Disclaimer: Don't own anything.
Synopsis: Some random Idea I got whilst *trying* to revise chemistry. Perhaps I will be like Lucrecia in this fic, and meet a similar dark-haired stranger. [Sigh]
Anyways, enjoy it!
It had been a long night. Hours of pouring over old journals and sometimes out of date textbooks, whilst continuously pumping her body with caffeine in the endless cups of coffee, until it had eventually taken its toll on her. On more than one occasion she had woken with a piece of paper stuck to her cheek, blinking in the too-bright light of her reading lamp, which gave the only light in the basement laboratory.
And it was like this that he had found her. His gentle knock had gone unanswered, and he had presumed the lab to be empty when he opened the door and strode in, his shiny black standard issue shoes echoing loudly on the stone floor. He was surprised she hadn't woken; she continued to breathe deeply, a soft snore escaping her nose intermittently.
Agent Valentine's mouth had quirked at the corner. Dr. Lucrecia Crescent was incredibly beautiful, as he recalled from viewing her ShinRa records the evening before; though her id photograph did her little justice. A delicate nose in the centre of a perfectly oval face, soft, sensual lips, and long, fine eyelashes casting subtle shadows across the smooth ivory skin of her cheeks.
He pondered how to wake her. It would be too rude to simply abruptly call her name, and disrupt her so suddenly from her slumber; it was evident from the light bruise-coloured shadows under her eyes that she was suffering from little or no sleep. He considered leaving and re-entering again, next time louder, to give her a little time to regain her composure before she would address him formally. But would she be angry with him, for entering without permission?
This was foolish, he scolded himself. Surely it could wait another day, even a couple of hours? He was merely reporting to introduce himself to her. He was to become her body guard, relieving his successor of his duty for several weeks, until it was his turn again. But he hated delays, in whatever form they manifested themselves. Though he had been taught patience was crucial, in the field, and concerning diplomacy.
He shook his head. He would call back in an hour or so. To save her embarrassment, and his indecision. Besides, watching her lay there, her beautiful peaceful face relaxed in sleep, was making him think too much. A danger, he told himself, he could never indulge in excessively.
He turned on his heel silently to leave, the hem of his blue blazer making a soft sound as he moved swiftly towards the door, aware of how amplified his footfalls were in the cavernous stone laboratory, wincing with each step. He thought he'd managed it, until he remembered.
He needed to collect his security report! He certainly couldn't warrant kicking around for an hour doing nothing; he could be getting along with his job in the mean time. And now that he came to think of it, he'd seen it, lying atop the pile of papers Lucrecia was currently slumped over. He battled with his indecision momentarily, before cursing softly under his breath. He really couldn't leave without that damned file.
He returned swiftly and silently to her side, his deep amber eyes swiftly assessing the situation. There it was! He could see the ShinRa/Turks logo emblazoned at the top of the file. It was already exposed, if he could just pinch the edge with his fingers he could gently tug it free and he would be on his way.
But being the master of stealth as he was, it seemed that the desk's cluttered surface was his nemesis. He almost knocked a coffee cup off the edge of the desk with his elbow, and nearly sent a biro rolling off its surface with his shaking fingers. He bit down on his lip, leaning precariously over the edge of the workstation, inching his hand forwards, successfully touching the corner of the offending article. A gentle pull back of his hand proved fruitless; it was buried beneath a stack of papers a little further under Lucrecia's sleeping dead-weight than he had realised.
He cursed involuntarily, holding his breath in the wake of his verbal spillage. He glanced down; the exposed side of her face was peaceful-- still sleeping soundly. His leg was pressing rather uncomfortably into the corner of the desk, and as he tried again to tug the folder towards him, he knew he was at danger of overbalancing. But he was so close! -- All it would take was a swift yank and he could…
The folder finally came free, and his mouth turned up with triumph. Thank god that was over-- He could get out of this infernal place and start working-- introduce himself to the Doctor when she was awake, unaware he had met her already, in a sense.
Regaining his footing, he pulled the folder free of the desk. In doing so, before he could correct his error, the corner of the file collided with the half empty mug of coffee that stood at her elbow, knocking it to the ground, where it bounced loudly, once, twice, then cracked into several pieces, coffee spreading from a murky brown pool on the stone floor.
Great work, Valentine. Since when had he been clumsy?
He held his breath, aware that his eyes were screwed shut. He opened them, feeling suddenly like a child, awaiting his mother's reproach for breaking one of her precious ornaments. The pretty doctor was now fully awake, her eyes, which he noticed were a stunning shade of green, were wide with shock, staring up at the man who hovered over her desk, clutching a folder and wearing a pained expression.
"I--I'm sorry, ma'am." His face flushed, as he straightened up, eyes trained an inch or so above her shoulder, to spare him the shame of meeting her inquisitive gaze.
"What are you doing here?" She blurted out, pushing her chair back and standing slowly. Her eyes swept rapidly up to the man's face; he was a Turk, or so his navy uniform said, with jaw-length gun-metal coloured hair that he didn't seem to be able to keep out of his eyes, and extraordinary amber-hued irises.
"I was--- you were sleeping Dr. Crescent, and I did not wish to wake you, I" His voice was deep, and smooth.
"But you did!" He regretted not simply walking out of the room the first time he had had the chance.
"I did not intend to. But I needed this file," He raised his hand holding the security documents she had been issued to hand to her personal guard when he arrived. Surely it couldn't be so late?
Vincent observed her, patiently awaiting her response, as she glanced up at the clock, acknowledging the time with a groan. Her irked expression vanished, to be replaced by one which was slightly more apologetic.
"I apologise, I had forgotten all about that!" She ran a hand through her hair, which, Vincent noticed, was rather ruffled. "I must look a sight- no sleep in two days. And I guess it shows."
"Not at all, Ma'am." Vincent prevented the smile from creeping into his voice, and onto his face, maintaining a perfectly blank, professional expression. She raised one perfectly arched eyebrow, before breaking into a wide smile.
Now he knew he was out of trouble, the whole affair seemed laughable. She glanced down at his feet where the puddle of coffee stagnated, and at his shiny shoes, which were flecked with specks of coffee, then back up at his perfectly serene face. And she laughed; her skin creasing at her eyes in a way that he found endearing, her hand covering her mouth as she giggled a little uncontrollably, her striking green eyes dancing with light.
Vincent's façade wavered. Of course, it was ridiculous; sneaking around trying to prise a document from underneath the slumped body of a sleeping woman, and being clumsy enough in his jubilation to ruin all of his efforts. His mouth quirked up into a smirk.
"Dr Crescent. But do call me Lucrecia." She extended her hand, and he took it, surprised at its softness: She was a bio-chemist after all. Her grip was firm.
"Agent Valentine. But do call me Vincent."
They mopped up the coffee together, and she made him promise, as a way of receiving a full pardon, to buy her a new one.
And he was more than happy to oblige.