*
"One-two-three . . . I believe this will be enough, Yuffie."
"What of this one?"
Yuffie and Natalie blinked at each other before shifting their focus to the walkway between tall bookcases. Vincent approached, book open and expression guarded.
Natalie shot Yuffie a sidelong glance and cleared her throat. "What is it?" Thankfully, her voice exuded calm.
Yuffie set down her own handful of books and watched the pair, smirking.
"While more general in subject matter, it seems to cover the field quite extensively." He handed it forward, his gaze never wavering from her face.
Natalie cleared her throat again and accepted the book. Just stay calm, Nat. "Really? Hm. All right. We will take this one, too. Thank you."
"I'm gonna go find someone to help out with the parts and stuff," Yuffie said as she stepped past. "You guys do the boring brain work. I'm outta here."
Natalie's serious expression warmed to a smile. "All right, Yuffie. Good luck." She waved without turning. Silence settled like a blanket. Natalie cast Vincent a glance and focused once again on the books on the table. She placed his contribution on top.
"Forgive me."
"For--" Natalie blinked up at him in shock. "Forgive you? For what?"
"For earlier. For leaving so abruptly." Vincent's tone was almost too calm.
Natalie stared at him, slack-jawed. "Of course I forgive you. "
He shook his head. "It should never be 'of course'."
"Why not, Vincent? You didn't do anything but leave after I practically brow-beat you with personal questions. I don't blame you in the slightest. You have had a rough life, so you are--understandably--rough around the edges and deserve another chance. Heaven knows I have benefited from enough of those myself, so how can I not offer you the same? It is more than anyone else has offered."
The intensity of her statement reverberated in the room, glowing in Vincent's eyes as they watched her face.
Her gaze retreated, her fingers seeking out the pages of the top-most research book. "This is fun," she admitted, remembering Yuffie's advice. "Reminds me of school and research papers and science projects."
"Grade school? High school? Or college?"
Natalie looked up. Interest glittered in his expression. She smiled. "Yes."
Vincent motioned toward a collection of chairs farther within the library. "You were more at home when at school?"
Natalie cast another sidelong glance as she passed to a chair. "Unfortunately. My parents and I had opposing ideas of what was acceptable and what was not." She settled in an overstuffed chair setup by a massive wooden desk with clawed feet and tarnished brass handles. Vincent sat opposite her, his eyes never wavering their scrutiny of her face. "My research papers in high school uncovered several nasty facets to Shinra, but my parents still pushed me to enter into their hierarchy."
"You didn't want the same."
Natalie shook her head, flipping the pages and only vaguely taking note of the contents. "No. I wanted to go to college, earn my Masters in Archeology, and perhaps even a doctorate. Then I wanted to work at private digs, write articles, and research the Cetra. Like Professor Gast."
"Yet your parents didn't agree. They pushed for you to become involved with Shinra immediately following graduation from . . . high school?"
"Yes." She released a fast breath, dropping the book to her lap. "I simply could not do it. I despised Shinra and everything they stood for. Detested what they wanted for our future. Hojo worked for Shinra. I simply could not take that path. Not when I knew what he did. To you, to Lucrecia." She shook her head. "I couldn't."
"And so you became independent, supported by your tenacity and wit."
Natalie chuckled and lifted her gaze, surprised at the return of amusement to his eyes. The intensity softened when he was amused. "While I did not find it so poetic at the time, yes."
"And your Masters?"
"In science with a focus on Archeology. The Cetra, of course."
Vincent conceded the statement with a slight nod. "And what of your doctorate?"
Natalie laughed. "Side-tracked by delusions of grandeur" and romantic notions of saving a lost soul. Her smile wavered, but she held it in place. Vincent's lips twitched upward. She rested her elbow on the arm of the chair, her chin in her palm. "What about you?"
Vincent held her gaze. "You have read my file."
"I have, but I want to hear it from you."
His gaze shifted to the book in his hands. He ran his fingers along the binding and the cover as he turned it over and again. "It has been a long time since I held books in these hands. Thirty years? Forty? I don't remember."
Natalie watched him, her throat constricting as she did so. She straightened and looked down. "I am sorry. It was rude of me to pry. We don't need to talk about it."
Vincent gave a slight shake of his head as he raised his eyes. "Curiosity is natural for you."
She flushed, struggling with focusing on the words of the page. "Yes, but there's a time and place for everything. I usually forget that fact." She felt a bit of wetness run down her cheek and quickly wiped it away. "There is a lot to learn, engineering is intriguing, so I had better start studying," she whispered.
Natalie could feel him watching her as she searched the table of contents for the appropriate sections of the book. In fact, she could almost hear the question he wanted to ask. Or maybe she heard the statement he wanted to say. Or maybe she heard the question he wanted her to ask. Maybe all.
The first section of the book was eventually found and turned to, but the words refused to make sense as she read and reread paragraph number one. Natalie sighed, rubbing her forehead with a finger as she tried yet again to understand the general workings of engineering. It should have been simple compared to what she discovered of genetic engineering and DNA manipulation.
Natalie sighed and started again.
"I studied literature at University," Vincent said.
She blinked, and the words on the page vanished from her attention.
"I believed I wanted to teach once I earned my degree. What else was there to do? In school I was like you, independent with a leaning towards being a recluse. Although I did join the archery and sharp-shooting teams there. I wonder now if that was due to the need I had to be a part of something. A team. A . . . family."
Natalie swallowed hard and looked up to meet his intense amber gaze.
"That, of course, drew the attention of the Turks. I was 23 when I joined." Vincent dropped his gaze to the book in his hands. "My mother died when I was quite young; my father also. I believe I was 17. Living without their support made me . . . cold. I found it easier to live behind a wall of nothingness than face emotions which caused pain and misery. Yet another asset the Turks reaped for their benefit."
He released the book to his lap and, instead, stared down at his hand and claw with an expression tainted with memories and disgust. Natalie's throat tightened as she watched him.
"I suppose my current form is a culmination of the horrors I enacted all too eagerly. I did monstrous things. Hojo then made me a monster. How apropos."
Natalie shook her head, suddenly leaning forward in her chair to take his hands in hers and meet his gaze . . . it was cold and distant. "Vincent. Your life has been harder than some, I admit, but you aren't a monster." Her voice rang calmly enough, but panic held her in thrall. "That is why I looked for you, because I didn't--couldn't--believe the life you had before or after was what you wanted. What choice did you truly have? You did what you could to survive. To be part of something." Her hands tightened on his. "I want to help you find that something, but I need your help."
Vincent stared down at her, the memories and accusations crashing across his face . . . . Then the glaze and distance slowly began to fade. He inclined his head.
"Thank you." Natalie forced a smile, giving his hands a firm pressure before persuading herself to release them. "Now, let's start studying
. I need power before I can cure you, and I am determined to have that before the week is out."
Vincent raised an eyebrow. "You shouldn't raise your hopes."
"Why not?" she asked. "If I don't give myself a goal or five, how do I improve?"
"But Cid has attempted the same without success."
"And what does that have to do with me?" Natalie focused on the book in her lap, flipping through the pages to yet again find the appropriate chapter. "I am quite certain I am not Cid Highwind."
"No, you aren't. Cid is an engineer with years of experience."
"Experience," she scoffed. "What's experience next to the desire to actually do what I've set out to do?"
"Pro--"
"Don't argue," Natalie scolded, punctuated by a sharp glance his direction.
Vincent blinked, expression mildly surprised. That quickly faded to a smirk. "Yes, Professor."
Natalie chuckled. "I am sorry, but I warned you about my lack of tact." Vincent lowered his gaze to the book in his hand and opened it to begin reading. She watched him, her lips caressed with a smile.
VIII
ELSEWHERE . . .
"You want what?"
"I want you and Shera to come up with a power source for a computer in the basement laboratory of the Shinra Mansion," Tifa said again.
Cid released a long sentence solely comprised of expletives as he threw his cigarette to the ground. "And how the hell am I supposed to do that when I still haven't come up with a god-damned power source for the farming equipment Barret wants so fucking bad?"
"I don't care how you do it, Cid. It's for Vincent, okay?"
"Vincent? That spook? What the hell does he need it for?"
"There's a professor who might be able to cure him." Cid stared at her in shock. Then he lit another cigarette. "I'm serious. She has an idea and wants to give it a try."
"She? Damned if a woman would be able to cure anything," he scoffed after a deep drag.
Tifa frowned as she crossed her arms. "Cid, you and Shera are the only hope--"
"Well, then I guess you won't get your god-damned power source."
"Fine. I'll ask the professor. She seems to have more brains than you right now."
Cid snorted and strode away. Shera stepped up a few minutes later. "I'll come, Tifa, if you think that would help."
"I'm sure Natalie will appreciate all the help she can get."
Shera looked after Cid with a slight smile. "He's frustrated. It hasn't been going so well."
Tifa threw up her hands in exasperation. "Fine. That doesn't mean he has to be a jerk, does it?"
Shera smirked. "It's Cid, Tifa."
"I know. I know."
Shera gnawed her lower lip. "Tifa, is it true this professor has a cure for Vincent?"
"That's what she was trying to do on the computer at the Shinra Mansion in Nibelheim. Only problem is, our dear Cloud wrecked the computer before she could do anything other than get her hopes up. It was hooked up to a Mako generator, you see."
"Oh." Shera wrinkled her nose in concentration. "A Mako generator, hm? How small was it?"
"I'm not sure exactly. All I know is that it wasn't very big. If Shinra can do it, why can't we? I figured that with the three of you working together you'd be able to come up with a safe alternative to Mako. Don't you think?"
Shera nodded absently. "I better go get packed."
She turned and walked away. Tifa stared after her with a smile and a shake of her head.