to the agony. Then a grotesque merging of at least three different faces shifted across his features. He moaned. "Do not leave me, Natalie," he whispered through clenched teeth.
"I won't. I'm right here." Natalie clutched at his hand, even as it expanded, phasing into so many horrific versions of the same extremity. "I will stay right here. I promise."
Natalie fought back the tears and desperation. If only she felt it safe to give him some drug to let him sleep. But at the risk of a chemical reaction? No. She simply could not do that to his already tortured body. It fed the rising helplessness. At each restrained moan, her heart broke. Her soul ached as yet another barrage of images twisted Vincent's body. It wasn't supposed to be this way. But even she knew it was a possibility, one that would make the end result all the more miraculous and appreciated.
"Talk."
Natalie's fearful gaze focused on Vincent's contorted face. "What?"
"Speak, Natalie. Reality fades and I do not want to be lost in the chaos." His hand clasped hers for a long moment as he choked back a groan. "Tell me a story."
She gulped the burning, fighting against the sobs and agony that threatened her sanity. Be calm, she ordered herself. "Of course. I will see if I can remember something I haven't told you already."
"Tell me how--" Vincent's voice broke with a roar of pain as his face fully took on the shape of Death Gigas. Blood trickled from the corners of his eyes, and he growled deep within his chest, his hand shifting to a large fist of gray.
Natalie tightened her grip upon the massive fingers and brought it to her lips. "I will tell you how I found your Turk picture." She took in a deep breath, willing herself to be his strength even as she grappled with the rising panic. It simply refused to be pushed completely away. She choked back a sob as Vincent's form shifted from gray monster to blue-furred beast. She stroked the paw, her only treatment to soothe his pain. Don't die. Please!
"Believe it or not," Natalie began softly, "while I still attended high school we were allowed on a field trip to this very mansion. I believe Shinra used it as a recruitment tactic, since only the Honor Students were invited to the trip. How better to show the glamorous side to the corporation in hopes the honor students would sign up straight out of school?"
The blue beast phased out again, leaving Vincent's sweat-glistening face, blood still tricking from his eyes. Natalie's hand tightened on his. "Hold on, Vincent. I am right here." She pressed his hand to her lips and caressed the sweat and blood from his cheek. Vincent imperceptibly nodded.
Her heart thudded, panic shaking her composure. She wrestled it under control, but just. "I had no idea about the basement laboratory's existence, and so I couldn't see a point to the trip. After all, we were science students. What did we care for the perks of being involved in the Shinra Hierarchy?" Natalie caressed the back of his hand with her thumb, willing him all the strength he needed. "Then Professor Hojo and Lucrecia met us. Most of us knew who they were before they even introduced themselves. I knew Hojo because of his involvement in Professor Gast's research of the Cetra--I wasn't interested in the genetic sciences at the time--and my teacher's stories of him, you, and Lucrecia."
Vincent loosened his death grip on her hand and the side of the bed. His breathing regulated.
She kissed his hand and leaned closer. "Rest, Vincent. Just rest. I will finish the story." Vincent inclined his head, and the action seemed to require every ounce of strength remaining. Vincent . . . . "So, once they introduced themselves and their accomplishments--which took quite a while--they led us around the mansion on a general tour. Being sixteen, it didn't take long for boredom to set in. I drifted from the group to do my own examination and perusal. Sixteen-year-olds have a tendency toward excessive curiosity."
Vincent's lips twitched with a smile.
"I found a room with a piano, a lovely arboretum, and lingered in the sun while surrendering to a few fantastical daydreams of midnight meetings and risky rendezvous. With you, of course." She caressed his cheek with the back of her fingers. A more natural color had returned to his cheeks.
"Then, much to my delight," Natalie continued quietly, "I found a small library with a little writing desk. It almost looked as if it were used as an office. When I sat at the desk the first thing I did was search the drawers and cubbies to see what type of person used it. Imagine my reaction when I found your picture tucked between two literature books. I . . . I was amazed. You were so handsome. So . . . real.
"I suppose I shouldn't have, but I kept it. I love that picture. In fact, I have always kept it close at hand--either as a bookmark or tucked away in a favorite bedside research book. On those cold nights when loneliness hit me hardest, I would dig out that picture and play out an entire rendezvous with you. Everything was always so crystal clear. Your reaction to each statement so true to form; the expression in your eyes when I told one of my infamous bad jokes, your smirk when I did something embarrassingly funny . . ."
Vincent opened his eyes. "Sixteen and in love with a mystery," he rasped, smiling.
"Shh. Don't talk. I will get you some water. I will only be a few steps away." And she didn't know if the assurance was meant for him or her. Especially with how difficult it was to release his hands.
Natalie hurried to the desk to retrieve the insulated jug of water kept in a small fridge. Once she returned, she helped him lift his head, guiding the straw into his mouth and holding it steady as he took long droughts of the chilled liquid. When he had enough, she helped him lay back.
"Are you feeling any better?"
He inclined his head.
"Is there any pain?" She turned his arm, gauging the area with the guides and tube insertions. The skin just behind the guides was red and inflamed. Natalie pinched her lower lip. "I need to get some gel. It will only take a moment."
Natalie scurried to the table on the far wall near the X-ray machine, grabbing up the tube of local anesthetic found while organizing the lab. He took a firm hold of her arm the moment she returned to his side. "The phasing is coming?" He nodded. She fumbled with the cap and slathered the gel
where the metal guides disappeared inside, and then tossed the tube aside. "Vincent, I think I need to use the claw's mechanism. Do you remember what I told you before?" He imperceptibly lifted his chin, eyes closed tight, breathing rapid and shallow. "I need to remove the tubes. Hold on while I look for the catch."
Vincent's grip tightened on her arm as she leaned in, eyes narrowed as she scrutinized each curve and angle of the metal guides. She probed them gently, feeling out each crevice, knob, and button in an attempt to find the release for the tubes. Every once and a while she saw a flicker of desperation on Vincent's face--the chaotic phasing edged ever closer. His eyes snapped open, meeting hers. Her stomach lurched.
"I know, Vincent. Hold on--Damn it!" Natalie turned for a bookcase, halted by Vincent's frantic clasp on her arm. His panic must have been mirror in her own eyes. "I know, but I need to see if I can find the diagram in one of Hojo's reports." She covered his hand with hers to give it a squeeze. "I will be right over there, watching."
Vincent lifted his chin and released his grip, watching her every move. Natalie pawed through drawers and file cabinets, rifling through manila folders and thumbing through dog-eared books, desperate in her search for the schematics--or even notes of the design--that could help him. Every twitch from Vincent's direction captured her attention, and then she was back into the files with renewed fervor.
"Argh!" Vincent's exclamation of agony brought her head up.
Natalie dropped the book and sprinted to his side, grasping his hand so tightly that his gaze met hers. "I'm here. Shh," she soothed. She stroked the sweat from his forehead and temples.
Vincent's grip tightened on hers, his eyes shut tight. Yet again, blood and sweat trickled from his skin. Natalie caressed the streaks away with the tips of her fingers, biting her lower lip to prevent the sobs.
"It isn't fair," she choked out. "I can't soothe any of your pain. I can't stop the phasing. I . . . I'm utterly powerless to help you through the toughest time in your life--" A sob broke. "Vincent, I am so scared. I want to give you something, but . . . oh god," she whispered. She pressed his hand against her lips. "I didn't know, Vincent. I am so sorry. I didn't know." She pressed his hand against her forehead and cheek. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry . . . ."