Nightmares
by Jess Angel

Real. Unreal. Natural. Unnatural.

…Sometimes even supernatural.

They are all these things and more. They prey on fear and live off pain. They can be the harshest realities, or the most frightening of fictions. They taunt closing eyes and murder haunted minds.

To those they enslave, they seem never-ending and…

Inescapable.

I'm back here again. It's exactly as I remember it - bright, like its filled with the most luminous of lights. It's a place where serenity reigns. But this day, it's not. It's supposed to be beautiful too, but the façade is almost tangible. It's a shell of perfection, hollow and cold.

It gives me a sense of foreshadowing that something terrible is coming, and it's just lurking around in some unseen distance, mocking our ignorance.

I see those stone pillar steps, the ones that Cloud travels forward to. They are the same ones that he denies me passage to when I try to follow. He goes up them alone like some warped walk down the aisle. By the time he's reached that sacrificial alter, it's too late, I realize. I see it in my mind.

…It's a memory. This was reality. It's already done.

He can't save her. I can't save her.

No one can.

Still, I try, hoping that maybe there's a chance - some way.

Still, it's always the same.

I punch. I kick. I scream. I cry. I even shield her body with my own. I try and try. But it stays the same.

A glint of silver and like an avenging angel, he plummets down to Earth.

He's a devil in disguise, and this is his fall from grace.

He descends upon the true angelic, and she is no more.

My friend is gone.

That is my reality.

I choke for air, the tears burning the back of my eyelids. I can feel the stream of salt water on my shaking hands. Fingers try to push them away from my flushed cheeks; my palm rises to wipe the sweat off my forehead, smoothing away damp hair.

This is the seventh night straight.

I don't want to do this anymore. I don't want to close my eyes. My head swims with those unbearable visions - those unchangeable memories sealed by a Masamune.

It's dark, but the moonlight through the windows allows me some visibility. I can make out the form of Yuffie sprawled on top of the only other bed in the room. The very sight lightens my disturbed and disconcerted senses.

At least someone can rest easy.

I take a moment to calm my frazzled nerves. The moisture on my skin now dry, I start to move. My feet meet the cool wooden floorboards, and I shake at the contact. Then, I progress to the more effort challenging. It's difficult to stand. The first attempts fail. My head rushes with a dizziness I can't fight. The third time, I stand tall.

The knob of the door turns soundlessly, and I make my quiet escape.

I'm not sure of where exactly I'm headed, but it seems the staircase is the only option. I hold tight to the railing, my head feeling like lead. The steps I take down land labored and unstable. I can feel the temperature drop after each step I take and feel grateful I didn't sleep in my fighting clothes. The oversized button up shirt that the innkeeper's daughter lent me is warmer and longer than my black skirt. She was even kind enough to let me borrow a pair of shorts.

The ends of the shirt brush against the skin of my knees as I move further down the narrow stairs. Finally, at the bottom, I can see the faint glow of a few candles in the sitting room to my left. It looks tragically romantic, like a scene where lovers are found lifeless, locked in a final embrace.

The nightmares must be influencing the rise of morbid thoughts in me, I think. Oddly enough, I still find the open room inviting. I begin to make my way closer to the sofa there, but halfway, I freeze.

I'm not alone.

My heart starts hammering against my chest. Adrenaline leaks into my system. I'm ready for anything.

But then there's a flash of gold, and I feel the tension in my body dissipate. Blood red eyes peer at me through the shadow playing across his face.

It's only Vincent.

My hand pulls to my pounding heart. "Geez, you scared me." Quickly, I settle my body onto the couch diagonal from where he sits, trying to get comfortable as well as regain my composure.

He doesn't reply. Instead, his gaze shifts as if dismissing my presence. But I'm content to stay huddled on the couch, staring away at nothing in particular much like he was doing, I suppose. Silence seems to be my only real company.

Fifteen minutes later, I look towards his direction. He hasn't moved at all. He's still fixed in that same position. While I… Whatever happened to fighters being graceful? I felt so self-conscious I couldn't keep still!

Vincent Valentine was slightly leaned back with his hands and arms resting comfortably on the armchairs, his right leg stretched out before him. Tifa Lockheart, on the other hand, had to rearrange and reposition herself every three minutes to stay relaxed.

I hated fidgeting in front of him. He made me feel clumsy and awkward. He was perfectly still and composed, while I wasn't. I tried to ignore my discomfort.

The silence that permeated the room wasn't unpleasant but welcoming enough. Still, I felt the urge to say something.

"Hey," comes my late greeting.

I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, not really looking at him. The moment lingers…. I feel somewhat embarrassed that he doesn't answer right away. I really shouldn't have expected a response from him anyway. Frankly, I'd be more surprised if he did answer.

I guess it just wouldn't be him.

"Shouldn't you be sleeping?"

My eyes widen. Okay, not exactly what I was going for but it was a whole sentence. Vincent rarely spoke but when he did, he had a way with words. He could be almost poetic.

I hesitated to tell him… about them. It was foolish. Of all people, he would understand.

Maybe I was reluctant because he was too burdened with his own.

"I… I can't."

Silence.

"I've been having nightmares." My voice sounds soft and far away even to my ears. I stare at the floor. At least I said it. I feel a weight lifted by the simple statement.

In the corner of my eye, I see him make the first move he's probably made in several hours. His head has turned to look at me. I gaze up to meet it.

And I feel stripped bare - my soul, an open book for him to read, my body just as naked.

His eyes avert.

A tingle runs down my spine. I feel hot and cold all at once. I don't know what else to do but keep my gaze on him, and I feel… like I'm searching. For what? I'm not sure.

Acceptance, comfort, understanding… Maybe all that and more.

The searching ceases, and I find myself observing the man before me instead.

The light of the candles illuminates his features, casting a glow on his dark form. His usually pale skin looks warm to the touch - like soft porcelain, maybe. My fingers twitch, and I can't help but wonder. Ebony silk tumbles over his shoulders and occasionally brushes caressingly over those red wine eyes.

I had to admit, Vincent looked nice by candlelight. I wondered what I looked like… Hideous, most likely. My skin probably looked sallow. My eyes would be slightly red from the previous tears I had shed, and my thin body was in a rumpled shirt too big for me.

Again, he unconsciously made me feel inadequate.

Yet it didn't matter, because staring at this dark and beautiful man enthralled me. Vincent, golden claw and all, was the very thing that nightmares were made of. He was also the very being who lived through them - who lived despite them. I found what I had been searching for in those truths.

It was suddenly easier to speak.

"They're about Aeris… in the City of Ancients." I continued when I felt him look in my general direction, "They started a few days after it happened."

His mouth forms into something of a frown. "How long?" he asks.

"Today is the seventh night straight." I nibble at my lip. "You know how… it's the memory of when… that day Aeris… I realize what's going to happen an-" My voice gets caught in my throat. "No-nobody can save her." I blink back the tears. "No matter what I do, I can't save her. …I, I'm just tired now - tired of seeing it over and over, tired of feeling the inevitability. I hate knowing it." I give a heavy sigh.

"Vincent, does it ever get any better?" I need to hear it. I need to know.

Nothing.

I feel my lip tremble.

"I don't sleep… anymore." He turns away.

"Please, Vincent. Just tell me what you think… what you know… anything." I don't care if I sound desperate. "Please."

It looks like he's fighting an inner battle against his own demons.

Maybe he's struggling to tell me the truth.

"I believe… for you… they will fade back into the abyss from which they came. In time," he finished, and I absorbed his words.

A part of me was put to rest. I felt reassured. But the feeling was short lived; I replayed his words in my mind.

I felt selfish. I hadn't stopped to consider his own - pain. "And… for you?"

I hadn't been surprised to see him still awake. He had been trying to keep them at bay. Nightmares were his invisible prison. I held my breath. It was a very personal question. And one he wasn't likely to answer.

He was lost in his own little world again.

I couldn't tell if he was just thinking or ignoring me. I continued to watch him stare at nothing.

"For me, they are ever-present. Their power has diminished since I have awoken. But, still they… live." His eyes close briefly. "Only until my atonement is complete will I find rest."

I look at my hands folded in my lap. "I, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-" His metal hand raises, silencing me. I take in a deep breath.

"Close your eyes."

I stare at him confused. "But-"

He won't tolerate any further argument.

Slowly, I lay back down and my eyelids begin to drift. I suddenly feel how tired I am. It must be past one in the morning. They continue to drift down but I still hold his gaze. "Don't go," I mumble, but I know he hears me.

He doesn't move, but he doesn't speak either. Partially satisfied, my heavy lids close. I ignore the cold, but a shiver runs through me anyway.

My weary body and mind surrender to darkness.

"Mmm." I moan and yawn at the morning.

The rising sun's rays are warm and bright on my closed eyes. I feel safe and content, like I'm enfolded in someone's strong embrace. A man's embrace? A masculine scent teases my senses. I open my eyes.

Relief and disappointment course through me as I find myself tangled in a red cloak.

Vincent's.

It was silly to think that he'd actually hug me, let alone hold me all through the night. …Or was it?

My mind must be seriously sleep deprived. Blame it all on sleeplessness. It was probably a side effect. …It was a sweet gesture though. Coming from Vincent, it was even more so. It was unexpected and out of character.

It wasn't the character that I knew.

I gather the fabric in my hands. Vincent was probably already up, and the others would be down soon. I'm on my feet when I hear footsteps making their way towards me. I know it's him.

I turn, and he stops before me. Without a word, I tiptoe and swing the blanket of scarlet over his shoulders. When he starts to shift away, probably alarmed with the contact, I halt any more movement and continue fastening the cape. "There…" I smooth an imaginary wrinkle on his shoulder and step back feeling red. I was most likely looking it too.

It was a bold move, I knew, but it was my kind of 'thank you'. Strange though it was, it seemed fitting. …Or was it? Maybe, it was just an excuse to get close…

Blame it on lack of sleep. It had to be the sleeplessness.

"You should eat." I guess that was his way of telling me it was time for breakfast.

I nod absently.

He starts towards the meal room, and I follow walking slightly behind but beside him.

He doesn't look at me. "How did you sleep?"

"Lousy. Awful, really."

He stops mid-step and glances over at my grinning face. He continues onward.

"You?"

I could've sworn I saw a smirk.

"Same."

…Fin.

"I lie down and sleep; I wake again, because the Lord sustains me."
Psalm 3:5

Final Fantasy VII and its characters © Squaresoft, Inc. n.k.a. Square-Enix, Inc.