disclaimer: [cloud & reno] © [square enix]. Written for entertainment, not profit.
goodnight.
Cloud still hadn't wiped the blood off his face when he staggered into Midgar. Everything depended on holding onto the sword (whose sword did I steal it) he dragged behind him.
The sound of metal scraping over broken ground was soothing. It tempered the sharp lullaby twisting its way through his veins, the one that sang the puppet can never be left alone, made it seem it was all so far away. As long as he held onto it, he wouldn't break into a thousand pieces that couldn't be put back together again.
The city and its people all blurred into a hazy whiteness—the sunlight shining through an angel's feather, hiding the eyes that stared and accused and made him want to
(break down break down because you only belong to me)
scream.
His arms burned with the effort of keeping the sword from slipping out of his grip, and the sound of it hitting the ground was like an echo. The grinding of a train sounded from somewhere, and the voices around him seemed to grow louder and it was you who killed him his blood's on your hands cloud cloud cloud
"—that was his name, wasn't it."
Warmth. He was being held, though he couldn't remember having fallen. Cloud opened his eyes to see them reflected above him. But it was wrong, somehow; he saw no loss, no anguish in the mirrored blue. Or it was already etched in those scars…or maybe tattoos.
A silence, followed by a laugh and another voice. "Probably. Who ever remembers their names after a mission's over with, though. I bet Tseng's already burnt the package by now." Cloud winced as careless fingers brushed his hair aside. "Huh. SOLDIER eyes on this one too."
He wanted to push the strange hand off, to say that he wasn't a SOLDIER—that was Zack and then Zack had died and he had wanted to save him but—the words felt terrible to him. Almost desecrating. And the grip on his arms had only tightened when he tried to move away. The attempt took more effort than he would have thought possible, and he had a vague impression that he was the one holding on instead.
"The target might not be dead. It's worth bringing him in," said the other from a distance.
Cloud felt the man shrug, a movement that jostled his cheek against the shirt. "We're off-duty right now, remember? If he's so important to ShinRa, someone'll be along to pick him up."
And then he was released, left searching for breath among fading footsteps.
"Or maybe somebody else. He's cute enough. See you around, Spike."