Chapter 9 - Memory Lane Is A Cruel Place

Vincent followed his stuffed guide through the streets of the amusement park to an area marked Theatre District, but when he had located his friend, he quickly found out that his meeting was not going to be short and sweet.

“Sorry, but I can't get away right now,” the cat shrugged, “As you can see, this crowd won't be going anywhere anytime soon.”

“So you called me down here for nothing?”

“Not nothing,” the cat said, rather annoyed at Vincent's rudeness, “I want to talk, I just didn't expect this group! Ow, stop pulling my tail!” he yelled to one particularly rude girl. “Just go have fun,” he yelled through the crowd, “I'll give you a call on this PHS when I get the chance,” and he tossed the small communicator to Vincent.

Vincent had half a mind to chuck it back at the cat, but held his anger and stalked off. He walked through the Theatre District for awhile, looking for something to do, but was unsuccessful. He was about to give up and head back to Cait Sith when he heard the sound of singing coming from an open door. The door led into a club called “The Golden Star,” and had a sign below it offering a prize to the best singer in a singing contest. Vincent smiled slightly and thought out loud, “This should be good for a laugh.”

The club was dim, with dark blues and greens decorating the walls. Small lights hung from the ceiling above the tables and sofas and the a small stage stood at the far end of the club. A singer was stepping off the stage as Vincent walked in, so the stage was currently empty.

Vincent approached the bar in the corner and ordered a Bloody Shiva, a personal favorite, then took his drink and sat down at one of the tables. As he lifted the glass to his lips, the curtains at the front of the room opened to reveal a beautiful young woman, who looked like she was in her twenties, probably around Vincent's age. The woman had a smooth, pale face, outlined by blonde hair. Her lavender, almond-shaped eyes were lined with a purple liner that matched her lipstick. Her nails were also painted a deep violet, and she wore a beautiful, black dress, and around her neck was a black ribbon that was tied into a bow. The bottom of her dress reached down to just above her ankles, where it was line with a black lace.

She stepped slowly to the microphone, her eyes glancing around, slightly nervous. Clearing her throat quietly, she nodded to the small band over to her left. As they struck up the tune, a haunting and melodic song, Vincent slowly realized that he knew the music. The notes drifted on the edge of his memory, as if it was a dream that had long since passed.

“The valley of green was so serene,

In the middle, ran a stream so blue….

A maiden fair, in despair, once had met her true love there and she told him…

She would say…

`Promise me, when you see, a white rose you'll think of me.

I love you so,

Never let go,

I will be your ghost of a rose….'”

Yes, Vincent could remember it all now. It had been one of their last times together. They had gone to a club in Midgar, not unlike this one, and had danced to this song. Lucrecia had declared it their song as she leaned her head against his chest.

“Her eyes believed in mysteries

She would lay amongst the leaves of amber

Her spirit wild, heart of a child, yet gentle still, and quiet and mild and he loved her…

When she would say…

`Promise me, when you see, a white rose you'll think of me,

I love you so,

Never let go,

I will be your ghost of a rose…'”

Vincent promised her that night that he would do as the song said, and that her face would always fill his thoughts whenever he would see a white rose. That was the same night he had first told her he loved her, the night they shared their first real kiss.

“When all was done, she turned to run

Dancing to the setting sun as he watched her

And ever more he thought he saw

A glimpse of her upon the moors forever

He'd hear her say…

`Promise me, when you see, a white rose you'll think of me

I love you so,

Never let go,

I will be your ghost of a rose…'”

On the final words of the song, Vincent felt a tear trickle down his cheek. Those last words brought back his final memories of his time with Lucrecia.




“Lucrecia,” Vincent said quietly as he approached the young woman. She was writing in her journal in the executive gardens in the Shinra building, but when she saw him coming, she quickly shut it. Vincent noticed the action, but dismissed it, thinking it was because she didn't want him to see it. That was alright, though. He had a surprise for her, something that would make them both very happy.

“Yes, Vincent,” she said quietly, looking up at him. Her face showed lines of worry, and Vincent was sad to see them, but continued on with what he had to say.

“I have something for you,” he said shyly. From behind his back, he produced a bouquet of white roses. It had taken a great deal of money to buy them, a quarter of his last pay check actually, but he didn't care. For Lucrecia, it was worth it.

“Oh, Vincent,” she cried happily, “They're lovely!”

“I hoped you would like them.”

“Like them? I love them! Oh, Vincent, you're so sweet!”

“Well, it is our one year anniversary, and I felt that my promise from last night should be honored,” Vincent explained, reminding her of their song last night. Lucrecia looked down at the flowers, and Vincent saw some tears trickle down her cheeks. She looked up and smiled, then burst into tears.

Vincent didn't understand, but went to her side and place his arm around her. She leaned against him, and Vincent felt her tears on his shoulder, and his heart hurt. It always pained him to see her cry, and she had been doing it a lot recently. But he was always there for her to lean on, a secure shoulder to cry on.

When the tears had finally quieted, he placed his finger under her chin and lifted her face. Their eyes met, and Vincent felt now would be the time to ask. Now would be the time to take control of his life, for the first time in a long time.

“Lucrecia,” he said slowly, kneeling down in front of her, “I want to ask you something.” He reached into the pocket of his blue uniform and pulled out a small, black velvet box. He opened it to reveal a beautiful silver ring. It was set with a sapphire, Lucrecia's birthstone, and ringed with tiny diamonds.

Lucrecia looked into his eyes, a smile on her lips but tears in her green eyes.“Vincent,” she said slowly, “I love you with every ounce of my heart and soul.”

Vincent prepared himself for the one word that would lead to a life of loving bliss.

“But..” she said quietly, “But I cannot accept.”

Vincent's heart stopped and his breath wouldn't come to him. He felt his stomach heave slightly, and a paralyzing chill ran through him. In one second, his entire world came crashing down.

“I'm sorry,” she said, more tears welling up in her eyes, “But Hojo and I are already engaged. He proposed this morning.”

Hojo. That filthy man. That monster that had haunted his and Lucrecia's steps for the whole year he had known his love. He had taken something from him that could never be replaced.

“We are to be wed in two days,” the sad woman continued. “If I could, my love, I would call it off, but I cannot. The entire situation is too complicated for that.”

Vincent just stared at her, his red eyes unblinking in stunned silence. She rose to her feet, taking his hands in her own. They both stood together, their heads bowed in sadness. Then Lucrecia reached into her own pocket and pulled out a small, silver locket on a silver chain. On the front was a single rose, and when she opened it, there was a portrait of herself inside.

“I thought that perhaps you would want this,” she explained slowly, “I have the one you gave me.” She stopped and wiped away a tear, “If we have these, we can be connected forever.”

Vincent accepted the small gift, and placed it around his neck. Suddenly, they heard footsteps coming up the path behind them. They turned around to see Hojo coming towards them, his face burning a bright red underneath his thin glasses.

“Lucrecia, come away from him, we need to get back to the subjects!” he ordered loudly, and walked up to her. He roughly grabbed her arm and started to pull her away. Vincent followed behind them, and would have liked nothing more then to put a bullet into the back of Hojo's head, but kept his hand steady for Lucrecia's sake. When they reached the elevator, Hojo shoved Lucrecia inside and pressed the button to take her to the lab. Before the doors closed, he stepped between them and waited for them to close. Hojo turned his grey eyes on Vincent, glaring as hard as he could. Slowly, a nasty smirk spread across his thin lips and he leaned in close to Vincent.

“I win,” was all he said, the stepped into the second elevator and shut the door. Vincent returned to his room that night and, doing something he hadn't done in years, he cried himself to sleep, his spirit completely overwhelmed with the pain he was experiencing.

Two days later, Vincent received word that Lucrecia had died, but that he was not allowed anywhere near the funeral. Despite this order, Vincent, grief completely consuming his judgement, slipped into the cemetery located in the far corner of Midgar. He watched the procession and where they laid his love to rest, and after the rest had left, he went to her to pay his own last respects. Laying on her grave a single, white rose, he knelt down and cried over it. As he did, he spoke the chorus from the song that they had made their own.

“Promise me..when you see” he whispered, his voice trembling from sorrow, “A white rose, you'll think of me. I love you so…” he forced the words out, his entire body trembling, “Never let go. I will be….your ghost of a rose.” The last words came out as a strained whisper, half sung half cried. He was so caught in his sorrow that he didn't hear footsteps behind him or even realise that someone was standing above him until he felt a sharp pain on the back of his head and rolled over. As darkness covered his eyes, he was able to make out the sneering face of Hojo, the man who had and would take everything away from him.




Vincent rose from the table he was sitting at and walked quickly out the door. The sun was setting over Gold Saucer, and the cool desert air was settling in. He sat down on a bench, frustrated with himself. His emotions were running high, the guilt stinging him. Why couldn't he protect her? Why was he the one who had to bear this shame? Why couldn't he have a normal life like everyone else? “Why do I have to be denied happiness?” he asked quietly, gazing into the setting sun gleaming from in between the golden buildings.

A door clicked open in the alley behind him and he turned to see the woman from the stage step out. She closed the door behind her and started walking forward when she noticed Vincent standing just across from her.

“Oh,” she said, surprised, “Good evening.”

“Good evening,” Vincent nodded in reply. She smiled and came forward.

“Excuse me,” she said politely, “But perhaps you were in there.” She motioned to the club then turned back to him, “Did you hear me sing?”

Vincent nodded, somewhat startled by her forwardness, but said nothing else.

“Did I sound nice?”

To this, Vincent didn't respond right away. He couldn't. How could he say that it sounded nice when it was so much more then that; when it symbolized the greatest thing he had ever experienced, true love.

“It sounded nice,” Vincent answered simply, unemotionally, “I enjoyed it.”

“Thank you,” the woman sighed, “I feared that it didn't.”

“No need to worry about that.”

“Well, it was the first time I had ever performed in front of people, so I wasn't sure if my being nervous had affected my voice.”

“You couldn't tell.”

“Oh,” the woman said softly. She looked at the cold man, realizing that he probably didn't want to talk, and started to walk away.

“You really do sing well,” she heard him say quietly, and she smiled as she turned around again. As she walked back towards him, she looked him up and down. He was a very handsome man, with a smooth, pale face and beautiful hair. His form seemed frail, but his red eyes and the way he carried himself suggested a strength within, stronger then any she had seen. He actually reminded her of her old boyfriend, and that maybe why he seemed so familiar. Regardless, he didn't seem to her to be like the kind that would compliment often, so she appreciated the words of encouragement.

“So, what are doing here in Gold Saucer?” she asked as she sat down on the bench next to him. When she did, he stood up and leaned against a light pole. No problem, she thought to herself, I'll get him to like me.

“I'm here to see a friend,” Vincent answered.

“Really?” she asked, hoping that didn't mean what she thought, “A female friend?”

“No,” Vincent replied, and she sighed contently. Good, she thought to herself, he's still available. “I'm here for business reasons.” Oh no, she thought again, he's a businessman, how boring.

“Well,” the woman said, rising to her feet, and extended her hand, “I don't believe we've even been properly introduced. I am Kathleen Beshel.”

“Vincent Valentine,” Vincent answered, taking her hand gently in his. It was warm and smooth, like Lucrecia's were, and Vincent felt happy for a moment. His mind felt the happy nostalgia that is associated with good memories, but then lost it when she removed her hand slowly from his.

“Would you like a drink?” she asked politely.

“I've already had one, thank you,” Vincent replied, but when he saw her eyes drop, he decided that it wouldn't hurt to get to know this woman. She seemed nice enough, and he would more or less never see her again.

“Actually,” he said slowly, “A drink sounds very nice right now.” Kathleen smiled and walked beside him back into the club. Perhaps there really is someone out there for me, she thought to herself. So far, things were off to a slow but nice start. This Vincent was nice, though a bit cold, but then again, she herself didn't give a very approachable appearance most of the time. Once I get to know him, she thought to herself as the two sat down a at table, he'll be much better. She could only hope that was true.




“Ooh, this one looks cool!” Yuffie exclaimed as she picked up a huge halberd. The thing was as tall as she was, with a sharp, swirling head and decorative ribbons on the head and below the blade. She could barely hold it up, and Eric rolled his eyes.

“Yuffie,” he started to say, but she cut him off.

“I know, let's look at throwing weapons,” and she ran to the weapons rental counter. As she spoke with the man, Eric just sighed and looked around. The two had discovered this store when they went around the arena. The whole way there, Eric had tried to convince Yuffie to stop with her crazy idea, but, as he had guessed, she just ignored him anyway. They had been in the store for an hour, and so far Yuffie had made him try out over ten different swords, three spears, four staffs and a mace, and absolutely none of them worked well for him, not to mention his arms were so sore and tired from slicing and parrying, he felt like they could fall off. He could only hope that they were out of weapons.

Suddenly, something caught his eye. A large red curtain hung in front of a doorway. The curtain was made of a thick velvet, on the curtain was embroidered all kinds of different symbols and images of battles. Brave knights and fearsome monsters shimmered in the light, and Eric thought that he could almost hear the sounds of battle. Eric knew that he really shouldn't, but his curiosity was too great, so he slipped behind the curtain, and into a dark room inside.

The room was lit only by candles, and they were spread out through the area, casting an eerie light on everything inside. All around the room were weapons, and very old ones at that. Throwing daggers, wands, javelins, slings, there was a large assortment, but still nothing that was particularly pleasing to Eric. He was about to leave when he saw something hanging on the wall.

At first, he wasn't sure it was even a weapon, considering its shape, but when he got a closer look, the blades stood out clearly. On the wall, above a lone candle were two rings. They were large, about the size of Eric's head, but were flat, with blades on the inside and out. He ran his fingers around the edge of one, making sure not to cut himself. The blades were still very sharp, and Eric wondered how a person could possibly use a weapon like that. He gently took them off the hooks on the wall, then saw a thin strand coming off of both the rings. He followed them to a small box in front of the candle, and when he opened it, the answer to his question was revealed. Inside the box was a pair of black gloves with the strands connected to the palm of the gloves. He slipped the gloves on, though they were way too big. There were straps on the end for him to tighten so the gloves would stay on, and after making them fit snuggly, he grabbed the weapons in both hands. The blades wouldn't cut through the gloves. No matter how tightly he grasped the rings, the blades wouldn't cut through the cloth of the gloves. Eric even felt brave enough to try and slice the glove while it was on his hand. No matter how hard he tried, the blade would not slice the flimsy fabric.

“Eric! Eric!” Yuffie's voice startled him.

“I'm in here,” he called back, then turned back to the blades. Yuffie pushed aside the curtain and stepped inside.

“What are ya doin' here in the dark? You're not becoming like Vincent, are you?”

“No,” Eric answered distantly, his eyes not leaving the rings, although someone saying he was like Vincent would have been a compliment anyway, “I was just looking at these.” He showed Yuffie the rings and gloves.

“What's with the gloves?”

“I think they protect your hands from being cut,” Eric explained, still not quite sure.

“Nah, the blades are just dull,” Yuffie corrected, then took one of them. When she did, she yelped in pain and dropped the ring. It fell to the floor with a loud clatter, and when Eric picked it up, there was blood on the edge of it. On Yuffie's palm was a line of blood from where the blade had cut her.

“Yuffie,” Eric cried, “You're bleeding!”

“I know, and now we're probably going to have buy the stupid rings, `cause I got blood on `em.”

Suddenly, the curtain was thrown open and the store owner, a small and stocky man, stepped inside. He squinted as his eyes adjusted to the dim lights, then they widened when he saw the rings.

“What did you do to the chakrams?”

“The `what-ams?” Eric asked, as he examined Yuffie's wound.

“Chakrams, the rings you bloodied up, are very rare and powerful. At least they were. They don't work anymore.”

“What do you mean?” Eric asked, starting to become very interested.

“Well, way back when, some race, I think the Cetra or something like that, made them. The gloves are from woven mithril and the blades are mithril as well.”

“Well, if it is made of mithril, then how is it any less powerful?”

“Well, there's a story that that says that the chakrams would return to the owner if thrown. They said that a mithril strand connected the glove to the chakram, but it would only return to a member of the race that created it. The strand was only visible to one of the race as well.”

Eric's eyes widened when he remembered the strand he saw. What did this mean?

“So, how much for `em?” Yuffie asked.

“Well, normally, I wouldn't sell it because of how old it is, but for you two, I'll take six thousand gil.”

“What?” Yuffie shouted.

“Sorry, but that's the price,” the clerk said resignedly.

Eric grabbed Yuffie's arm and pulled her to the side.

“Yuffie,” the whispered, “There's something I need to tell you.”

“I know,” Yuffie whispered back, “That guy's a total rip-off artist.”

“That's not it,” Eric replied, frustrated, “I can see the strand.”

“The what?”

“That strand he was talking about,” Eric answered, his voice quivering with excitement and fear, “I can see it! It's tied around the rings right here,” he pointed out. He then picked up the rings by the strand and held them in the air, but to Yuffie, it appeared as if they were floating by themselves.

“Oh my gosh!” Yuffie said loudly, “How are you doing that?”

“I'm not doing anything,” Eric answered, “The strand is holding it.”

“That's amazing,” Yuffie answered, “But I don't know if I have enough cash.”

“I think I have some left from when Vincent gave me gil.”

“Well, I only have two thousand, and I'm giving that to you.”

“Thanks a lot,” Eric said sarcastically, then had an idea. It would mean a serious sacrifice, but it would be worth it to get these rings.

“Well, I don't have much gil,” he admibted, “Only two thousand, but could you possibly take materia?”

“I suppose,” the man rubbed his chin thoughtfully, “But only if it was worth the amount.”

“Well, how about-“

“How about this,” Yuffie said suddenly, thrusting a green materia into the man's hand, “An almost mastered Poison materia.”

Eric stood shocked, amazed by what Yuffie had just done. What surprised him even more was that when the man took it and the rest of the money, Yuffie didn't jump on top of him trying to change her mind and take it back. As the two left the store and headed towards a practice area, Eric turned to his friend.

“Yuffie, I don't know what to say.”

“Don't say anything,” she mumbled, her voice sounding sad and happy at the same time, “Otherwise, I might change my mind.”

“Well, thanks,” Eric replied.

“Oh, don't thank me,” she said misceviously, “You owe me a Poison materia, you know.”




Eric just smiled. It was good to have friends.

“No, No! You throw it like this! Not that way!” Yuffie said in frustration. She had been trying to get Eric to throw the chakram properly for half an hour, and had been unsuccessful in doing so.

“I'm sorry, Yuffie, but I did just start learning how to use these things today.”

“I know,” Yuffie said, her voice returning to normal, “Which is why you have to listen to me. Otherwise, you'll end up dying in the tournament, or worse.”

“I thought you said these tournaments were perfectly safe.”

“I may have stretched the truth a bit,” Yuffie said sheepishly, “Okay, I lied. You can get hurt and die, but only sometimes.”

“Thanks,” Eric said sarcastically, “And what could be worse then that?”

“Well, you could end up losing to a lttle girl.”

Eric sighed then looked back down at the weapons in his hands. They shimmered brightly, the blood having been cleaned off of them, and Eric was happy when he looked at them. The strand was still attatched, but Eric hadn't made use of it yet. He would surprise everyone when they came back to him, but until then, he had to go pick them up after they were thrown. At leas, that was what Yuffie had told him to do, and since he was tired of her getting angry at him, he didn't say anything. He went and picked up the blade, then turned to face his teacher. When he did, he saw three men approaching him and Yuffie from across the practice area. At the head of the group was a tall man, with straight black hair and brown eyes. Except for the eyes, Eric thought to himself, he looks kinda like Vincent. Behind him was a big man with a bald head and the other man was shorter with a head of short red hair.

“Hey, you,” Yuffie called to the men, “We reserved this room!”

“Sorry,” the man said, and Eric felt as if he had heard the voice before. The man looked at Eric with his cold eyes and said quietly, “Your time's up.”

Faster then either Eric or Yuffie could react, the black-haired man pulled out a gun and pointed it right at Eric. “Don't move,” the man growled, “Or I will pull this trigger.”

“What are you doing?” Eric asked frantically.

“We've come for you,” the man replied simply, “Did you honestly think you could run from Shinra forever?”

Shinra, the name of the one place on earth Eric wished he could forget. The one place that had brought so much trouble to him and his family. He had tried his best to run from that past, but it seemed that his past had finally caught up with him.

“Hey, boneheads!” Eric heard someone shout. All heads turned to Yuffie just as she through her shurikan. It flew straight towards the man with the gun, but he managed to jump back a fired at a shot at her. She dove to the left, but was met by the red-haired man.

“Yuffie, how nice to see you again,” he said calmly, almost flirtatiously.

“Ew, is that you, Reno?”

“The one and only, and what do you mean by ew?”

Eric didn't have time to listen to the rest. Without even thinking about it, he flung the chakrams towards the leader. The blade spun towards him, and managed to cut slightly into his side as he rolled away. The man placed a black gloved-hand on the wound, then pulled out the gun again, though now, hhe pointed it at Yuffie. He smirked once at Eric, then aimed at the girl, who was dodging blows from Reno. He swung a long, metal rod at her, and she was barely able to dodge in time. Eric saw that she couldn't escape the man and the shot, and ran towards her. As he dove infront of her, he heard a shot, then felt his body being struck with something.

Instead of the pain he had expected, he felt a numbing sensation running through him. He fell to the ground and saw the world grow dark around him. He couldn't move any part of his body, and laid there helplessly until his eyes closed and sank him into a blank, paralyzed abyss.

Yuffie watched Eric take the hit, and ran to him, but was stopped by Rude, the huge bald man. He grabbed her by the hair and then tossed her into the wall of the area. Stars danced before her as she rose unsteadily to her feet.

“We had better get back quickly,” she heard Tseng say before the three walked out of the arena. Rude had the unconscious Eric slung over his shoulder, and Reno smiled at her triumphantly before folling Tseng and Rude out of the room. She stumbled towards them, but her steps were slow, for she still felt dizzy from hitting the wall. She finally regained her senses enough to run after them, but they had disappeared.

“Come back here, you jerks!” she screamed. “I'll kill you if you hurt him!” The only answer she received was the sound of helicopter propellers. She ran out of the Battle Arena to see a helipad outside, meant for flying in the rich who had come to see the tournaments and competitors. The helicopter rose into the air, too high for Yuffie to jump, and took off north, back to Midgar.

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