Companion
Cloud dies the way he wanted to. A quiet death. A death without too much heroicness or blood or regret. In someways Denzel thinks it only makes the loss that much harder for them all of them to bare. There is no one they can hate for the unfairness of it all. In his seventeenth year life death has always walked only a few steps behind, snatching loved one left and right. His parents, Reeve's mother, the other orphans... Perhaps that is why Tifa is crying in his arms and Marlene at his shoulder, stoically baring it all.
After the funeral Tifa lies in her bed, looking like the living dead from the silly comic books gathering dust at the bottom of his bed. She shuts off from them, lost in some half fantasy world where Cloud is alive and hasn't left her again. Marlene isn't much better. Spending her days at the kitchen table, stirring long gone cold cups of tea.
Denzel watches it go on for a week, bottling up his frustrations. One morning it just bursts and he tugs the struggling Tifa from her bed and into the shower cubicle, turning the water on cold. Sher shrieks, she yells the most filthy obscurities, slapping and kicking every inch of him purple and blue, then she cries. Hot tears of grief, of reality, if stone cold truth. "He gone." He nods silently. "Cloud gone..." And then he pulls her into his arms, soaking and all, runs his had through her hair and lets her cry.
Exhausted he lets her sleep off the emotional upheaval and when she wakes, things start getting better. Tifa is Marlene's backbone and when Tifa starts to improve, she no longer spends her days with sickly sweet chilled tea.
It's a February full moon when he sees it for the first time. A howl, magnetic and eerie, wakes him. For a moment he stares at the ceiling of his darkened room. A glow in the corner of his vision catches his eye. Denzel can't breath. Bolting upright, he stares in something beyond disbelief. Out lined in green - life stream green he'll realise in the morning - is a white wolf. Denzel pinches himself, the brittle pain proving that it's no fool's dream.
After that, the wolf appears in other places too. Sometimes he'll find it sitting by Marlene's door which she now leaves open, watching her sleep. Other times it's circling Tifa like an excited child who knows only the white joys of the world. They can't see it, or hear it, or feel it. Sometimes they even walk through it, mashing the 'spirit' into grey-green smoke with little lifestream currents whirling around the air.
Most if the time he ignores it, as it integrates into his life like a second shadow.
He goes to school, does his homework and helps Tifa at the bar like nothings wrong. It;s the night he can't stand to think, to breathe. that the wolf is his greatest comfort. "Why did he have to go?"
Of course, the wolf can't answer him in more than ghostly nuzzles and wet licks. Maybe there isn't any answer. Or at least none that he will except. Lying in the corner of his room is Cloud's fullbuster sword. Mostly Denzel likes to pretend it's not there because it's wrong. It's not his. It's Cloud's.
But Cloud's not here. When he should be. So why isn't he?
There are good days and bad days. Some Tifa will turn with her mouth open, Cloud's name on her lips only to dazedly realise she's talking to think air. Other times it's Marlene, who wants someone to hold her in strong, loving male arms only to find her protector isn't there to shield her from the world anymore.
One day he wakes. Seemingly to nothing but the morning traffic and his families quiet snores. Although Marlene will rather pointedly state she does not snore but rather, breathes loudly. His musings are disturbed by the sun-glowing sword. Resentment jolts through him thick and hot. He wants the thing gone but he can't bare to throw it away.
There's a quiet huff at the door, instinctively without looking, he know it's his... stalker? Companion?
There's another huff, louder like an awkward 'pay attention to me' cough. Curiosity winning out against sleepy annoyance, he turns to look. It's sitting by the door, glancing at the sword him and the door. It repeats the action again.
"You want me... to take the sword... and follow you...?"
It yips, scratching at the door and wag it's tail. For a vindictive moment he considers rolling over and going back to sleep. Probably useless though, stubborn thing that it was. Quietly, he stumbles into walking clothes, knowing somehow he was going to be doing a lot it.
He's hesitant to pick it up. The weight is heavy, like the sin of touching what isn't his is making it grow heavier and heavier, until he's all but dragging it along. They leave Midgar, going into the sand dunes, into the canyons and up into the hill top cliffs. It's only when the twin rusty blade is a speck in the distance that he realises where it is that the wolf has brough him.
"Hey Cloud, who's sword is that?"
"A hero's sword. A man many times more worthy of the title than I."
"Oh... Did you... Did you know him?"
"He was my best-friend."
How did you know?
When it turns to him with ambiguous eyes does he realise he'd spoken the thought out loud. Ambiguous eyes that are so very blue. Electric blue, bordering on sapphire if it weren't for the intensity. Those eyes are nostalgic inducing, often too much so because they remind him of another pair of ambiguous blues.
And he knows now what the wolf brough him here for. Better to leave it in the company of friends than in the forgotten corner of his room. It looks right next to Zack Fair's sword, am mean he wished he could of met if only out of the importance his near-father had regarded him with.
He gets his school result in June. They're okay, nothing spectacular like Marlene's near perfect school record of straight A's. Humouring Tifa, he looks at the local Colleges but nothing there catches his spark. He tries to explain this to her, though he doesn't think he didn't it very well. Or maybe she refuses to understand because it had been the same way with Cloud before he chose to join SOLDIER and she couldn't bare to lose another one of her boy's to it. Or maybe it was both, streaked with unspoken grief.
Unspoken grief that leads to joyless dinners, pictures disappearing left and right, Fenrir going into storage under Cid's care, him staying out on the bar roof gazing searchingly up at the stars, Marlene sketching page after page in fear of forgetting, to Tifa's sombre bottles of scotch - or is it port or brandy? Not that it matters what her choice of poison is, it all means the same in the end, leads to the same old beaten path.
But a few days later when Cid calls, offering him a place to stay and a chance to learn some useful skills, he knows she understands more than his jumbled explanation could ever could have explained. The need to get away.
The memories are too raw and the bar's oppressive atmosphere is caging him from dealing with it because here, in this place he's come to call home, he can't remember the good times. All he can think about is the times they waisted, the times when cloud wasn't there and he would lie in bed awake until he heard near silent footsteps and the quiet opening and closing of the man's door.
The girls practically stuffs his bags for him, arranges his pick up date and wave him off with tearful goodbyes and extracted promises to write and call or else Denzel Strife.
Cid's easy going and Shera is lovely if sometime clutzy, if the the yelling Cid does sometimes is anything to go by. They begin with the small stuff, soon he;s working on cars and small planes all by himself.
"Hey kid," Cid says one day, voice strange - serious? Or is it apprehensive?
Putting down his tools, he follows the man with a budding sense of curiosity. They go to a section of the hanger he usually avoids because of all the noise. Circling it inquisitively and blocking his view, is the wolf. When he really sees it though, it's love at first sight.
"It's based on the older models of motorcycle but it's got a hell of a lot of speed packed into it. A beauty I tell you."
A beauty indeed. It's not as impressive as Fenrir but the sleek, compact lines of metallic blue and black call to him in a way Fenrir never has. He swallows.
"Who's is it?" He chocks out, because even if it means giving up his saved allowance, he'll bye the damn beaut if it's the last thing he does.
"Your's Denzel."
He stumbles, whirling to face Cid. "W-What?"
Cid grins. "Cloudy-boy swung by bit before - you know and showed me some designs. Wanted to have it made a birthday present. Knew you'd been wanting one of your own since you were a wee brat."
Denzel scowled at the teasing but was again distracted by the bike. His bike. His bike that Cloud designed.
"Keys!"
They tare down deserted roads and open plains, the wind playfully snatching at his hair and clothes. The wolf races alongside him with a great loping gait, as graceful as swans on water.
It's the first time in a while he's felt so free.
His new experiences don't stop there. The other avalanche members pop up randomly, teaching him odd skills here and there. Vincent teaches him guns, big and small but he hend-held firearm the silent former-turk gives him is cool. Yuffie lectures him on materia and, ironically, teaches him the way of the more slender of blade. The katana.
Barrett stops to chat or rather rant, saying he's far too much like Cloud with the strong-tough boy image. But it's the times with Red XII or Nawaki as he prefers, when the beast tells him that he's got Cloud's heart and the alpha instinct to protect which leaves him warm and happy and he can talk to Tifa and Marlene about Cloud in small doses again.
The wolf watches and is beside him during it all. A quiet urging, nudging him this way and that.
Teasingly he nicknames it Loud, in honour of another Stubborn, far too solemn person he knew. He can;t use te full name, it still makes for a dull thud of pain in his heart but it doesn't make him feel so alone and lost anymore.
It's April, the sun is shining and everything makes for a perfect day. Except he can't concentrate, food makes him queazy and sleep feels like a chore not a Privilege. If that didn't tick him off to something being worn, Lou's increasingly restless pacing and constant whines are.
He calls the bar. No answer.
He calls Tifa's cell. No answer.
He calls Marlene's cell. No answer.
Dread sinks in like he;s been forced to swallow a cannonball. Not again. Please.
Cid tells him to fo without any word of explanation needed. He grabs his katana, slides his fire-arm into a thigh holster and smack his goggles into place. Swings on his bike, guns the engine and chases after Loud who is already meters ahead with impatience.
Instead of the city, Lou veers off to a familiar cliff. The weapon shimmers, looking as well-kept as the day he'd placed it here. This time it's comfortable, reassuring in his grasp and seems to hum with contentment. As if it's been waiting, a compartment in the bike opens, revealing a perfect holder for it. There's no time to thinks he watches the plumages of smoke rise from the burning city.
He races though the streets, nearly running over Reno if it weren't for Lou's warning growl. Skidding to a halt, he demands the surprise turk to tell him what's going on. He catches a few words above the roar of panic. Hojo. Supporters. Revenge.
Ignoring the rest, he heads for Seventh Heaven. It's deserted.
An explosion in the distance. Lou barks and they're odd, chasing ghosts of hope that Marlene and Tifa are alive.
Terror and a fury unlike any other seizes his heart. The fullbuster blade is leaving his hand like it had Cloud many years before, only Marlene is Tifa and Tifa is him and he's Cloud.
The man standing above Tifa with a poised Katana, jumps back to just barely avoid torn into two though Denzel feels satisfaction when the tip catches the stomach. Pale green eyes - Jenova - catches his and Denzel knows either this theat to his home dies or he, Denzel, does.
Tifa falls unconscious, exhausted, pale and cornered in cuts (Denzel feels his brain stutter when he notices one of the cuts is on a distinctively not flat stomach - why didn't anyone tell him?).
Then the first clang of Katana's flashes out.
Hojo' s son - illegitimate as it turns out - is just as twisted and deadly as his father. The method choice is different. The former enjoys the big gorging wounds to the latter's subtle pricks of a needle and the musical ambience of the incision scythe.
He panting, sweat falling in rivets and he knows before long he'll be dead. He doesn't have the power of Mako flowing in him or the evil seeds of Jenova planted in his genes. No, he only has the courage of human stubbornness in the face of extinction. Hojo's son is toying with him but boredom soon strikes and the blade is flying from his hand, clattering to the ground with final ringing 'shiss;. He on one knee, the other slid slightly back and facing outwards, away - hiding it.
"How disappointing. I'd thought more of the son of the infamous hero, Cloud Strife. I guess fame can only take you so far without the talent of the father." A mocking laugh. "Oh wait. He's not you father is he. Not really. Bet you wish he was, though."
Beside him, Lou snarls - a glutteral sound that shoots shivers down his spine. Don't mess with the wolf.
He lets his hand slide up - but maybe it's down, his head is pounding to much to think logically - his thigh to rest on the cool metal. Once chance. A few seconds chance. A fools chance. Hopeless.
"He might not be my blood but he is my father!" Denzel hisses, lost in the rush as he rips the gun from it's holster, aims it into the bastard's chest, squeezes the trigger and fires the damn thing into the man's body.
Lou sniffs the dead body before letting loose a howl triumphantly. He disregards it, to stray over to Tifa and Marlene in week dragging pulls of his body. They're breathing. Thanks Gaia.
He stays there, kneeling on the spot in a stupor. He's alive. It echo;s in his head as though it's hollow of it's brain. Then Lou is infront of him and glistening, worried eyes are gazing at him imploringly. Those eyes...
"Cloud." The pieces click into place and the obvious truth doesn't surprise it or shock him as much as it does. Cloud growls playfully, surprise attacking his nose with a cold lick. "Hey!"
A few pants of amusement.
"You stayed for me, didn't you?"
Cloud cocked his head, eyes conveying what the speech he was incapable of could not.
"Thanks..."
A bark, foreign to both, startles them and they turned as one to looks behind Cloud. A black wolf, flowers entwining around his feet is there. Cloud growls but he Black shook it's head. Cloud growled again, deeper before turning to face him.
Sorrow drowned him. "You have to go, don't you?"
Cloud whined before reaching out to nuzzle every inch of him that the muzzle could reach. Denzel smiled sadly, reaching his hand around the furry neck to hug the spirit form of his father. " I love you... Dad."
Whimper.
"I'll look after Marlene and Tifa and the kid or kids when they come too!"
Cloud pulled back with a last lick and then turned to his waiting friend and with a great few strides and a leap into the black playfully they disappear in a whirl of lifestream strands.
Tears trickled down his face but he didn't move to stop theme. It felt good to cry.
"D-Denzel?"
"Tifa!"
Some night when the moon was high, he could hear the joyous howls of a pair of wolves and twinkling laughter, leaving a smile on his face as he fell asleep, leading him to dreams of black and white racing through fields of gold.
