Chapter 12 - No Other Choice

As it settled its long, stalky legs in the shallow water, the heron's eyes followed its prey, the tiny, silver fish, around the small pond. It came to the swamp every morning for its morning catch, and today was no different. The fish suddenly stopped swimming, its tiny eyes open wide, its mouth opening and shutting quickly. The heron edged its beak closer and closer, inch by inch, almost tasting the fish.

A horrified scream ripped through the mists of early morning, startling the heron into flight. Its beating wings sent the fish wild in an attempt to escape its doom. The heron glanced around annoyed as it flew off, frustrated at its loss.

Eric screamed again as he tumbled over his own feet. He landed on his rear, staring with terrified eyes at his clawed hands and silver hair. He clutched at the shimmering strand of hair, and then ran his fingers over the huge wings on his back. His tongue slid across the pointed tips of his fangs before his mouth released another scream.

“What happened to me!?” he screamed.

“You underwent another transformation last night,” Vincent replied, seeming to appear out of nowhere. “I suggest that you try and remain calm.”

“Calm?! Calm?! How do you expect me to remain calm!? I look like a monster!” Eric shouted, jumping to his feet, or trying to, anyway. Because they had always been weightless before, having the extra weight of the wings on his back made it difficult to keep his balance. Falling on the ground once again, he slammed his fists on the ground in frustration. Vincent watched as Eric threw the biggest display of an enraged temper tantrum he had ever seen. Kicking into the air, screaming and flailing for several minutes. When he had finally tired himself out, he stopped, heaving and panting, tears welling up in his reddened eyes.

“Now,” Vincent said, unaffected by the show, “Are you finished?” Eric did not respond, not having anything to say. He was not finished, but he was too tired to say or do anything.

“Good, now listen carefully. You need to close your eyes and take a deep breath.” Eric did not move at first, but when Vincent repeated his order, Eric obliged, probably more out of his own need to be calm then because Vincent said it. “Now, this transformation took place while you slept last night,” Vincent explained quietly, “You looked as if you were having a nightmare. Did you have any dreams last night? Anything at all?”

Eric opened his eyes, their red irises matching Vincent's own color, and stared into Vincent's face. Of course, he dreamed. But was it a dream? This all seemed to be a bit real to have what happened last night classified as just a nightmare.

“I think so,” Eric mumbled, trying to recall all that had happened. It all seemed so distant, like a dream would, but he tried to dig up everything he could remember. “Well, first, there was this being,” he started. He sat there, and explained everything to Vincent, his meeting with Cire, being rescued by Ifrit, and his battle. Surprisingly, he managed to keep calm, despite his transformation, and his overwhelming fears. Vincent listened, his face not losing his stoic gaze. When Eric finished, Vincent closed his eyes in thought. Silently, he contemplated what he had been told, and Eric fidgeted slightly, looking at his hands, and feeling his wings again.

“They just can't be real,” he said quietly, “They just can't. I need to wake up.” Vincent rose to his feet slowly, and walked over to where Eric sat. Not saying a word, he reached down and quickly plucked a single feather off Eric's right wing. A small, sharp pain ran through him, and the young man clambered to his feet, his face red with anger.

“What'd you do that for!?” he demanded.

“Did I hurt you?” Vincent asked, spinning the feather between his thumb and forefinger.

“Uh, yeah!” Eric answered, trying to rub the spot where the feather had been removed.

“Then I think we've established that this is real,” Vincent replied calmly. Eric stood dumbfounded, but slowly, he felt the sickened feeling of despair creep over him.

“So, it's true…” he mumbled to himself, “I really am a monster!” He cried out, fear sinking into his heart, as he slowly yelled out all the things he felt. “What am I going to do!? I can't be seen like this! What will people say!? What will they think?! What will Yuffie say!? She'll make fun of me, be scared of me, or maybe even try to kill me! People will hate and fear me! No one will want to be around me!”

“Eric, calm yourself,” Vincent said quietly. Eric didn't hear him.

“I'm going to become a wild animal, and live alone in the woods or the mountains!”

“Eric…” Vincent tried again.

“And then I'll slowly sink into madness, and try to eat human flesh, and kill women and children, and-!”

Before Eric could finish, he heard a click. Opening his eyes, which he had shut in his weeping, he saw the barrel of Vincent's rifle in his face. Vincent was looking at him with an annoyed gaze, one that he had given Eric when he had assaulted the man with a dictionary in the Shinra Mansion.

“Now,” Vincent said slowly, “Remain quiet, and do not speak again until I instruct you to do so.” Eric nodded quickly. “I want you to look into my eyes,” he ordered, and Eric found it hard to do. He didn't want to look into them, partially from embarrassment, and partially, from the slight guilt that hung over him from what he tried to do last night. Just the thought of trying to kill Vincent summoned up the sound of Cire's laugh again; Eric left Cire's offer out of his tale.

“Look in my eyes, Eric!” Vincent said, louder, more forcefully, so forcefully that Eric jerked his eyes upward. His newly red irises met Vincent's, and he looked into them for a long time, what seemed like an eternity. At first, he just saw Vincent's serious, almost lordly gaze, like a wise king. After a moment, however, Eric saw below that a sad look, full of sorrow. This is how it happened, each passing moment stripping away each layer of emotion, each sin shown through the man's eyes, and Eric felt their heavy weight. Finally, though, the final emotion, one that seemed almost innocent and joyful, a strange contrast to the sad things that came before it. This slight happiness disappeared, and Eric saw something in his pupils, something moving. Suddenly, the demon he had seen last night seemed to leap straight at Eric, clawing and roaring, and Eric fell back once again. Vincent, his face seeming satisfied, lowered his rifle, and placed it back within it's holster.

“So, you saw him then?”

Eric didn't answer again.

“I see,” Vincent said quietly, “As you can see, you are not the only one with personal demons, at least one like yours.”

“Vincent,” Eric said, rising up and moving closer, his eyes starting to tear up again, “I'm so sorry about last night. I didn't mean to-“

“There is no need for apologies,” the gunman interrupted, turning away. Eric, usually not one to force himself on people, ran around in front of the man.

“No, I need to do this. I am sorry for almost killing you,” he said, and tears slowly crept down his face, “I'm sorry for getting so angry. I should have known better. I should have understood-“

“You acted as anyone else would have,” Vincent said.

“Darn it, Vincent,” Eric almost shouted, “stop interrupting me! There was no reason for me to do that. I don't know what happened. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.” By now, his voice was trembling, and his soul started to feel heavy. All the emotions that had built up within such a short period suddenly rushed forth. All the anger from last night, the fear from his fight with Cire, the horror of his transformation, and the pity and remorse he developed when he saw his friend's spirit. All of it came out, like a broken dam, and rushed out in the form of the tears falling from his eyes.

“I understand,” Vincent said, placing his hand on the young man's shoulder, “And I must say that I am sorry for what I have done to you, all the pain that I have caused you since you were young. I would give anything to bring back your parents, to bring back all the many lives I have destroyed, but that, along with the demon I hold within my heart, are my curses. To know that because of your own cowardice, you have stolen away the most precious thing a person can ever have is perhaps one of the greatest burdens one could be forced to bear.”

Eric looked at his friend, a smile on his lips. It was small, almost unnoticeable, but through the pain, Eric knew only one thing. It was the one thing he wanted to say, the one thing that he felt would help both of them feel the shame of the past be lifted.

“Vincent,” Eric started slowly, “I…..I….I forgive you.” He couldn't believe how easy it was to say them, and how much fear was lifted from him when he spoke those words. In fact, the only way he knew he could say these things truthfully was because of his parents. Something in his heart and been whispering these words of forgiveness ever since Cire was defeated last night, and when he listened closely, the voices were those of his parents. Eric knew that Vincent would never look the same to him, but also knew that forgiveness was probably the greatest gift he could give to Vincent. For all that he had done for him in the short time he had known the man.

Eric couldn't be sure, but he thought he saw that small layer of happiness appear in Vincent's eyes for a moment, before it disappeared again.

“Now,” the man said, turning away once again, his cape fluttering in the slight marsh breeze, “About your transformation….”

“What am I going to do? Maybe I should just stay here….become just another beast-“

“Stop acting like a child,” Vincent reprimanded, his eyes growing hard again. “Let me ask you something. Do you think me a monster?”

Eric shook his head, not too sure how to answer. “You have a monster in you, but you look normal.”

“Precisely,” Vincent said, “Now, if I am able to remain human, despite what lives within me, what makes you a monster, when it is only your appearance that would say so?”

“Nothing.”

“Then, instead of shedding tears for what cannot be changed, let us instead think of how we can use this to our advantage.”

“And how is that?”

“With enough work,” Vincent said, “I believe that we could get you in the air.”

“What!? You mean, like, flying!?”

“Don't make me repeat myself….”

“But…but, I hate heights. I passed out on the roller coaster at Gold Saucer, what makes you think I could get up that high again?”

“Necessity,” Vincent answered simply. “At this point, we don't have many options for getting out of here. While I have been in these swamps before, crossing them is no easy feat, especially on foot.”

“So what should I do?” Eric asked, starting to become intrigued. Maybe flying wouldn't be so bad, he thought to himself. It may even be fun.

“The marshes flow and move wherever the current takes the patches of mud, and saturated areas may have sinkholes. I think, though, that if you were in the air, pointing out the more solid patches, I could make my way across.”

Eric looked dumb-founded once again. “You trust me like that?”

“With my life,” Vincent answered. Eric smiled again.

“Now, it's time for, as Cid would say, a `crash course' in flying. I hope you will be able to keep the crash portion to a minimum.”

Eric chuckled. Vincent must be feeling better; he thought to himself, he made a joke.

For the next two hours of the morning, Vincent showed Eric the basics of flight. The training was slow, for Vincent had to teach from what he knew, versus actually showing Eric. As difficult as the learning was, it was nothing compared to when it was time for Eric to actually take flight.

“Perhaps we could do this some other way,” Eric asked, looking skyward nervously.

“You must,” Vincent said simply, “Now go. I do not wish to breath this air any longer, and I am quite certain you do not as well.”

Eric nodded, the scent of rotten earth becoming stronger at that moment. Vincent had said that his wings were just like his arms, and that using them was just like moving or breathing. His mind just needed to send a message to his wings, and they would begin to work. Eric imagined the wings spreading out, and felt the muscles and bones attaching them to his back move in response. Envisioning the flapping motions that Vincent had explained, the wings moved, and soon, a current started to lift him into the air. The current grew stronger as he flapped again, and then again, and soon, he had risen a whole six feet in the air. He continued to rise as Vincent watched, and if Eric had been close enough to his friend, he would have been able to see the look of pride in the dark man's eyes.

A smile on his face, Eric pushed himself a little higher, and felt the freedom that comes with being in the open air. He breathed in the clean air, dipped quickly in the lower clouds, letting their cold mists envelope him. It was the most amazing thing he had ever felt, more then being on the road, and more then casting a spell. In his rush, he pushed himself slightly higher then he was comfortable, and after making this startling discovery, he stopped when he realized just how high he was. Lowering himself closer to the ground, he called down to Vincent, trying his best to maintain the image of his wings moving.

“Vincent! I think I'm ready!”

Vincent nodded, and then called back. The words, however, were caught by the wind, so Eric was forced to call out again.

“What?!”

“I said….ahead!” Vincent called again, the winds still catching some of his words. Eric guessed that having him repeat himself was probably getting annoying for the man, so he pieced what he said together. Looking ahead, over the vast expanse of marsh, he saw just how much ground there was to cover. Miles of marsh stretched out into the distance, though a thin line of green and gray could be seen in the distance in every direction.

“Just ahead,” Eric shouted, “There's a big patch of land. There's lots of grasses and stuff, so I think it's solid.”

Vincent nodded, and headed straight forward in the direction Eric pointed, hopping across the small breaks of dirty water. Soon, he reached the land Eric had spoken of, and then looked back up at his guide. Eric's altitude had decreased, a result of his fears, but he still maintained flight.

“Most of it looks like water, except to the south. I see some more land, and what looks like a building or something.”

“A building?” Vincent asked himself quietly. Any form of civilization in these marshes was impossible, but perhaps someone had managed to carve out an existence.

Following Eric's flight, Vincent jumped across the swamp, stepping quietly as possible through the thick weeds. The last thing that was needed was a monster finding them. The brown mud stuck to his shoes, and his clothes became tangled once or twice in the thick brush and growth. Eric stopped whenever this happened, and though he offered to help, Vincent always got himself out.

Eric landed after the last tangle, and sighed heavily.

“I'm beat,” he huffed, “These wings are so heavy, and it's so hard to breath when flying.”

“The air is thinner the higher you go,” Vincent explained, “So it would be unwise to try and go too high. How much further is the spot you saw?”

“Just beyond this next water flow, if you can call it that.”

“Then let us continue….”

The pair made their way through the brush, but Eric slipped several times, his hold body feeling winded from his first flight.

“We can rest when we get to the next stop,” Vincent commented, helping the young man to his feet. He got up slowly, trying not to fall again, and the two proceeded through the grasses.

As they stepped into the clearing in the weeds, they found that the ground was much more solid. The tall plants seemed to be either spread out, or smashed down, like something had pressed them all flat.

“Something has done this,” Vincent muttered, “Something large…..”

“Like….what?”

“Just-“ Vincent started, but stopped when they both turned and saw what Eric had thought was a house. It was a house, but certainly not one used by any human.

The whole thing looked like a pile of rotten logs and weeds, but upon closer examination, the two found that the materials were woven into a swirling pattern, like a serpent curling up on itself.

“It's a nest…” Vincent said, a quiet, almost fearful tone on the edge of his voice. A low hiss came from the bottom of the nest, and Vincent and Eric jumped back at the sound.

As they did, a huge snake with a wide hood appeared from above the rim. It spread its hood, revealing eye-shaped designs underneath. It opened its huge mouth, revealing two sharp fangs, and many other small ones, though they appeared to be just as deadly.

“An anaconduar,” Eric whispered out of sheer terror.

The anaconduar stared down on his prey, then turned its gaze towards Eric. Although it had never seen a creature like it, the little thing must have been a bird, for it had two shiny wings on its back. Besides, it was too hungry to pick and choose.

The huge serpent turned to face Eric, and before Vincent could call out a word of warning, the huge monster started to sway its head rhythmically, side to side. Eric stopped, fascinated somehow by the movement, and soon lost himself in the eye patterns on the snake's hood. He heard and felt nothing, not the sound of Vincent calling out to him, and not the feeling of his own feet walking closer towards the nest.

“Eric!” Vincent called out. When the young man didn't respond, and Vincent saw the way he swayed side to side as he walked; he knew that his young friend was in trouble. Without a thought, he rushed forward, tackled the young man just as the huge snake's jaws snapped forward. Eric was flung out of the way, the trance broken, but the jaws of the snake clamped down on the end of Vincent's cape, and the huge serpent swung his victim back and forth.

Vincent felt his stomach start to heave from the movement, but brushed the feeling aside as best he could, and grabbed onto the cape. Using his clawed hand, he punctured a series of holes in the cape, and let force take care of the rest. As the anaconduar swung its head again, the cape ripped along the edge, and Vincent fell free. He soared through the air, landed with a jolt on the ground, rolled two feet, then stood up, slightly disoriented, but no more worse for the wear. Suddenly, the ground below him shifted and sank, and he quickly found himself up to his armpits in mud.

Eric rose up from ground, the trance still fogging his mind slightly. Shaking his head, the smog before his eyes cleared in time to see Vincent's trip. As the gunman sank into the slimy mire, Eric watched the snake hiss, almost in a smug way, then turn back to face his original victim. Its hood spread wide again, and it once again began its hypnotic dance.

“Fool me once,” Eric shouted to the monster, darting to the side, his eyes clamped shut. Turning away from the snake, Eric looked over to Vincent, who was trying his best to pull himself out of the muck. Eric realized, in that moment, he had a choice. He could leave, escape on his own, and leave Vincent there. He could be safe and sound, while the man got what he deserved. But, once again, Eric heard the laugh of Cire in his mind, and brushed aside the thought. He dove across the ground and slid on his belly towards the trapped Vincent. By this time, the anaconduar, seeing that its hypnosis had failed miserably, slid out of its nest, and towards the two. Its tongue wiggled as its sensitive taste buds tested the air, searching for its prey.

“Vincent,” Eric practically shouted, his fear for them both evident on his face, “What are we going to do?!” Vincent didn't answer. Instead, he mumbled something inaudible, and continued to simply looked forward, his eyes blank and empty, and his head moving slightly from side to side. From his expression, Eric could guess exactly what was going on. Resisting the urge to look up, he tried to awaken his friend with a few slaps to the side of his face, but to no avail.

Eric could think of only one solution, and with Vincent entranced and shoulder-deep in mud, it was the only real option available. Slipping his arms under Vincent's, and setting his feet in the most secure position on a solid piece of land, he pulled as hard as he could. Vincent's body seemed to lift slightly, but no farther. The anaconduar, seeing its moment of triumph, started to slither forward once again.

“Ifrit, lend me your strength,” Eric cried out as he pulled again. Suddenly, the materia on his belt began to glow, and a voice echoed in his mind.

“But of course.”

Eric felt his entire being course with energy, and he gave his wings one more flap. He flew into the air, with Vincent in his grasp, and the mud making a horrible, slurping sound as the two rose upward. They shot straight up, farther then even the anaconduar could reach. Eric took a moment to catch his breath and looked around. They were in the air, safe and sound. Not wanting to waste the moment of energy, he flew straight for the green fields that lay before them.

The cold air rushing by as they soared through the sky, Vincent groaned as he came out of his hypnotic state. Eric looked down and waited for Vincent to become startled by his surrounding, but was disappointed when he saw Vincent react stoically to the whole thing.

“Glad to see you're aright,” Eric said to his friend.

“Likewise,” Vincent replied.

“You're actually pretty light,” Eric commented, “Do you eat properly?”

“Now is hardly the time,” Vincent answered, his eyes narrowing as he tried to look ahead. “There, there's the edge of the marsh,” he pointed out, “Land down there.”

Eric nodded and swooped down to the expanse of fields that ran next to the marsh.

Setting down in Chocobo Fields, Eric placed Vincent lightly on the ground, then folded his wings as he landed completely. When he turned to look at his friend, he suddenly burst out in laughter.

Vincent was covered in mud. His shoes were almost completely off, his hair was matted with filth, and his cape was tattered and caked with muck. Eric couldn't stop laughing, for it was strange to see Vincent, usually one who kept a tidy appearance, looking so filthy. Vincent simply glared at the young man, and that look was enough to silence Eric.

“I'm sorry, Vincent,” Eric sighed, trying to cover his giggles, “But it's just so funny.”

“You shouldn't be laughing at appearances,” Vincent countered, “For was it not you who was mourning over your looks not two hours ago?”

“Touché,” Eric nodded, feeling guilty. “So, what now?”

“Now we head north, towards Midgar.”

“Midgar!?”

“How many times must I ask you to not make me repeat myself?”

Eric wanted to say that Vincent had just repeated himself, but decided it unwise, and decided to say instead, “But, should we really be going back to the place the Turks were trying to take me?”

“No, of course it's not,” Vincent answered, to Eric's surprise, “But we have no other choice.”

Eric sighed as he followed the man quietly. His whole life, and especially after meeting Vincent, seemed to revolve around that phrase.

“No other choice,” Eric mumbled to himself. He could only wonder when choices would no longer be a rare luxury for him.

The two walked on, neither one saying much of anything. As the sun began to set, and the black outline of Midgar appeared on the horizon, Vincent turned to Eric, his red eyes showing a hint of gratitude.

“I wanted to thank you, for once again saving my life,” he said quietly.

“Well, you said you trusted me with your life, right? I didn't want to betray that. Besides, you saved mine, like, five seconds earlier.”

“Indeed, but you did not have too. You could have ran, which is why I feel the need to thank you.”

Eric didn't realize it at the moment, but Vincent saw more then just Eric rescuing him. Vincent saw that Eric had at least given up on ideas of revenge. He did not think that Eric would kill him himself, but he could have easily allowed the anaconduar to do that for him. For that, he was eternally grateful, and he silently whispered a promise. A promise he had made only once before, to the woman he loved. A promise that he had been unable to fulfill. A promise to protect Eric, no matter the cost. He owed a life debt, a debt that he intended to repay with his own life if it ever came to that.

Suddenly, the sound of a helicopter's propellers filled the air. Eric ducked as Vincent reached for his rifle. But, as luck would have it, it was not in its holster. In fact, the holster was not there either. He looked down at his mud-caked pants and came to a terrible conclusion. When he had fallen in the mud, and when Eric pulled him out, it must have come off. He wasn't sure how, but it must have. And as the chopper came closer, and both he and Eric saw the Shinra symbol printed on the door, he knew that this was certainly not an agreeable situation.

As the propellers started to slow, and the doors popped open, Vincent almost released a small gasp of surprise.

“Vincent? Vincent, is that you?” Tifa Lockheart called as she climbed out of the helicopter.

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