Written for a friend of mine. Zack/Cloud is totally not my thing. Review me, flame me, whatever. Obviously I don't own any of this.
The Price of Freedom
The sweat poured from your brow; the morning sun was hot already but you pushed your exhausted limbs to take another step. Cloud's frail body slumps against yours, and you try to shoulder more of his weight, trying to not watch the way his head lolls against his chest, the way his limbs twitch with every step; the glazed look in his blue eyes.
The faint thudding of helicopter blades echoed behind you, fear driving forward. You'd made a promise when you escaped Nebelheim to get Cloud here, and so you take another step, stumbling over the rocky ground, dragging him along.
Maybe on your best day you could have put up a better fight but outnumbered ten to one, they came in waves at you, and the helicopters above your head promised you wouldn't get away. You wondered, absently, if Tseng flew one of them; if he looked down at you with those cold eyes as another target to be eliminated.
You'd quickened your pace instantly, as if a few extra steps could save you.
But as your shaking legs carried you up the cliffs that hid Midgar, you knew this was it. And so, with a shuddering breath, you forced yourself to stop moving. Your body tingled with anticipation, but you ignored it, gently leaning Cloud against a boulder, out of the sun.
You knelt by him for a moment, watching the way his lips twisted ever so slightly into a smile as his eyes met yours. We're almost done Cloud, you murmur, taking his chin carefully in your fingers. Almost done.
And you tore your gaze away, forcing yourself to your feet; the buster sword feels heavy in your hands. You rose to meet them; a tiny speck of resistance; exhausted warrior you were, and went in swinging, as if you had a chance to make it out alive.
It was within the eyes of Midgar that your steps were cut short by gunfire, your knees hit the mud and you rolled to your back, chest heaving, eyes wide with the pain. They surround you, ten pairs of boots, all caked in mud, all ready to finish the job and go home.
But even as a shotgun is placed against your forehead and you feel the cold steel press into your skin, they're called off before you can shut your eyes and prepare for the end, and you fall back against the mud, exhausted, relieved, terrified; waiting to die. You take a shuddering breath and every inch of you screams in pain; fear washes over you as a light rain begins to fall, large drops splashing against the mud, and you realize you can't feel it hit your legs or arms.
The sky is darkening, thunder rolling in the distance and you watch the light fade, wondering absently why your spirit hasn't taken yet to the clouds. Cloud, the thought hits you like a wall, new fears strike you and you swallow deeply.
You let your head fall to the side, cheek splashing against the mud, to see Cloud slumped against a rock, untouched, and your heart twists. He looks broken anyways, like a doll, chin on his chest, still quietly mumbling nonsense; the intermediate twitching of his limbs tells you he's still alive.
You want to say his name and you form it on your lips, pushing the air from your throat to make the sound, but only a weak puff escapes. He responds anyways, head jerking up like a doll who's just come to life, and your stomach turns. You've been broken on the outside, limbs and bones, skin and blood, but his damage was to the soul. You don't think he'll ever be the same.
As if on cue, he tries to get up, to use his shaking legs and wobbles like he's drunk, falling to his knees. The rain pours on his face, washing away the long-caked on sweat and mud and he rests like that, hands sinking into the mud, body twitching, sky blue eyes piercing directly into yours. He shudders and starts a slow crawl towards you, fingers clawing the mud like he's hanging desperately onto the ground. The last sound of the helicopters fades against the distant thunder's rumble until they become one and the same.
It's quiet now, and you hear your own choked breath come loudly. Cloud falls again, and you can see the pained determination in his blue eyes; his jaw is set, even as hopeless tears roll down his thin cheeks. He doesn't break eye contact during his entire struggled journey across the field and as he stares into you, and you to him, you wonder if you're trying to give him the power to make it the rest of the way, or if he's trying to do the same for you.
But when Cloud reaches you, exhausted and shaking, you wish you could take him in your arms. His small frame is comforting to you, his skin familiar; the brush of his hair against your chest. A deep sob wells in your stomach and you try to lift your arms, desperate to hold him one last time, and they ignore you, dead at your sides.
Zack, he murmurs, and you can hear the fear behind his voice; the uncertainty, the sorrow.
So you take a slow breath, quelling the same feelings that threaten to rise into your words and pull your lips back in the gentlest smile.
For the both of us, you intone carefully, bobbing your head slightly, pushing that fear somewhere far away, and he looks back at you, young face brimming with emotion.
He shakes his head, a slow motion from side to side. You know he understands and you know he doesn't want to.
A surge of energy rushes through you, and you wrap your hand around the back of his head, fingers gripping his hair tightly and you pull him down into your chest, fusing him against your broken body; all of your energy flowing into him as you fiercely whisper.
For the both of us. Live.
Zack's hands hold you so close you feel like he might crush you against his chest, and you bury your face against him, squeezing your eyes shut like you might hold yourself in this moment, somehow, forever. But his arms fall suddenly away from you, like two dead weights on the sides of his body; two dull thumps against the ground.
But in that moment, pressed against Zack's body, you felt his spark, his life, flood into you when he said those words, and a new resolve forms in your mind, determined and sure.
Zack smiles faintly, like he's just thought of something, and his head rolls to the side again to where the buster sword lies discarded in the muddy ground. Zack reaches for it, and you sit back on your heels, stomach turning, watching his slow, steady movements.
My honor, my dreams, he murmurs as he slowly slides it across the ground into your hands. You hear the words he doesn't say, as those sky blue eyes look into yours- my freedom, my love, my life- Zack takes a long breath. They're yours now. And you reach for it gingerly, carefully wrapping your fingers around the hilt.
His hand stays rested against yours for an extra moment, a lingering touch.
You repeat his words back steadily, like an oath, and he smiles, eyes falling shut, lashes sweeping his face.
And the rain falls against your body, knees sinking into the mud, Zack's body laid out before you, and buster sword in hand, a scream rises up in your chest and overtakes your senses, erupting fiercely, as you shut your eyes and raise your voice to the heavens.
The rain trickles off, patches of sunlight breaking through the clouds, and your gaze falls to your best friend again; silent, still. You shut your eyes and flashes of him pass through your thoughts and in the vast emptiness of this ravenged field, you let yourself remember. Still kneeling, you page through the memories, embracing each one, letting every detail fill your mind; the brightness of his smile and his cocky grin, the faint taste of salt on his skin and the first time your lips touched. You let the memories come, one after the next, from beginning to end, and allow the tears to fall fast and hard. And as soon as one ends, you tuck it away somewhere safe, somewhere deep inside, as the next rises.
But when the last one fades, you swallow and wipe your cheek with the back of your hand. You take one
last, long look at your best friend and say the only words that come to mind.
Thank you.
Heavily, you rise, the sword is a crutch, but you find yourself on steady feet, despite the Mako in your system threatening your mind, but you push it away and whisper a final goodbye, letting his name fall from your lips one last time.
There is no time for funerals, for burials and sorrow, so you tuck him deep inside your heart, stashed there with all your memories, and try to walk on. Stuttering steps and shaking limps slow you, but you keep your eyes on Midgar. And with every inch that took you closer to that place, you felt the memory slip away, just slightly, and with each step, you forget a detail- just one small detail- but you tell yourself it doesn't matter; that there'd always be another memory behind the last forgotten one. Until you stand at the gates of Midgar and fall to your knees; pain washing over your thoughts, blanking your mind out of everything.
By the time you are able to stand, brain firing impulses, limbs jerking sporadically and thoughts emptied, you are only able to look down at yourself, fingers gingerly touching the sodden material of the First-Class uniform, and your brain desperately tries to make new connections to understand.
And beneath these new thoughts, lies and new life you were accidentally creating for yourself, lay the simple truth, now buried and lost, ready to be unlocked only when your soul had healed. The truth lay silent, unbidden into your mind, waiting for its moment to come forth, waiting to reveal itself.
Zack, you whispered too softly to hear.
And then it was gone.