Guilt's Cost: Part 197

Details

By Kristen Williams

 

            Those last five days passed quickly.  Dr. Arlin briefed all of her surgeon friends regarding the procedure at hand, and they were all by now quite well versed in Hojo's research.  The techniques and secrets that they had all gathered from what they had read were going to prove groundbreaking once they applied it to their legitimate public medical practices.  If nothing else, all of what they had learned on Vincent's behalf was going to change the lives of millions of people suffering from spinal trauma and organ transplants.

            Quigley and Porter too, were more than a little busy.  After his one day off following his wedding, Porter had been at Quigley's side in the lab nonstop as they prepared Vincent's new body for the surgery.  They had it pulled from the acceleration chamber and lying on a hospital bed, hooked up to various life support devices; the same ones that would keep Vincent alive after the surgery until his nervous system healed.

            Vincent also was kept occupied, as Porter  did a good amount of work studying his present mechanical body, so that he would know how to help the doctors prepare him come surgery day.  He had to map out exactly how Vincent's body temperature was maintained, so that he could interrupt it, allowing his temperature to fall to a point where his brain could sustain going without blood flow for an extended time.

            Finally, by the day before the surgery, Vincent was cut loose from the scientists and doctors as they made their last preparations, no longer needing him.  He exited the lab and went to find Tifa, who was of course with Cid and the baby out in the hanger talking with Brad.  Upon seeing Tifa, he walked over to her.

            She smiled.  "They actually let you out for a while?"

            "They said they don't need me again until tomorrow morning at seven," Vincent answered, shrugging slightly.  "I need to go into town for a little while, to tie up some loose ends."

            "I'll go with you."  Tifa wasn't about to let him out of her sight between now and the surgery, considering that it might be the last time she had to be with him at all.

            Vincent had actually wanted to go alone, but he wasn't about to argue with her.  "All right, I'm sure Cid and Brad can keep each other occupied until we get back."

            Cid and Brad just looked at one another and laughed.

            With that, Tifa and Vincent headed into town. Tifa didn't question him as to where they were going, just walking at his side in silence.  Vincent took them straight to the bank and they entered.  Instead of going up to the usual teller windows, Vincent immediately headed for the small private offices in the front of the building. 

            A woman in one of the offices apparently recognized Vincent.  "Mr. Vatatsi?  Are you here about the withdrawal?"

            He nodded and sat before her desk, Tifa following suit.  "Yes, I trust that everything is in order?"

            "Of course, Mr. Vatatsi."  She smiled widely.  "Wait here and I will be back in just a moment."

            As she left the room, Tifa turned to Vincent.  "What are you doing?"

            "Closing out my bank account," he said flatly.

            Tifa knew what he was thinking.  "But Vincent, why do that if you're so sure that you're going to live?"

            "Tifa, whether I live or not has little to do with this."  He reached over and covered one of her hands with his.  "I am going to be basically in a coma for the next several weeks.  If in that time you should need anything, I wouldn't want you to not have access to my money."

            She had to accept his answer at face value, knowing that it would be pointless to try and drag any more out of him about it.

            Soon enough, the woman returned to the room, followed by two armed security guards who carried with them three brief cases.  They locked the door to the room and closed the blinds before laying all three cases upon the desk's surface.  The woman then opened all three and turned them to face Vincent.  "Here you are, Mr. Vatatsi.  Seventeen million, six hundred and forty-nine thousand, three hundred and fifty gil.  All in fifties and hundreds, as per your request.  Shall I count it out for you?"

            Vincent smiled and shook his head.  "No, that won't be necessary."

            "Then I trust that you will at least allow our guards to see you to your car?" she asked, knowing what a risk carrying this much cash was.

            Again, Vincent just smiled.  He didn't feel the need to tell the lady that they had in fact walked here from a secret base below the town's airport.  "I appreciate the offer, however, we are more than prepared."

            "I see."  She quickly closed the three brief cases and locked them before handing Vincent the key.  "Then you are all set.  Please know that when you are ready to reopen an account, we will be more than delighted to serve you."

            Vincent stood up and grabbed the brief cases, handing one to Tifa.  "I will keep that in mind should the need arise.  Good day."

            Tifa felt like she would pass out as she realized that she was presently holding more money than she had ever seen before; her case alone had over five million gil within.  As they left the bank, she couldn't help but stare down at the brief case hanging from her right hand.

            Vincent observed her out of the corner of his eye.  "You're not being incredibly subtle by staring at the thing like that."

            She snapped out of her state and looked over at him.  "I know you said once that you had this much money, but…"

            "Seeing is believing?" Vincent finished for her, a faint smile upon his lips.

            Although she didn't want to admit that it had before just seemed like a strange, intangible thing until now, that's how it was.  "I guess so."

            "Now, once we get back to the base, you keep this in the closet, and don't tell a soul.  If I wake up and find out that our retirement has gone missing, I will be very unhappy."  Vincent's voice lacked any humor.

            "Of course, I'm not crazy enough to go blabbing about having a shit load of cash like this under the mattress."  Tifa couldn't help but smile.

            Vincent shook his head in amusement, upon hearing her resort to obscenities about the amount of money in their possession.  "You're starting to sound like Cid, you know."

            "Well, how would you describe this much money?"  Tifa glanced over at him.

            "I think a shit load just about sums it up, actually," he said, his expression unwavering.

            Tifa had to laugh at him.  Despite all the time that they had spent together, she was still tickled by his responses to things.  "Vincent, I'm going to miss the living hell out of you until you wake back up following this surgery."

            He smiled, "I'll miss you too."

 

***

 

            They returned to the base and safely stowed the money in their room.  After that, Vincent took her to the lab, to show her his body as it now rested upon its bed there.  They walked in, finding that Quigley and Porter had stepped out to have a meeting with the doctors to be involved in the next day's proceedings. 

            The new body lay motionless, hooked up to all of its monitors and the ventilator.  Vincent looked down upon his new self, his expression for the moment blank.  He reached out with his cybernetic hand and took up one of his soon to be normal ones within it.  As he studied it, he was amazed at how despite the fact that thirty years had gone by since he had last seen his left hand, every detail of it had still remained in his memory.  This hand was unmarked in any way.  All of the familiar scars that had once adorned the left hand he had been born with were of course missing from this artificially produced one and at once a mixture of familiarity and strangeness ran through him.  This was his body without a doubt, and yet all of the environmental marks that had been once upon his old body were absent.  He couldn't help but find it strange that despite all that he was about to get back, he was going to miss those scars.  There had been so many of them, several of them from boyhood injuries sustained with fighting with his younger brother.  Some had been from gunshot wounds sustained as a Turk.  Part of him was sad that these reminders were going to be missing, although he presently had none of them on his mechanical body.

            Tifa couldn't begin to imagine what he was thinking as she watched him inspect his new self.  The look on his face was almost painful for her to witness and so she turned her attention to the new body lying before her.  She looked at the face, seeing that there were no lines set into it, making it look younger than the twenty-seven years it had been aged.  She wondered if it would stay that way once Vincent was inside.  Even though his face at present had quit aging at about the same age, the horrors that he had been through had made their mark.  The frown marks below his mouth had always been perhaps a little more pronounced than they should have been.  The lines around his eyes too were not found on the new body.  Maybe they would never appear.  Maybe being in the new body would take away those things that had changed his face over the years.  She knew that she wouldn't have that answer until much later, if ever.

            Tifa was a little startled when Vincent broke the silence.  "It's me, and yet… it's not, is it?"

            She wondered for a moment if he had somehow read her thoughts.  "I was just thinking that."

            He shrugged.  "Yeah.  All the things that made their marks on me over the years, all the things that I had committed to memory about my actual body… they aren't here."

            Tifa wasn't sure how to say exactly what she had been contemplating, but tried.  "Look at your new face though, Vincent.  I know this is going to sound weird, but when I look at it, I don't see the pain that has been etched onto yours."

            "And I hope that it never is, Tifa."  He looked up at her.  "The only lines I want showing up on this face here are those that are a result of me actually aging, not from being through hell.  That has to be all behind me now."

            Tifa placed her arms around his waist.  "It has to be."